Making Troy A Man Ch. 01

Troy complied miserably. He pouted with a lump in his throat all the way on the long ride to the farm.

***

The road up to the farmhouse was a twisting horse trail, little more than a pair of ruts in the grass, winding through a green corridor of lush, thriving vegetation. To Troy, it looked like a suffocating, angry tangle of life, a vibrant contrast to the the concrete, steel, glass, and tame, manicured gardens and hedges he was used to.

He wondered how many wild animals, poisonous plants, insects, spiders and fungi lurked in the thicket.

The last three hours had passed in silence. His cheek smarted lightly still, and his back and rump were getting sore. He was bored past reason; he had never gone this long without some sort of electronic device to distract or entertain him since he was a troyler.

They pulled up to the farmhouse as the sun was setting, and Aunt Lulu broke the silence. "You'll be lodged in the upstairs. We got your room ready. We got some coveralls for you, they should fit ok. Dinner's gonna be set, then after that it's a quick wash up, and straight to bed. It's gonna be an early start, up at 4:30, breakfast at 4:45, morning prayers at 5:15, and Glenda'll put you to work with your first chores at 5:30."

Troy was hoping he had heard wrong, but knew he hadn't. He figured he should just expect daily lashings and keel-haulings just so everything he experienced wouldn't be worse.

"Hey," Aunt Lulu said softly. "Hey, you listenin'?" She touched his arm gently. He jumped. "Hey, hey, hey, it's gonna be ok," she crooned to him. "Your momma's mad, but I ain't. I just got a job to do. Me and your cousins love you very much. It's gonna be tough, but we're here to help you. You're gonna be ok. You're gonna get through this."

Troy broke down completely, sobbing and wailing, gasping for breath in between his anguished cries. His aunt hugged him and held him close, and he sobbed into her breasts piteously for a quarter of an hour.

***

Dinner was bland and provincial. Troy was used to the finest cuisine from all over the world. The unseasoned pork and vegetables before him just exacerbated the nightmare he was living.

The conversation between his Aunt and his three cousins was equally bland and provincial. Carol, Wendy, and Glenda shared the same build as their mother. The resemblance to his father was uncanny. There were plenty of "Yups" and "Mhm's" interspersed between the discussions of animal health and tractor maintenance. He began to wonder exactly how inbred this branch of the family tree was.

He tried to imagine anything but his current situation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Kevin, and that was even more painful. He concentrated on chewing his food, counting the bites, watching a fly crawl on his plate... He couldn't imagine hell being any worse than this.

Dinner finished up and his cousins all cleared the plates and set to washing the dishes. Troy sat there sullenly staring straight ahead.

"What's wrong with him?" he heard her cousin Wendy ask under her breath.

"Nothin', he's just upset," replied Carol in the same hushed tone. "City slicker. No idea what he's in for. Let him be."

They all washed up after that, and Troy found himself to be tremendously tired. He flopped into bed and was fast asleep in minutes.

***

Next morning he was awakened by his Aunt's voice bellowing from downstairs. "All right, all right!! Good morning, y'all!! Up and at 'em! Up and smell the coffee! New day dawnin'! Breakfast in fifteen minutes!!"

Troy groaned. It took him a moment until, with dread, he remembered where he was. He moaned in despair, but got up and tried to shake off the cobwebs. He dared not cross his Aunt Lulu again. He opened the sash on his window. It was still pitch black out.

He scrubbed up briefly and dressed. A white T-shirt and denim coveralls. He regarded himself in the mirror. He looked like a hick from the Ozarks. He considered killing himself. Thoughts of his Ferrari were all that kept his feet moving downstairs.

Breakfast was surprisingly good. He was truly hungry, and the bacon and eggs went down extremely well. He tried some of the coffee, but found it unpotable. Again, his refined palate was far too used to sophisticated, refined, and expensive brews from around the globe to stomach such rustic fare.

