tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMaking Troy A Man Ch. 05

Making Troy A Man Ch. 05


Troy awaked. Once again. To the distant bellowing of his Aunt Lulu, and the warm, soft tones of his cousin Glenda's voice. The sharp jolt of alarm and nausea this generated in him was something he was getting accustomed to.

"Wake up, Tiger!" she said merrily. "Wow, I had such a good sleep. Real good dreams." She chuckled. "Real good. You were in one of 'em."

"Oh, uh, good morning, Gumdrop," he replied. "Oh yeah? Dreamin' about me?" He managed a grin and a chuckle, and instantly his brain was into overdrive. Remembering what had occurred last night, and forming ideas, getting ready for another nightmare of a day, and planning courses of action. He wasn't sure exactly what to make of his bizarre encounter with Wendy last night. But he was scoring it as a net positive in the time being. Any headway he could make into understanding these deviants' motivations, or establishing any kind of connection with them, had to be a good thing. He just had to strategize very carefully on how to turn it to maximum advantage. His current situation demanded some 'Glenda management', so he furthered his foray into flattery. She seemed to eat up any cornball bullshit he lofted her way. He had to be careful to not get careless or overconfident in that department, however. "You're my daydream, y' know, Gumdrop," he ventured sleepily. "You're what I think about every time I have any spare moment."

Glenda blushed predictably, smiling that stupid, rustic, buck-tooth grin he had gotten used to. "Aw, gosh, Troy, you're really the pearl of all the prairies! I love ya so much... Gosh, I just love ya... I can't wait fer every moment we're gonna spend together! Even doin' chores with ya gives me such a lift, I feel like I could run the whole farm myself!"

Troy devoted the best effort he could to humouring her and trying to echo her spirits and enthusiasm. Inside he knew the clock was ticking, and he was coming to increasingly desperate and alarming conclusions. He was trapped here and he couldn't think of a way out.

His mind went over many scenarios of simple 'escape,' but that was far too simplistic. Getting away was one thing. Surviving was another. And staying away was a third part to the equation. Living in the city for nearly all his life, existing by cash, credit cards, cell phones and automobiles, he was ill equipped for the sort of adjustments his current situation would foist upon him.

He simply could not come up with an adequate follow up of what to do beyond stocking up with food, water, a knife, flashlight, hatchet, blankets and some outer wear. Where would he go? How would he get there? Who would he ask for help? It was difficult for him to not lose all hope. He had to keep forcing his mind to look for alternatives and options.

For the time being, much as he hated to admit it, he seemed to be stuck here. For at least the weekend. Well, anyway, it would be a break in the routine somewhat. And church seemed of genuine interest to him. He would at least know where the church was, how to get there, and meet some of the other locals. He might see in what directions they drove off. Or rode off. Or walked, if they were perhaps close enough for that. He wrote off quickly the desperate part of his mind that considered seeking asylum there. If their 'pastor' was the one who provided Aunt Lulu with all of her biblical justifications for rape and incest, there was no way he could approach any of the clergy here with any sort of honest and rational grievances.

Chores were actually light today, pleasantly enough. Anything that didn't involve immediate care and feeding of the livestock didn't seem to be on the agenda. Glenda indicated that harvest would be coming up next week, and all the preparation and maintenance was already managed. So tonight would be a time to cut loose and have a bit of fun, as the next stretch was going to be "all work an' no play" pretty much until the harvest was complete. That suited him fine, as any sort of 'fun' that went on around here he was sure would be a horrifying experience for him. He tried not to dread whatever upcoming 'festivities' would be occurring tonight. His curiosity was eating away at him. He knew it would involve whisky, Viagra, heels and stockings. And dance music. He dared not consider specific scenarios, just for the sake of his sanity.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. Outside of grinding up against him or mashing her boobs into him on occasion, Glenda seemed to be just in a fun, good mood. He found himself enjoying her company on occasion, making jokes and engaging in light horseplay. As long as the physical contact was kept to a minimum, as it still made his skin crawl, he came to a startling realization. He actually liked her.

If you discounted the unforgivably deviant, predatory behaviour she had exhibited, she was genuinely a nice person. She was warm, kind, friendly and enthusiastic. And she was funny. She had a good sense of humour and never had a bad word to say about pretty much anything. Her knowledge and experiences were rustic and provincial, but he recognized that she was a product of her environment. He wondered what she might have turned out like if she had been born in the city, like him. With urban, cosmopolitan, progressive, modern values and education available to her. He kind of felt sorry for her.

