Storiesonline.net ------- Life's a Bitch by cmsix Copyright© 2007 by cmsix ------- Description: In his later years Chuck liked to act like a survivalist, sort of. What he wouldn't give to be able to actually be one. Codes: MF ScFi TimeTr cons ------- ------- Chapter 1 Or is it? Or do we just make our own lives a bitch? I did, and it wasn't really a bitch, it just wasn't all I'd hoped for. Thinking of that, why wasn't it? I didn't really have to do anything I didn't want to. I'm not rich, and in the normal way people understand the phrase, I'm not even comfortable. But in my view I am. I just don't have much money, and I don't even mind that lack. I have enough for most of what I want to buy, or most of what I want anyway. My parents were well off by the standards of their community, a small East Texas town. My father had a retail department store, and then some. It was by far the biggest business in town and he was one of the big fish in an admittedly small pond. Life pulled a dirty trick, or some dirty tricks on him at the last though. He let his business get too big for him to handle alone and it became unprofitable. It was large enough, and a regular payout from the large land sale after his father's death was substantial and so the business took a long time to decline. In other words, things didn't go to shit at once; the money just ran out slowly, not leaving his kids much. It didn't leave them with nothing, but what they got and kept getting wasn't enough to support them in the style they'd become accustomed to. A weird malfunction of my mother's reproductive system had also wreaked havoc on the family, but in a subtle way. It fucked up our birth order. If you don't believe that birth order has anything to do with the way children grow up and develop, maybe you should only skim over the next few paragraphs. For the rest of you: My sister was born and a year later a tuber nearly killed my mother, and in the early nineteen forties the damage it did was not to be righted by the doctors of the time. After mother was past the danger of dying, she was informed that she wouldn't be able to have more children. Time flew since they were no doubt having fun, but eight years later they considered my beginnings a miracle. I have no way of knowing what caused her to think it, but my mother always told me that she carried me for eleven months. I never doubted her, because there was no way to prove it one way or the other, and she had recovered from putative sterility on her own. Lo and behold she'd made a first class recovery when she did, and popped out a brother for me less than two years later and then another, less than two years after that. I don't know if the repairs broke down after that or if my parents quit fucking or what, but that was it. So we now effectively have a daughter that is the only child, but with three brothers. We have two firstborn, since my miracle birth was nine years after my sister's and the pregnancy was completely unexpected. By the time my next brother came along he was toast. He wasn't a miracle, and with the one after him he became an effective middle child. Only my youngest brother escaped for a semi-normal life. Babies were old hat by the time he got here and wonder of wonders he was essentially healthy. My first brother and I were asthmatics from birth and at the time it was a fairly rare malady, no doubt because the medical progress to keep asthmatics from dying young was recent. All in all a normal family life was out of the question. I don't know what it did to me, I just know how I seem to have turned out, and at this late date all I can say about it I'll limit to my personal situation. I'm old, relatively healthy, unemployed by choice and not what most would call particularly honest. If my honesty is merely situational it has a strange way demonstrating that, since I find it nearly impossible to lie for economic gain. Earlier in life I found it nearly impossible to lie for pussy too, and I still think of that as my most distressing failure. Enough with making you listen to my introspection. With the demise of my father's empire and of my marriage, I ended up with an acre of land, given to me by an uncle who had thousands and who didn't really like me. After his death I figured that he gave me the acre out of guilt from knowing what his will actually said and what he had assured my father it did. I must say that he pulled one hell of a stunt that he realized he wouldn't have to suffer the fallout from. Even though he felt he'd been stabbed in the back, my father eventually found it funny because my uncle had also done his best legally to cut his wife out of the will too. There I go drifting back in to fond reminiscence. I'm still here on my little acre, right on the edge of more than twelve thousand others that are devoted to raising yellow pines for lumber. I have a nice little house, frame construction of the finest, and small. I did say it was little didn't I? It does have electricity and butane and it uses damned little of either. Did I mention that I managed my father's lumberyard before it became insolvent? My little house, not even as large as a doublewide, used