The Cottonwood Stud Ranch

Gabriella was already there, catching him with surprising strength for her small stature. She held Liam upright until the world stopped spinning and the sight of a colonial-era farmhouse swirled into view.

It was a sprawling two-story edifice with white stucco walls, a slate-tiled roof, tall columns, and shaded wrap-around verandas. A genuine wicker rocking chair stood beside the front entrance, like something out of a history documentary.

Neatly trimmed shrubs of purple lilac and pink hydrangeas ringed the home in summer blossoms while garden beds filled with creeping thyme and Russian sage perennials flowered like sprays of violet and rouge against the verdant green of the manicured lawn.

"I've got you, Liam. Lean on me." The buxom blonde slung his scrawny arm over her shoulder and guided them forward. "We'll get you patched up in no time. Right as rain, I promise."

A screen door creaked open, and the click of heels on wood rang sharply in his ears.

"Gabriella, what is the meaning of this?" An authoritative female voice inquired. "You were sent to collect fresh feed for the chattel. Who is that stranger?"

"This is Liam; a lost traveler waylaid by misfortune, Miss Lily. He was in a car accident and needs medical attention, ma'am."

Liam gawped at the mature, statuesque vision standing atop the stoop.

Miss Lily was a fair-skinned, caramel-haired lady in her middle years. Her face could have graced billboards, and her trim, robust figure could rival those of much younger women.

She held herself with regal refinement, frowning down her nose at Gabriella, attired in close-fitting blue jeans that hugged her flaring hips and a deep v-necked matching denim vest without a blouse to better enhance her magnificent chest.

It also appeared that cowboy boots and hats came with the wheat fields.

Stern gray eyes snapped to Liam, giving him a critical once-over before the imperious mask cracked and a beatific smile bloomed like the arrival of dawn.

"Gracious, an accident? You poor dear!" Suddenly, she was the picture of motherly compassion, gliding forward with arms spread wide, ready for an embrace. "My, that's quite the egg on your forehead. Let's get you inside, out of the heat, and I'll check you over."

Her delicate fingers feathered over his various bumps and scratches before taking his arm and sending Gabriella running to fetch a cold compress. Liam watched her skip away with a nervous expression.

Something about being alone with the imposing Miss Lily unsettled him.

"Honestly, I don't want to be a bother. If you could just lend me a phone--"

"A bother? Not at all, dear. Not one bit." The matronly beauty hugged his unimpressive bicep against her bosom. It vanished entirely into pale softness. "What sort of woman would I be, turning away someone in need? It wouldn't be neighborly. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, knowing I could have helped."

Liam reeled under the barrage of kind words. Then there were stairs under his feet, and a door opened to admit him into blessed coolness.

The interior of the farmhouse was equally as grand and historically preserved as the exterior.

High ceilings with rustic timber beams and hanging light fixtures loomed above the spacious entry foyer. Twin stairways curved up to the second story on either side of the room. Framed portraits and oil paintings decorated the wood panel walls. A large handwoven rug covering the mosaic tile floor muffled their footsteps.

"Really, I'm fine." He tried again. "I just need to call--"

"I won't hear of it. Not another word out of you, dear. Not a peep." Miss Lily steered them down a side hallway leading to the east wing of the house. The place was huge. "Not until you have had a thorough examination and something to eat. You're injured, dear. Now, stop being such a bullheaded male, and let me tend to you. I swear, you men would sooner let a limb fall off than admit you need help."

Her admonishments were lighthearted and laced with amusement, so Liam allowed her to ferry him into a white, well-lit room that looked like an infirmary from the seventies, complete with a nurse's desk, medicine cabinets, and adjustable examination bed with privacy curtains.

"Here we are. Please disrobe and take a seat," she ordered, moving to a small brass basin to wash her hands. "Don't be shy, dear. I have four daughters; you won't have anything I haven't already handled."

Liam wanted to protest. Inform her that it was only his skull that hurt and the rest of him was in relatively normal condition. He could probably get by with a few aspirin and a nap, but the sheer force of personality Miss Lilly exuded had him stripping down to his underwear and feeling a tad exposed.

Especially when he noticed the drying cum-stains on his jocks.

"There you go, good boy." She beamed, scanning his skinny frame and completely failing to mention the crusty splotches. "Let's get you comfortable."