After breakfast, they prayed. Troy strained to not burst out in sarcasm or contempt. He tried to remember what his Aunt had said about respect. If he prayed, it was for strength and self-control.

They finished prayers, and the girls all set off on their chores.

"Well, come on," his cousin Glenda said simply. "Let's get to it."

He trudged after her with stooped shoulders. He was tired, jet lagged and exhausted emotionally.

"First chore is feedin' the chickens," Glenda said. "Put on a pair of gloves and grab a bucket."

Troy did as he was told numbly. He was praying for this day to end, but it had barely begun.

"So what's up with you, Troy?" Glenda asked as they scattered chicken feed in the barn, surrounded by clucking. The stench of chicken dander and waste assailed Troy's nostrils.

"Nothin' really" he replied in a monotone voice.

"So why you out here?" Glenda probed. "Ain't no family visit."

"But I love my family so much..." Troy said blithely as he scattered chicken feed. His shoulder was already getting sore.

His insulting tone was clearly not lost on Glenda. Maybe she wasn't as stupid as she looked.

"I heard Momma and Aunt Tessa talkin' on the phone. Sounded to me like you're a faggot," she said with a mildly derisive tone. "You a faggot, Troy?"

"What if I am?" he shot back, somewhat incensed.

"That's a sin," Glenda stated. "We turned queers before. Made 'em right."

"A sin..." Troy laughed acidly. "Maybe I'm a faggot. You look like a dyke. What's your sin?"

"That ain't none o' your business, and that ain't a sin, no how. The Bible says 'Thou shalt not layest with a man as a woman'. Don't say nothin' about two women."

"Well, ain't that gol' durn convenient fer yuh!!" Troy mocked, his anger rising. He regarded his cousin with disgust. She was thick, round, stocky, busty, had a protruding belly, and thick, muscular arms. She had shortish, strawberry blond hair, a wide face, and chubby, freckled cheeks. Her upper lip never quite managed to cover her buck front teeth. Her nose was slightly upturned with her nostrils exposed. She reminded him of a pig. He stood, scowling at this pig-woman.

"You'd better watch your tone," she said menacingly.

He snorted. "Or what? I suppose you'll call Aunt Lulu and she'll skin me and nail my hide to the barn, huh?" Troy dropped his bucket. He'd had enough. "Well, why don't you call your momma then, pig-girl?"

Glenda stood there for a moment, her gaze narrowing. "I'm just gonna forget you said that, Troy. Now pick up that bucket. Chickens need to be fed."

"No!" Troy shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, thinking he had found an advantage to push. "Forget it! Why don't you make me? Or call your momma!!"

"Look, Troy, you're here because you're family and we love you. But if you're here to be fixed, I got a duty to God and the family to set to fixin' you."

Troy didn't understand what she was getting at, so continued baiting her. He turned up the end of his nose with his finger and made pig-snorting noises.

"If you're gonna get normal, you're gonna have to learn to like pussy," she growled. "So I guess it's time for you t' start learnin'."

She advanced on Troy, and suddenly he found himself filled with fear again. Her broad, stocky form reminded him of his dad and now his Aunt Lulu too. He turned and ran. She was hot on his heels.

He made best speed in his rubber boots, but they were ill-fitting, and hurt his feet. He vaulted across a gate and sprinted to the end of the barn. The door was closed. He struggled to unbar it, but it was too heavy. He just managed to duck Glenda's grasp as she lunged at him, and he bolted up the stairs into the hay loft. To his chagrin, he found that bounding up the stairs had gained him no ground on his hefty pursuer.

At the top stair, her hand snared his ankle. Her grip was like iron. He struggled. Her other hand grabbed his thigh. We was forced on his back, thrashing and flailing uselessly.

"No!" he yelled out. "No, no! Dammit! Let me go you fat fucking cow! Ow!"

