The Hundred Year Storm

Get ready. I just reread this one last time before publishing it. I laughed and smiled. I got sad, and my eyes teared once or twice. I'm really proud of this story, and I hope it touches you like it does me.

Standard disclaimers apply. All characters are fictitious, and everybody having fun is over eighteen...

Enjoy, and please leave me a comment when you're done.

***

My friends and family didn't know me for always making the most rational choices. To be honest, some things I had done were outright stupid, but the stories I had to tell and the things I had experienced had all been worth it. For example, after my sophomore year in college, I took the bus to Houston and grabbed an Uber to the Port. I talked the captain of the Estrella Naciente, a freighter with an Argentinian flag, into hiring me on to help in the galley for the summer. My American passport was all I needed for identification.

I flew home from Greece just in time to register for fall classes, fluent in whatever version of Spanish the rest of the crew spoke; a lot of it not fit for mixed company, and well versed in a few other things that will become relevant a little later in our story. We had gone to Buenos Aires, Punta Arenas in the southernmost tip of Chile, Cape Town, somewhere in India I couldn't pronounce. Then up through the Suez Canal to Athens, hauling whatever needed to be somewhere else.

At five-eleven and 145 pounds with shoulder length auburn hair and bright green eyes, I stuck out like a sore thumb, but I worked my ass off and had a great time. By the way, if you want to party, find a group of sailors.

So far in my brief life, I hadn't found many dares I wouldn't take. Sometimes, to my detriment. Yeah, I had spent a night or two in jail, but nothing too serious. Mostly it was things that counted as disorderly conduct, drinking a little too much, or being in places I wasn't supposed to be. Nothing that was going to follow me too far or cause problems with finding a job.

Part of my problem was that I was too smart for my own good. I spoke three languages, English, Spanish (or whatever that Argentinian derivative was), and Italian; I chose Italian because I needed the language credit and I saw this hot girl at registration signing up for it. She was cute. I was horny and had no clue where I would ever use it. I didn't get laid, but I learned Italian. It actually came in handy in Greece while I was there.

Texas was my choice for college for a few reasons. First, its business school is world class. Second, the weather is nice almost year-round. Hot as hell in the summer, but I liked the hot weather. I mean, how many other places can you play golf in January in shorts? That same weather meant I could use my vintage Harley as my primary mode of transportation almost all the time. When I couldn't, well, Uber was just a phone call away.

Back to my habit of making bad choices.

I graduated a semester early and sold everything I owned except for my bike and what I could carry on it as I rode. That amounted to a few changes of clothes and the few mementoes of my travels that I cared to keep. The boots my grandfather bought me, pictures of me and my dad, and another of the crew from the Estrella Naciente were my most prized.

With three days to get home, I figured, like I usually did, that nothing bad was going to happen. I filled up my bike and hit the road. My only stop was a spot on the map near a small town somewhere in East Texas to refill my tanks before heading on to Shreveport before turning north. Dark, menacing clouds hung heavy on the horizon, but looked to be a way off and I had played golf with my roommate yesterday, so why was I worried? I had my best leathers on, and they would keep me mostly dry and probably warm enough, so I kept going.

The first gust of frigid artic air almost blew me off my bike. When the torrential sleet turned to blowing snow, I realized maybe this time I had pushed my luck too far. On the back of a bike, in the middle of a blizzard, is not a good place to be. All I could do was slow down and keep going until I found some kind of shelter. When the pickup turned left in front of me, I figured 'what the hell,' and followed him down a dirt road to a large barn filled with stack after stack of hay bales.

"This is private property, missy." He gave me a sideways glance as he hefted a bale into the back of his truck.

I didn't let the missy comment bother me. It happened all the time, especially in my riding gear with my helmet on and my deep auburn hair falling halfway down my back.

"I figured as much, but thought maybe you could help me out and it looks like I might help you out, too." I took my helmet off and hung it on my bike. "I've slung a little hay before, and more hands make for a quicker load."

He looked me up and down and just pointed at the massive stack of bales with his thumb. Between the two of us, we had the bed of his truck stacked four deep in no time at all.

"I really need out of this weather. Do you mind if I hang here until this storm blows over?" I couldn't remember ever hearing someone laugh as hard as he did.