She pushed him onto the examination bed and reached over to prop a pillow behind his head. Her tremendous tits almost fell out of her denim vest as the caramel-haired MILF took her time getting him settled, waving them in his reddening face until she was finally done.

"So... uh, is Gabriella one of your daughters?" Liam asked, desperate for a distraction.

Her proximity and ministrations were triggering an embarrassing physiological response.

"You noticed?" She bent at the waist to search through the desk drawer. Her delicious rump swayed side to side. "What gave it away?"

"I-I... ahem," He had to clear his throat and look away. "I noticed a distinct family resemblance."

"Everybody says she has my smile." Miss Lily glanced back at him with a cheeky grin. "Gabriella is my youngest and has much of her father in her. Lucky girl. My late husband was a selfless, giving soul--a doting parent taken from us too soon."

Liam wasn't about to broach a subject as crass as hereditary bustlines simply to correct the nice lady.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He mumbled awkwardly instead.

She didn't seem too choked up about it, donning latex gloves with a wink and screwing the cap off a large tub of antiseptic ointment.

"Thank you, dear. That's all in the distant past, and I've learned to soldier on the best I can in his absence. The dead are at peace; the rest of us have crops and families to raise. Let's begin by cleaning those cuts and scratches."

What followed was an exhaustive inspection of Liam's naked flesh. Miss Lily's touch was cool but soothing as she rubbed acrid-smelling cream into every nick and scrape she could find. Her gloved hands massaged his tired back and neck muscles, easing a tension he hadn't realized was there.

Throughout it all, she kept brushing against him.

A coil of her silky hair would skim across his prickling skin, or her questing fingers would stray dangerously close to somewhere intimate. Liam felt her hot breath wash over him on multiple occasions, and she kept making quiet, appreciative sounds which could be construed as... excitement.

"You can stop now. I think that's all of them." He groaned, crossing his legs to conceal a stiffening bulge. "My head is still quite sore, though."

"Of course, dear. We have something for that." Miss Lily cooed, removing her gloves with a rubbery snap and sashaying to a medicine cabinet. "An anti-inflammatory should ease the pain. We don't have the usual brands, but these should do the job."

She tossed him an unlabelled pill bottle and filled a glass with water from the basin faucet. The bottle was purple and had a pink childproof lid.

"Take two of those with water whenever you feel the beginnings of a headache. Any cerebral pressure is a bad sign, so err on the side of caution." Her hungry gaze flickered to his engorged groin for a millisecond before snatching up his discarded shirt and jeans. "I'll have Gabriella find some proper clothes for you to wear while these are patched and laundered. In the meantime..."

She stepped outside for a brief moment, returning with an ancient rear projection television and attached VCR on a rattling steel trolly.

"...you can watch this; a short history of our farm. Consider it an abridged account of who we are and where we came from. Dreadfully boring stuff, dear, but it passes the time." Miss Lily tittered, pressing the power button with a dainty, lacquered digit. "Dinner is at six. Don't be tardy. Toodeloo!"

She swept from the room like a denim-clad empress, her lengthy, caramel-colored hair streaming in her wake.

Liam wanted to say more, but before he could, the screen came to life with a jaunty country ditty. Banjos and guitars dueled as the words "Cottonwood Stud Ranch" scrolled over an aerial shot of the farm in blocky yellow text. The recording was old, as evidenced by occasional sound distortion and lines of static.

When the title sequence ended, the video cut to an attractive older woman with feathered blonde hair wearing a lab coat over a knee-length boatneck dress in a floral pattern. Her elegant facial features and prodigious bust instantly identified her as a blood relative of Gabriella and Miss Lily.

She stood in a broad field of grass with the farmhouse and several horned heads of cattle in the background, smiling winsomely into the camera, hands clasped beneath her mighty bosom.

"Hello. My name is Doctor Abigail Miller, and I'm happy to welcome you to Cottonwood Stud Ranch; home to the latest developments in modern crossbreeding and genetic selection of Bos Taurus, more commonly known as the simple bovine.

"Here, we are trialing several groundbreaking scientific methods for maximizing each unit's growth and yield through modified feed supplements and specialized conditioning...."

Liam distractedly shook two pills out of the bottle and swallowed them with water from the glass. The throbbing in his skull slowly eased as Doctor Abigail rambled on about the advantages of artificial insemination, desirable gene markers in stud bulls, and the gestational periods of cows.