Glenda had him pinned to the ground, spread-eagled. She looked down at him with a frown. A tear was welling up in the corner of her eye, and her lower lip quivered.

"You say some real mean things, Troy. Some real mean things. I'm gonna try my best to forgive you, Troy. But right now, you gotta learn respect. And you've probably never had a taste of pussy, so you're long overdue. You hold still, Troy. Just remember that I love you. We're all doin' this because we love you."

Troy fought and fought, but to no avail. It was like a rabbit struggling against a gorilla. Glenda sat on his chest, forcing his breath from him. She grabbed both of his wrists in her powerful right hand, and unbuckled her coveralls with her left. She removed her rubber boots as Troy gasped beneath her weight.

Troy fought for breath uselessly. He was on the verge of passing out as he thrashed beneath her, when she stood suddenly, releasing him. He wheezed in breath as she dropped her coveralls and skinned out of her panties.

Troy got to his knees and attempted to bolt again, but she was back on him like a shot. With all his might, he tried to break free, but he was as helpless as an infant in her grasp.

She had him down on his back again and straddled his head. "No!" he screamed. "No!!"

She squatted and lowered her vagina right above his face. Her crotch was covered in wild, thick, long, tangly yellow pubic hair. She smelled of musk, woman, pee, and some other aromas that Troy found utterly horrifying.

"Now you're gonna eat my pussy, Troy. You better try and make me cum good. If you make me cum, I'll let you up."

"Don't!" he shrieked. "You sick fuckin' bitch! I'm gonna tell your mom what a fucking pervert you are!!"

"Save it," she snorted. "The Bible don't say nothin' about incest. Practically enshrines it, truth be told. And you'll be eatin' Carol, Wendy, Momma's and my pussy lots before we're done here." With that, she sat down on his face.

"And you're gonna learn to love it. That's how it's going to be. Now eat. And quit strugglin' you ain't goin' nowhere."

He turned his head to the side, overwhelmed by the flesh of her pudenda, buttocks, and thighs. The smell made him nauseous. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and thrashed desperately to extricate himself from beneath her.

"You best set to lickin'," Glenda stated. "I can sit here all day."

Troy struggled. He kicked. He twisted. He began to see the inevitability of his fate but he wouldn't accept it. This was revolting! Inhuman! How could she do this to him?

Her hot, hairy vulva pressed down on his cheek. He began to cry again. He lay there sobbing for a time, engulfed in hot, moist, tangly, fragrant womanhood. He wished his mother were here. She wouldn't allow this. She would rescue him; surely she couldn't have known what these sick, inbred hillbillies were capable of. His mother was from the civilized side of the family. She could save him! He had to find a phone; she would fly him home, back to safety, back to the city. He would never see Kevin again, never suck a dick again, he would marry a girl, any girl she picked for him, if only he could be spared... this.

But his mother wasn't here. Only him... and Glenda. He prayed for a miracle, anything to save him from this horrid pig-beast who was using his head for a seat. But no miracle came. Slowly, miserably, he resigned himself to the fact that there was only one way out of this.

Reluctantly, filled with revulsion, he he slowly turned his head. Glenda felt his action, and lessened the weight she was pressing down on him. Her musky, damp cleft was bare millimetres above his mouth. Forcing his tongue to move, he snaked it out and slid it along her inner folds. He gagged. It seemed like licking snot off of a piece of bacon.

"Good boy, Troy, that's it," Glenda encouraged him from atop his mouth. "Get to it. Make me cum and I'll let you up."

Completely horrified, humiliated, and disgusted, he willed his tongue to move. Up and down. Back and forth. From the front of her slit, across her pearly clit, past her utethra, to the juicy entrance of her vagina, and back again. He wanted to die. He was being used for her pleasure. Violated. Forced. He had never imagined a complete invalidation of his personhood like this. He had fantasized about being raped, but it was always by boys. Shoving their thick cocks up his ass. Making him suck them and swallow all their sperm. Holding him down, grabbing his hair, pinning his arms behind his back. He never dreamed he would be raped by a girl.