In any case, an honest affection towards her made it much easier to play his role. He just cautioned himself not to get too far carried away with it.


Dinner time came, and the family gathered in the kitchen and the living room. Glenda and Aunt Lulu were doing most of the cooking tonight, and Troy had set the table. He made a conscious effort to belie his apprehension about what might occur after dinner.

Carol and Wendy finished up whatever tasks they had to accomplish, and ended up lounging in the living room before the meal. They were chatting in typical fashion about preparations for the harvest. It sounded like all was going fairly smoothly. Wendy paused to glance at Troy periodically with a sly leer on her face, and every time she did so his cock twitched, much to his alarm and chagrin. He did his best to ignore it.

"So Troy," Carol said, fixing him with an appraising look, "How about you? Y' think yer ready fer harvest?"

"Uh, sure," he replied, a bit surprised that he was being addressed directly by her. "I mean, I don't really know what it's going to be like, hard work so I hear, but I don't know what I would do to get ready. I guess I'll just follow all your lead."

"Mmhm," Carol grunted. She brushed a lock of her shortish, dirty blonde hair from off her face. "Glenda says yer a great help. An' from what y'been sayin', y'don't seem t'mind the hard work. An' if I do gotta say so, yer arms are even lookin' a little bandier."

Troy was taken aback. He realized that, even though all his muscles were still achingly sore, many of the tasks he undertook today didn't seem so impossible as they had in the previous days. He glanced down automatically to inspect his arms. They did indeed look more defined, toned. His biceps were even suggesting a hint of a bulge.

"Oh, sure," he tried to say dismissively, as if he was completely aware of all this. "It's hard work, but I think I'm toughening up. I mean, I never did anything like this. My hands are sore, my muscles ache... but it's getting... easier, I think. I imagine if I grew up around here I'd be shaped a lot more like you four." He quickly realized that statement could be interpreted in a very negative way, so quickly followed up, "I mean, even look at Glenda. Her arms are... and her hands! I mean, she could probably pick up a bale of hay all by herself! And you, Wendy, Aunt Lulu... I mean, your legs and shoulders and everything... I figure any one of you are stronger than any ten people I know back in the city! Well, except for my father, of course..."

Carol chuckled, apparently amused. "Well, that's prob'ly right enough... we all worked hard all our lives. An' Glenda and Momma said ya like us bigger farm girls anyways. That right, Troy?"

Oh fuck. The conversation always seemed to get steered in that sort of direction. With Wendy present, Troy had to be extra careful. He was aware of her regarding him in sly fashion. His cousins might be uneducated by his standards, but they were crafty.

"Oh, sure!" Troy smiled. "If you'd spent more time with my mother, and all the other girls I grew up with, I'm sure you'd know why. I mean, I love my mother and all, and I miss her, but she's... high strung, and kinda... well, useless. All the girls there just want to be thin, and have flashy clothes, makeup, hair and nails done, and get attention. Any of them that get a career pretty much just want to do that until they can marry some rich bastard... I mean dude, sorry... and then have kids and be taken care of. And then after they have the kids, they're all going to want tummy tucks, boob jobs, and probably face lifts and who knows what else? You couldn't trust any of them to change a light bulb, let alone fix a tractor or mend a fence."

Carol chuckled again, with a bit of a smug grin on her face. "Well, you ain't gonna find many girls like that around here, thank the Almighty. Y' know Troy, I still remember yer visit out here back when. I always thought y' were soft, not much hope fer ya. Might be a fault o' mine, but I think that lots about city folk. But I gotta say, y' really impressed me here so far. There's a lot more t' ya than meets the eye."

"Well, thank you very much, Carol," Troy replied. This was odd. He was living in abject terror of his cousins and Aunt his whole time here, and now things seemed to be turning around a bit again? He had to think his way through this carefully. And be aware that Wendy was always watching, always listening, and that they both had a secret they shared. "To be honest, I always thought country folk were sorta simple, lazy. I can tell now nothing could be further from the truth! You all work harder than anyone I know, and well, you might not know much about rocket science or anything like that, but I might've learned more here in the last few days than I think I might have learned in all my years at school!"

Carol had a warm smile on her face now. "Y' know Troy, you're all right. Any o' th' queers we had out here before were hard cases. Real, like, hom'sexuals, y 'know? I wasn't too sure about you, but what Glenda an' Momma said, what I seen, what yer sayin' here an' now... why, well..." she sort of trailed off.

What was she getting at? Was he playing these hicks all to the point where they were convinced we was undergoing some sort of miracle transformation? He knew that Wendy would not be so easily convinced. But three out of four surely had to a ratio that played well in his favour, especially if Aunt Lulu was one of them.