Much of the content went over his head--the different chemical interactions of certain formulas especially--but the camera was gradually zooming on her enchanting face as she spoke.

Her very, very pretty face, with full cherry lips and intelligent gray eyes, stared directly at him, twinkling with a hint of wicked promise that was wholly unprofessional.

"Our prize studs produce the finest and most virile semen on the market in quantities that surpass all previous records." The Doctor's accented voice became a husky purr, causing Liam's stiffness to pulse. Something in her gentle cadence held him enthralled as his hand shifted southward, sliding beneath his soiled underwear. "Their stamina and fertility rates are well above industry standards, capable of impregnating entire herds of happy heifers."

Without really thinking about it, Liam's fist closed around his cock. Absently pumping, his gaze glued to the mesmerizing blonde cougar on the screen. She ran a sensual tongue over her teeth and fluttered her long eyelashes at him.

"We raise the biggest and strongest male stock here at Cottonwood Stud Ranch. Constantly striving to breed a better, more superior line of bulls to ensure future calving seasons are filled to the brim with healthy offspring."

"Oh... oh, fuck!" He grunted, cumming quickly and violently into his palm.

The climax was as unexpected as it was explosive but also felt somewhat cathartic. As though all the stresses and pressures built up across the day were exorcized in an ebullient gush of sticky seed.

"Thank you very much." Doctor Abigail crooned from the television. Her satisfied grin reflected a Cheshire cat's mischievousness. "I hope you enjoyed this presentation and please consider the Cottonwood Stud Ranch as a potential investment opportunity. As we are fond of saying; our best qualities can be found in our DNA."

Liam sat there shaking his head like a dog after a swim. What was he thinking doing... that in a stranger's home, and when had he become a one-pump chump?

Quickly washing up in the basin and tucking himself away, he turned to find Gabriella standing in the doorway with a saucy smirk and an armload of clean clothing.

"Whatcha doing, Daddy?" She sang in a little girl tone. "Miss Lily wanted me to bring you fresh duds and an ice pack for your bruised noggin."

Gabriella helped him dress in a beige linen work shirt, age-worn jeans, and a belt with an ornate steel buckle, which she took her time fastening, stealing the chance for a frisky fondle before rising on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his chin.

"There, now you're the spitting image of a genuine country gentleman, Daddy. We only need to get you boots and a hat."

"You needn't go to the trouble," Liam mumbled, rubbing his neck. "Please don't think me ungrateful, but I'm not staying long. There's my new job in Detroit and--"

"Of course, Daddy. Let's just enjoy our time together while it lasts." The young blonde nodded, taking his hand and leading them into the hallway. "C'mon, I promised you some grub, and Miss Lily can't abide lollygaggers."

"You should probably stop calling me that too. What if someone overhears us?"

"Whatever you say, Daddy."

It wasn't until they were winding through the labyrinthine corridors and adjoining spaces of the enormous farmhouse that Liam realized his headache was completely gone.

________________

"Hmm, it's nearly six o'clock." Miss Lilly sighed, checking the grandfather clock ticking solemnly in a corner. "Those girls are cutting it close... as usual."

The dining room was a grand affair, with wood-trimmed everything and a stone fireplace crackling merrily at one end. Liam was seated in the place of honor at the end of an antique walnut table large enough to seat a party of twelve, and the heat from the nearby fire baked his back.

Fine china and silverware were set out before him in ranks on a frilly tablecloth, arranged in a puzzle he couldn't decipher. Was the tiny two-pronged fork for salad or for fish? It seemed important. Obscure remembrances about proper manners and etiquette flitted through his racing mind.

Gabriella had claimed the chair kitty-corner from his left side, scooting it closer enough to slip a soft hand over his thigh. This left several empty seats between them and her mother at the head of the table. Tureens of steaming soup, baskets of oven-fresh bread, platters of flame-grilled red meat, and roasted vegetables filled the room with gut-rumbling aromas.

Liam nearly drooled at the sight of a nearby gravy boat filled with rich brown goodness.

"Please excuse the humble fare." Miss Lily waved dismissively at the mouth-watering spread. "My predecessors swore by home cooking and we try to be self-sufficient out here, far from modern conveniences."