"Boy, you haven't been following the weather, have you? This isn't blowing over. Last I heard was maybe after the first of the year. We got ourselves a hundred-year storm."

"Figures." I chuckled. "I'm a bit of a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy and this time, I guess, it bit me square on the butt."

"Well, grab what you need and climb in. Your bike will be safe enough here, but I'm not letting you freeze to death or burn my hay down trying to stay warm out here." I nodded and grabbed my helmet and bag from the back of my bike.

"Sorry about the missy comment. All that hair..." He cocked his head sideways. "Names Ben." He stuck out his hand and gave me the firmest handshake I had ever felt.

"Chris." I flexed my hand when he let it go. "And don't worry about it. Happens all the time. I just never cared much for haircuts."

We didn't go out the way we came in. Ben drove through a huge pasture, probably the field they had harvested the hay from, and pulled up to a gate. If ever worked a farm at all, you know the drill. When you get to gates, whoever is riding shotgun opens and closes the gate. I hopped out, undid the chain, and closed the gate behind us after Ben drove through, repeating the process twice more.

"Climb in back. When I honk, you toss out two bales." There was no question and no debate. I got out and hopped in the back of the truck with the hay. When he honked, I tossed out two bales and watched as the cattle came out of the snow to get their treat.

Two more gates and we pulled up to the back of a two-story frame house with a huge wrap-around porch.

"Ben, you see my bag?" I asked as I climbed out of the truck. My helmet was on the seat next to me, but my bag was nowhere to be found.

"Was on the floor on your side when you got in. I hope it didn't fall out somewhere when you were opening those gates. We'll never find it in this snow."

"Great." I shook my head and laughed. I mean, what else could I do? It was now dark, and the snow hadn't stopped falling since it started. Wherever my bag was, it was going to stay there for a while, covered with snow that was only getting deeper as we watched it fall. At least my bag was waterproof.

The riding clothes I wore under my leathers were fine. The Kevlar shields they had in key places to protect me if I took a fall made them not so great for casual wear. Especially if I was going to continue helping Ben around his farm, which my work ethic demanded if he was going to let me stay. I figured he wouldn't object to an extra set of hands, either.

"Let's get inside. Maybe Maggie will have an idea. Besides, I'm pretty sure you're as hungry as I am." Ben patted me on the shoulder and pointed toward the back door of the house.

I followed Ben's lead, leaving my riding boots next to his work boots by the back door and hanging my leathers on a hook next to his Carhartt.

"I thought I heard a strange voice. Who's this?" An absolutely adorable bundle of energy, about five-two with big blue eyes and long blonde hair, bounced through the door, pulling Ben into a big kiss.

"This is Chris. He got caught in the storm and needs a place to stay until it clears. He's pretty good at stacking hay, so I thought the least we could do was feed him and give him a bed for the night."

"You must be Maggie." I held out my hand.

She brushed it aside and gave me a big hug. "Welcome to my home. Now you 'boys' go wash up. Dinner is on the table, getting cold. I'll set another place. No trouble at all."

Ben may have been a good foot-and-a-half taller than her and outweighed her by easily a hundred pounds, but it was clear who was in charge.

"Yes, ma'am." Ben and I said it in unison.

Pot roast with mashed potatoes, green beans, hot rolls and perfect sweet tea; I thought I had died and gone to heaven. We ate and talked. I shared stories of some of my adventures and Maggie told me all about her and Ben and their daughter Belle, well mostly she bragged about Belle. Volleyball, basketball, track, full ride to college out west, a few years older than me; she had just finished law school at Stanford and was in L.A. working for an entertainment law firm and loving everything about it. Maggie jumped up, bouncing into the next room and coming back with a picture of a tall blonde standing between Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. I never realized Tom Cruise was so short. Belle definitely got her height from her dad.

My grandfather bought me a handmade pair of custom boots when I graduated from high school. When I pulled them on for the first time, they were the most comfortable shoes I had ever worn. They felt like I had been wearing them for years. Both old and new at the same time, they just fit. That's what sitting down to dinner with Ben and Maggie felt like. It was beyond comfortable. I had been here for just a few hours, but it felt like home.