"Uh, Carol...?" he probed carefully. "Were you going to... say something more?" Wendy just kind of sneered at him.

"Well, Troy," Carol said thoughtfully. "I guess ya prob'ly know that Momma told me an' Wendy t' back off. You an' Glenda got somethin' goin' on there. An' me, I couldn't be happier 'bout it. Yer actually real cute together. An' yer good fer Glenda. Why, she's practically been on cloud nine, last couple days. Well, anyways, yer here why yer here. Yer here t' get fixed. An' I know turnin' queers right is the Lord's work, so I gotta do it. But I never cared much fer the real hom'sexuals. I mean, it's always rewardin' to see 'em get right, an' knowin' they's a step closer to earnin' a seat at the Father's table, but I like a boy eatin' my pussy what likes doin' it. An' y' c'n always tell. An' well, Troy... I honestly think yer gonna like eatin' my pussy. An' I gotta say, well, I'm real lookin' forward t' that." She finished with a huge, warm smile on her face. Wendy giggled.

Troy had no idea how to reply to that. He was consistently stunned as to how they could be so nonchalant about such horrifying, disgusting, unconscionable, criminal behaviour. He did his best to return a warm smile, despite the icy geysers that were threatening to erupt full force in his belly.

"Carol," he began, "Well, I never thought I'd say anything like this. A week ago I never would have even thought I'd think it! But, well... hell... I mean, heck, sorry... you all are so frank! It's tough for me to really be open, ya know... But, here goes. Well, Glenda, I really like her. I mean, I really, really do. And I like... well, I really like eatin' her pussy. I love it, really. But what really turns me on is, well, watchin' her... masturbate." He swallowed. He was sweating. He tried hard to not let it show, to keep that same fake grin up. "And I don't ever want to do anything to upset Glenda! I mean, she's first for me. Like, I really, really like her. But, uh, if she doesn't mind, and you don't mind..." How far could he push this? Convince them he was straight, convince them he was straight... That's all his mind could come up with. Glenda was in his camp, Aunt Lulu seemed to be too... maybe he could get Carol in there with them? "Uh, maybe, like sometime, if you want to, uh, maybe I could watch you masturbate... too?"

Carol broke out in a peal of amused laughter. Aunt Lulu poked her head out from the kitchen curiously to briefly eye the situation.

"Why, Troy," Carol beamed, "Y'know, I think I know why Glenda fell fer ya like she did! Yer just really a cutie pie! Well, I think that I gotta ask Glenda, right? An' I gotta ask Momma. But ya know, if it's gonna help ya get right, an' Glenda an' Momma don't mind, I think I'd be just as pleased as a pig in a mud hole t' pet my pussy down fer ya!" She chuckled again, her massive breasts undulating as her belly shook. She turned and smacked Wendy on the arm jovially. "Why, this boy's all right!" she exclaimed.

Wendy just smirked and rolled her eyes. "Yup, maybe he is," she remarked. "Tonight should be fun." She fixed Troy with an intent look briefly. "I'm really lookin' forward t' church this weekend, though..." He instantly felt fear at her gaze. And his cock clenched and twitched.


The meal was delicious, and Troy was ravenous. He ate everything on his plate and had two extra helpings. He found that he was adjusting to the cuisine here. Unsophisticated, it was at least honest. Predictable, somewhat bland, but wholesome and filling. He tried to just concentrate on the moment, not worrying about what would happen when dinner was finished. In any case, his body was screaming for nourishment. He was suppressing any nausea, any apprehension. If he was to survive, he needed food. And rest. And he was determined to survive.

He helped clear the table after a dessert of chocolate pudding, and the three daughters started washing the dishes and cleaning up.

"Troy!" Aunt Lulu called. "Come upstairs for a minute, Sugar! Auntie wants to chat with ya!"

"Okay, coming, Auntie!" he replied. He had butterflies in his stomach. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to be happening pretty quickly. He was already mentally preparing himself; putting up walls, armour. Shielding his vulnerable parts. Ready to act. Put on a performance.

Climbing the stairs, he followed as his Aunt into the spare bedroom. She leant on the dresser with a broad grin. Troy tried to look pleasant, maybe eager. At least inquisitive.