"It all smells amazing." He wanted to inhale the feast. Hunger clawed at his belly. "I'm truly thankful for everything you've done for me today. I won't soon forget your hospitality."

"Oh, you are too kind," The matronly belle tittered, toying with a lock of her glossy caramel hair. "I'm just an old widow doing the best I can to raise my family and keep this farm afloat. Times are tough, but we get by."

"About that." Liam covertly batted Gabriella's groping fingers away from his crotch. "The sign over the gate and the video you showed me called this place a ranch? Do you keep livestock? I only saw wheat fields on the journey here."

"It was originally a ranch," Miss Lily conceded, pursing her plump lips in thought. "And we keep some legacy breeds in distant pastures, but wheat is the lifeblood of this region. The government subsidizes our crops, offering payouts for bumper yields. Much of the beef production has migrated to neighboring states like Oklahoma, Missouri, and Texas. When the market changes, so must we."

"That is very admirable..."

"We're here! Right on time, ma'am!" A duet of high-pitched calls preceded two of the most outrageously proportioned girls Liam had ever seen bustling energetically into the room.

Pretty heart-shaped faces framed by flowing curtains of dark chocolate hair capped their extravagantly curvaceous young figures. Lush hips and astoundingly bountiful bosoms, that would have made a Kardashian blush, bounced hypnotically within clingy jeggings and straining red bikini tops. The rest of their bodies were toned and lean like swimsuit models with bone-deep tans bronzing all that exposed flesh.

Lima had only ever seen their like on the boardwalks of Venice Beach; silicone-stuffed caricatures of extreme womanhood in designer swimwear and sunglasses, flashing chemically brightened smiles and hair while teetering by in ungainly stripper heels.

These girls were somehow the homegrown, organic ideal those surgically enhanced bimbos aspired to be. Natural and glorious in their femininity.

"With two minutes to spare." Miss Lily noted with maternal affection, not at all put out by their scanty attire. "Where's your old sister? It's not like her to be late for mealtimes."

"I'm here. Just finished feeding the bulls." A raven-haired stunner strutted in like a supermodel behind them--an achingly thin beauty with a fair complexion wearing skin-tight hipster jeans and a fashionable black halter top stretched taut across her jaw-dropping chest. "The meatheads were restless tonight, and it took a while to get them settled."

"Mind that loose tongue, girl!" Miss Lilly snapped, and Liam would have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees from the icy steel in her voice. The motherly kindness vanished from her expression. "We have company."

Everyone froze for an instant before three curious pairs of eyes found him sitting beside Gabriella. The heat from the fire returned under all the ass-clenching attention.

"Please pardon my unruly children and my rude outburst." The mature beauty asked sweetly, the country charm returning. "I simply meant that we don't often entertain polite company, and they forget their manners.

As if a spell had been broken, the tension in the air dissipated, and the three sisters relaxed. The identically breasty brunettes hurriedly stole seats closest to Liam, opposite Gabriella, who pouted cutely in irritation.

"Hey there, mister. I'm Trixie, and this is Dixie." Trixie said, practically vibrating with excitement. "We're twins, in case you couldn't tell. It's a pleasure to meet ya!"

"Little Miss Perfect sitting up there with Ma is called Ruby," Dixie whispered conspiratorially, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "She acts like she runs the place already, but don't pay her any mind. What's your name, good-looking?"

She batted thick lashes at him, angling forward to rest her elbows on the table and couching her massive melons between them. She nearly knocked the carefully arranged china and cutlery askew.

"I'm... I'm Liam. Pleased to meet both of you."

Gabriella's grip on Liam's leg grew almost painful as the twins bombarded him with questions. It remained there until Miss Lily called for silence and said grace, thanking the almighty for the meal and, strangely, for Liam's presence.

Then, dishes were passed around, and heaping helpings of food were piled upon his plate at the various girls' insistence. Friendly conversation resumed between appetizing mouthfuls, several of which Gabriella tried to feed him by hand.

Liam dodged her dogged attempts while questioning Miss Lily about getting a message to Detroit.

"I'm terribly sorry, dear, but we don't own a phone. The county never laid a line this far out from any population center, and no telecom company could ever justify the expense. There's not even cell coverage. It's dreadfully inconvenient. " She shook her head sadly, then tapped her chin in thought. "We can probably do something about your car, though.