more lumber in its construction than a six-bedroom giant. The outer stud walls use two by eights and are on eight-inch centers. The rafters and ceiling joist are two by twelve on the same eight-inch centers and no plywood sheeting need apply. There's two by six center match between me and the cold cruel world, with three hundred pound per square fireproof shingles to turn the weather, and number one seventeen, my favorite pattern, pine siding to dress things up. If you don't understand about the construction details, tough shit. I also have damned few windows and a hell of a lot of insulation. Two by twelve ceiling joist and two by eight stud walls leave a lot of room for insulation. Since I'm a forest products kind of guy, the insulation is the blown in wood fiber type that has been treated to be fire resistant. The few windows I did allow were all triple pane glazed and there are double-pane glazed storm windows over them, and both my doors, front and back, were bought made into the latest energy efficient door units. The ones with refrigerator type magnetic weather striping that seals itself to the metal skinned door when it closes. I watched every second of the construction, and the main carpenter, who'd worked for daddy for years, griped the whole time about using silicone gel for caulking and about using it everywhere there was a crack. With the doors and windows closed, I can't feel a bit of breeze from outside unless the tornado is within a mile of me. I know it was a little extreme, and I can't remember what got me off into such weirdness, but the first complaint from the carpenter - who shall remain nameless to protect his innocence - about the plans I'd drawn and the specifications I'd written caused me to raise my hackles and it was my way or my way after that. He couldn't even quit. I could go on and on about rosin coated screw nails and water source heat pumps but I won't. I think I had the most indestructible frame construction structure ever built for a residence and I won't be gainsayed. At the moment it was all for naught, since I was camping out. More like I was playing survivalist really. I didn't work so I had time on my hands and there was only so much time I could spend admiring my house, since it was already built. Many times when I went camping I rode my horse and led my pack mule but tonight I was on a solo mission. I had my pack stuffed with essentials and frankly, I'd had hell under the weight all day. I made a note to self in my mind to do more foot powered camping and less horse and mule camping. What I usually did on my three or four day ankle express expeditions was play beast of burden for a mile or so into the timber, set up a modest camp and then try to wear out my Buckmaster or my Glock, killing everything that wasn't moving. When I allowed myself the luxury of my horse and mule, I also blistered the pinecones with my Marlin 336c in 35 Remington, my Colt Diamondback in 38 Special or my Thompson Center Contender in 7mm TCU. But I'd been too lazy to reload any ammunition lately, so I was off on foot with my 22 Long Rifle and my Glock. Mostly I'd be giving the Buckmaster a workout because, lets face it, 22 rounds are dirt cheap, more bang for the buck and all that. Even on twelve thousand acres I had limited locations available for a proper camp, especially when packing my own freight. This was yellow pine timber after all, and pine campfires aren't worth shit, unless you're dying from the cold. I had to hike somewhere that had a few hardwoods around so there'd be enough squaw wood to make a showing at the fire. I made my destination and set that heavy pack down. I'd used this spot plenty of times before and a few things that make a comfortable camp were already done. I had a circle of stones to build my fire in and last year I'd left a grate for cooking, and of course I had a nice spot roughly leveled to pitch my tent. Deciding to get set up before sitting down, I pitched said tent. It was sort of like an army two man job; a pup tent most would call it. Next was blowing up my airbed. I know, I know, that really isn't giving myself a chance to enjoy the full benefits of camping, such as waking up sore from sleeping on the hard ground. I'll have you know that I tried one of each type of airbed in any Wal-Mart within a hundred miles of home. This one fit perfectly in my pup tent and when inflated it fit snugly against all the tent's inner walls. Not only was it comfortable, it kept me from having to carry extra blankets to sleep on. Yes, Virginia, it's true. I know you've all heard that when you're sleeping on the ground you should put more blankets below you than over you, to keep the cold cold ground from freezing your ass during the night. Well all the ugly rumors are true, but if you use an airbed you don't have to bother about such. Besides, I didn't like waking up with sore spots. I gathered some squaw wood and started a fire then, but not for warmth. Autumn in East Texas is not cold weather time, in fact it was barely cool enough to keep me from working up a sweat hiking out. I wanted the fire to warm supper. After it was down to good coals, I put my grate