I told them I had gotten my wanderlust from my mom, who had literally run off with a circus performer when I was ten. That and my dad's somewhat bohemian career as a technology consultant. The difference was, I always came home, wherever home was, and my dad and I had moved a lot. It had been him and me ever since my mom left, and he had always been there for me wherever there was. I will admit when I called him collect from Chile, he almost lost it.

Speaking of which, I excused myself and took out my phone, calling my dad and letting him know what had happened and that my making it for Christmas wasn't looking too good. It had happened before and I'm sure he was more disappointed than surprised, but what could I do about it now? He knew I could take care of myself and as long as I was ok; he was fine with it.

"Your gifts will be here when you get here. Behave and don't make those nice people regret their decision."

"Yes, sir. Love you, Dad." I hung up and went to help Maggie with the dishes.

"Ben tells me you lost your bag opening gates for him." Maggie took the last plate from me and put it in the cupboard.

"Yes, ma'am. I guess I can just wear my riding clothes, but to be honest, they're not the most comfortable clothes to just lounge around and when I was helping load that hay, it was more than uncomfortable."

She stepped back and looked at me up and down in that kind of sideways way that tells you someone is sizing you up.

"You're maybe six feet, right?"

"Yes ma'am. Well, I tell people that, anyway. I'm actually just under." I smiled and chuckled.

"What's your waist on those jeans?"

"Thirty, I think, but they're designed to fit loose."

"Maybe..." She looked like she was doing calculus in her head as she walked around behind me and pulled the back collar of my shirt down to look at the tag.

"My Belle is a big girl." She raised her eyebrows as if deciding whether to go where she was going. In the picture I had seen, Belle had been eye-to-eye with Brad. A nod followed a big sigh.

"They might fit a little funny, but she's got plenty of jeans and shirts left in her room upstairs. Let's go see what we can find that might work." I followed her upstairs to what I could best describe as a shrine; trophies, medals, framed certificates, and pictures of a beautiful, much taller version of Maggie in volleyball and basketball uniforms, and a few astride a beautiful bay horse. Evidently, Belle was pretty good at barrel racing, too.

I picked up a picture of her in her volleyball uniform, admiring the tall, fit woman looking back at me. She was definitely her mother's daughter, but I could see Ben in there too, especially in the height and muscular build.

"Try these for starters." Maggie tossed me a pair of well-worn Wranglers.

I got them up my legs and buttoned. They were snug, but not too bad. The only problem was the way my boxers bunched up in my crotch and poured out around my waist. I tried again a few times, tucking my boxers down my legs as I pulled the jeans up, losing every time. Those jeans and my boxers were a combination that was not destined for success.

Maggie and I both knew my only other option was commando, and there was just something wrong about not wearing underwear in someone else's pants, not that wearing girl's jeans wasn't awkward enough.

"You like adventure. Go in there." She pointed to the bathroom just off Belle's bedroom. "Put these on and see how they feel." She tossed me a pair of plain white cotton bikini briefs from Belle's underwear drawer.

They definitely weren't boxers, but I had to admit, the snug fit wasn't that uncomfortable. In fact, the soft cotton felt nice, much softer than the rougher cotton in my boxers, and when I pulled the jeans on, you couldn't tell what I was wearing under them, anyway. Just another adventure, I smiled to myself.

Maggie approved, handing me a soft shiny tank top looking thing and a flannel shirt that buttoned from the wrong side. I let out a massive sigh as I accepted her offering, and she laughed at the soft moan that followed my sigh as the satin camisole slid down my chest. The shirt actually fit a little loose, which made sense. Where I was lean and taught, Belle was definitely buff, especially for a girl, and her breasts, well, yeah, definitely a girl.

"What size shoes do you wear?" Maggie seemed pleased at how well everything was fitting.

"Eight and a half."

Maggie gave me a pair of well-worn lace-up boots. They fit, too. The last piece was a Carhartt jacket, just like the one Ben had been wearing.

I guess Belle and I were the same size. I laughed to myself at the realization that the only thing I wasn't wearing was one of her bras, and there was no way I would ever fill one of them out.

"Go on downstairs. Ben wants to show you your chores. You're welcome to stay, but everybody does chores. You can stay in the guest room down the hall. That bath is common between Belle's room and that one. Wear what you need from Belle's things, I guess, and leave those boots by the back door when you come back in."