But that's what was happening to him. His own cousin was raping his mouth with her disgusting vagina. And he was helpless to do anything to stop her.

He licked and licked, each taste and sensation was a fresh horror, an affront to his sexuality and dignity. He cried as he ate his cousin, forcing himself to lick her harder and harder, praying for her just to cum so it would be over.

He worked his tongue soullessly, dispassionately... like he was a robot. He tried to turn his brain off, to detach from his body. But his senses betrayed him. He could taste her. Smell her. Feel her weight, her heat, her wetness, hear her breathing. At least he could close his eyes.

"C'mon, Troy, lick faster. Move that tongue. Don't be shy, get it right up in there. Make me cum, and I'll let you go. The faster you do it, the better it'll be for the both of us."

He sobbed and sped his pace. Flicking his tongue back and forth, he slid his tongue all over her inner folds. He found that she made little gasping noises as he made contact with her clit. Would this bring her off faster? He concentrated his efforts there.

"Yeah, Troy, that's it. That's better. Mmm, uh huh, keep doin' it like that..."

Was she going to cum? He prayed, prayed so hard for that to be true. Diligently, deliberately, he began beating his tongue against her little love-nub as hard and fast as he could.

"Mm! Mm, yeah! That's it, you've got it! Just like that, just like that. That's good, Troy, more, more... Ooh, keep doin' it. Mm! Mm! Oh yeah, I'm gettin' close! I'm gettin' close! Keep lickin' me! Oh, Troy! Yeah! Yeah! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cummmm...!"

She squealed and shivered. Thrusting her butt up and out, she bore down and ground her pussy on his probing tongue. She bucked and quivered, gasping and sighing, eventually letting out a long breath and a soft moan.

After she got her breath back a bit, she stood up and released Troy. He just lay there, his face glazed with her secretions, sobbing.

"Ok, Troy, you can get up," she said softly. He didn't move. "Troy, look, I'm real sorry. I didn't want it to be like this. I wanted it to be all nice-like. But you said some mean, mean things. And I'm gonna do what I can to forgive you. But we gotta fix you, and it ain't gonna be easy for you. You gotta respect me, ya hear? You respect me and I'll respect you, ok?"

Troy continued laying on his back, sobbing and wishing for death.

"Troy, I love you, ok? We all do. The Bible teaches us to love the sinner and hate the sin. So we're gonna fix you, we're gonna make you right. Just remember we're doin' it with love, ok?"

Troy rolled over onto his side. He still sobbed and sobbed. This was unbearable. He'd never felt so used and dehumanized. He was mortified.

"C'mon, get up," Glenda said tenderly. "I'm real sorry, Troy, ok? But ya can't talk to me like that, ok? Now c'mon, we got chores. We gotta feed the pigs and the cattle. C'mon, get up, Troy. Won'cha get up for me?"

Sadly, hopelessly, he managed to rise. He wiped his face. His hand came away sticky and gooey.

His cousin, naked but for her T-shirt, went to her coveralls and obtained a handkerchief. Her breasts strained beneath the white cotton, and her nipples poked through. "C'mon, let me get that for you..."

She made to gently wipe his face, but Troy recoiled, flailing his hands and crying out in terror, "Don't touch me, don't touch me!!"

"It's ok, Troy, it's ok! I ain't gonna hurt ya! Here, take the handkerchief. Here it is. Take it. It's ok, wipe your face, it's ok, I won't hurt ya..."

Troy managed to snatch the kerchief and wipe his face, his tears mingling with her juices. He stank of her pussy. He would for the rest of the day.

"It's ok, Troy, I'll never hurt ya. You just take a moment, ok? I'll finish feeding the chickens, then I'll come and getcha and we'll feed the pigs. It's ok, Troy, it really is. It'll be fine, you'll see."

...to be continued.