"Well, Sugar, we're gonna have a bit of a hoedown here. Do every Saturday. This one gonna be a bit rowdier since it's last one afore harvest. Sometimes we have folks over, or go to their place. But tonight just gonna be fer th' family here. Girls all play, an' me too. Fiddles, banjo and guitar. Yer momma said ya don't play nothin', but tha's okay. Ya c'n jes' clap along, stamp yer feet, whatever. We get up an' dance a bit when we're in th' mood too. You don't gotta get involved if ya got nothin', I don't 'spect ya t' like our kinda music. You jes' do what y' can t' enjoy yerself, y' hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied.

"Good boy," she smiled. "Okay, Troy, we got some stuff for ya in Looton. Yer momma told me all 'bout how she found ya, an' Glenda told me about yer l'il problem. I tried a couple o' things t' get things happenin', but yer ol' Auntie's got lotsa tricks up her sleeves. First of all, I wanna tell ya that there ain't no pressure. If this works it works, an' if'n it don't, it don't. Auntie ain't gonna be upset neither way. So anyway, here's the thing."

His aunt took a couple of boxes off the dresser and put them on the bed.

"We got ya heels, yer size I'm sure, stockings an' a garter belt. Got ya some makeup. Pretty good stuff too, I think. I don't know much about makeup, but the girls said the salesgirl recommended it. An' we got a couple o' cassette tapes made by a friend there. That Madonna lady, an' a couple others I ain't never heard of. S'posed t' be good dancin' music though, if that's the sort y' like. Now hopefully that's all the right stuff. Stuff what turns ya on. Now you listen to yer Auntie, Troy MacAdam, you ain't got t' feel no shame, no embarrassment 'bout any o' that. Y' hear? Dancin' ain't no sin. Makeup ain't no sin. Ain't no kind o' clothin' that's a sin. An' nakedness ain't no sin neither. Why, Adam an' Eve didn't know nothin' 'both that until the Serpent tricked 'em both. Don't you feel one bit sinful or shameful 'bout none o' this, y' hear? I already talked t' Wendy and Carol, an' Glenda, why, I think y' could come down in a weddin' dress or ball gown an' she'd love ya no matter what. No how, ain't none of us gonna shame ya or make fun. Y' hear? If this's what turns ya on, we're all gonna embrace ya an' love ya jes' the same. Un'erstan'? You gettin' what I'm sayin' here, Sugar?"

Troy gulped. "Yes, Ma'am," was all he could manage.

"Okay, Sugar, here's what's gonna happen. We all gonna go downstairs, me an' the girls gonna make some music. Drink a couple belts of whisky, you too. You jes' make sure an' tell Auntie if ya got any headache, lightheadedness, or heart skippin', all right? We might do a bit o' dancin' too, gonna have some fun. We all cut loose a bit, an' after about an hour, gonna send you upstairs. You got three quarters an hour, no more, you get ready, y' hear? Put on th' makeup, make yerself purty as y' like. Get undressed an' jes' put all them girlie duds on, okay? Y' come downstairs when yer ready. Three quarters an hour. That's the time ya got. Think y' c'n get yerself all dressed an' purty in that time, Sugar?"

"Uh, sure, yes, Ma'am," he replied in a strange trance. Every five seconds or so his brain would scream out how utterly insane and deranged every bit of this was. He struggled to keep his brain quiet.

"All right then, when yer ready, y' come downstairs. We got the tape cued up, put on that Madonna lady fer ya. An' ya jes' dance. Think y' c'n do that, Troy? We all gonna be supportive, Troy. Ya gotta know that. None o' us gonna judge ya none er make fun. You jes' do what comes natural to ya, whatever turns ya on. Auntie jes' wants t' see if y' c'n get a woodie doin' that. All right? An' no pressure, if ya can't, then ya can't. Ain't no one gonna be mad or upset about that. We all love ya, Troy. Ya un'derstan'? We love ya, an' whatever makes ya feel randy is jes' the way you was made. So you jes' do what y' were doin' when yer momma caught ya, an' show Auntie if that helps ya get a woodie. An' if it works, we're another big step in helpin' ya get right. An' if not, well, nothin' lost by tryin', an' ol' Auntie Lulu got plenty o' other ideas, got it?"

"Yes... yes, Ma'am!" he replied again. He was confused. Flabbergasted. And terrified. Do... what he was doing when his mother caught him??? Surely she didn't mean... his trick? Ass in the air, sucking his own cock??? Surely, his mother didn't mention that particular detail??? He didn't dare ask for clarification. He didn't want to start splitting hairs into what might be sinful or not... Best to assume no one had knowledge of that. Except... his mother. That remembrance almost made him want to burst out crying again. Shame. Horror. But he struggled to control himself. He didn't want to cry in front of his aunt ever again. No matter what.

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