Just like when she told Ben and me to wash up for dinner, the only answer was, "Yes, ma'am."

Cowboy was Belle's gelding Bay. Lady was Ben's Roan mare from when he competed in team roping. My job was to feed them and clean their stalls once before breakfast, and a second time before dinner. I'd spend the rest of the day helping Ben with whatever needed doing. Lady was a sweetheart. Cowboy had a bit of an attitude that I was pretty sure reflected his rider's personality. If Belle came home for Christmas, I'd find out.

Just like loading and unloading the hay, Ben and I worked together like we'd been doing it for years. Tomorrow morning before breakfast, I'd get to do it all by myself.

I remembered to leave the boots by the backdoor and went straight upstairs to take a shower. It had been a long day, and all I wanted to do was chill for a while and go to bed. I had a feeling tomorrow was going to be just as long, maybe longer.

The bathroom was in between Belle's room and the guest room I would sleep in, so I didn't have to worry about roaming the hall naked. Maggie had raided Belle's dresser and left a pile of clothes on my bed. Jeans, shirts, and socks, more of those camisole things as well, and a pile of panties in various colors, even a few different styles and fabrics. What caught my eye, though, was the selection of nightgowns, a few flannels, and one or two made from the same silky material as the camisole she had given me to wear.

I laughed out loud, thinking about all the barriers Maggie was pushing. But again, it was just another adventure, and the alternative was going to be wearing my riding clothes every day, and that wasn't going to work.

In the drawer I loaded the panties into, I found a single white bra that appeared to have some modest padding. Maybe Belle had worn it when she was younger. Who knew? I just smiled and went about putting things away, letting the softer satin and lace panties slip through my fingers, smiling to myself as they fell into the drawer.

"Fuck, Maggie." I mumbled under my breath. "What the hell?"

I thought about the way Maggie had been looking at me over dinner as I moved my hair back behind my ears to keep it out of my food, and the way she had said 'boys' when she told Ben and me to go wash up for dinner. Maybe I should have protested a little when she suggested I wear Belle's things. Clueless about what was going through Maggie's mind, I just put everything away, stripped off the clothes I had on, and went to take that shower.

The floral scents of the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were refreshing, and the hot water flushed the stress from my body as I soaked under the steaming spray. After drying myself off, I borrowed a hair dryer I found under the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Lean and taut muscle rippled just under my skin. I wasn't buff like a lot of guys. I was what I called toned and was stronger than I looked with a nice tight six pack decorating my smooth stomach.

Wiry was the word my dad always used to describe me when I complained about how thin I was. Of course, he also joked about my legs and my butt, which may have been my best features.

I scrounged around and found a hair tie, putting my long red hair into a loose ponytail, and used the remnants of a tube of Secret Belle had left behind to do my pits. The subtle lavender scent mixed with the floral bouquet of the hair products. But what the hell, beggars can't be choosers, right?

Maybe I was tired, or it was the long day and the hot shower. Maybe it was the subtle aromas filling my head or the soft colors and fabrics teasing my fingers when I opened the drawer I had put the panties in. Who knows what it was but instead of the white cotton panties I had set on top of the pile, I pulled a pair of light blue satin and lace panties from near the bottom of the pile and slipped them up my legs, closing my eyes and moaning softly as they teased their way up to my crotch, shuddering just a little as the soft material caressed my jewels and sighing audibly as the lace trim kissed my butt cheeks when I ran my hands over the delicate fabric.

"Holy fuck." I whispered. This felt too good.

The satin nightgown would have been too much, so I chose the blue flannel one and went back downstairs to tell Ben and Maggie goodnight. Neither of them said a word when they saw me. Seriously, my other choice would have been to come down wearing just the panties, or naked, and I didn't think any of us wanted to see that, especially me considering the raging erection I was hiding under the nightgown.

"You might want to take a look at this." Ben pointed to the weather forecast currently playing on the TV. The meteorologist was talking about a massive low-pressure system that was pumping copious amounts of wet gulf air into the freezing artic air that had screamed down the plains yesterday dumping inch after inch of snow from The Dakotas to Texas. This was more than a hundred-year storm. It was unprecedented, and another cold front was already on its way.