across the strategically placed rocks, put my camping saucepan on the grate and poured in a can of Ranch Style Beans and a can of Wolf Brand Chili. As it was warming I put my small skillet beside it and scrambled three eggs. It's a pain in the ass to carry eggs while hiking. You have to buy a special hard plastic egg crate or you'll end up with a mess in your pack. I had one of the crates though, and I guess I packed eggs just for my masochistic pleasure. After all, there's always the chance you'll stumble and fall and break the eggs anyway. Alas, no bread with my supper. If I'd been riding, I'd have brought my Dutch oven and a few of those biscuits tubes from the dairy case, you know - the ones you hit against something and they pop open - but I wasn't riding so I hadn't brought the biscuit makings. It wasn't the actual biscuits that killed the deal; a Dutch oven is heavy, and I was walking, remember? The sun was heading down by the time I'd eaten and cleaned up, so I unrolled my sleeping bag and got out of my clothes. Don't worry, I wasn't about to ruin my high dollar double size arctic sleeping bag. If you eat beans practically every day, like I do, they don't make you fart much at all, and I'm not silly enough to sleep without wearing my boxer briefs, just in case. The arctic bag was overkill and I usually went to sleep with the top off to the side, pulling it over me in the night if I got cold. The Internet had informed me that mid fifties was the coldest I could possibly expect and that high fifties or low sixties were more likely. Chances were that I'd never even notice. When I woke for a second, probably after midnight, and pulled the bag's top over me I didn't even think about it. It did occur to me that it sure seemed like it was colder than I'd been led to believe it would be. It didn't really disturb my sleep though. My watch told me it was five fifteen AM when I finally woke to get up. I didn't do it right away though, the sun wouldn't be up for an hour or more and dammit, no matter what the Internet thought, it was cold. It had seemed silly when I packed my Carhardts, a Pendelton shirt, and brought along a down jacket, but they were light, mostly, and I had. As I lay in my sleeping bag, I was glad I had and was also dreading having to get out and to my pack to find them after I dressed. I knew they were down at the bottom in the probably won't need this trip part of my pack, with my wool socks. When the sun was up, I dressed for my trip to my pack and then got up and out. What the fuck, it was snowing and my first footprint showed me that there were already about two inches on the ground. I grabbed my pack, carried it in the tent and then sat down. This was impossible. In this part of Texas it snowed in February, about two or three inches usually, every third or forth year. It did not snow in late October, any inches, ever. How could the Internet have been so wrong? Had nuclear winter come up overnight, without the bombs? But there was snow out there and it was cold and I had to deal with the facts on the ground. My pack had to be unpacked, completely, to get at my warmer clothes. After only a few seconds consideration I striped back down to my briefs and put on my Browning knit long-underwear and worked my way out. I didn't just put on my warmest clothes, I put on all my clothes, even changing to my insulated boots, they were half a size larger, so I could wear my cotton and wool socks at the same time. The only thing I didn't put on was my two-piece rain suit. Back outside, I looked around and forgot completely about the snow. These were not the same woods I'd gone to bed in. "How could you tell?" you might ask, "Trees are trees." Trees might be trees to you, but these were not the trees that I had gone to bed among, one time professional lumberman that I was I could tell the difference. I'd camped in a scattering of maybe twenty to twenty-five oaks and probably five or six hickories. None of them more than twenty-four inches in diameter. From where I stood now I could easily see at least a hundred oaks and probably fifty hickories. They were so numerous that I could barely see any of the ubiquitous southern yellow pines that made up the majority of the timber in East Texas. That was only the first clue. These oaks and hickories were all at least three feet in diameter and some even larger. The squaw wood I'd had to scrounge for last night was now apparent everywhere, not even covered by the, impossible to be falling snow, yet. And the pines. Even from this distance, the pines I could see were giants, some of them looked to be probably five feet in diameter. There hadn't been any pines like that in Texas, anywhere, for a hundred years. Something was dreadfully wrong and I didn't even feel a deep burning pain in my side. The only preparation for something like this that I'd ever had in my life was the old TV series "The Twilight Zone." What do you do when you wake up and face a situation that is completely impossible? I didn't need to shit and I didn't want to go blind. I built my fire again to cook breakfast. I wasn't worried about my beans or chili but I did fear for my eggs. I guess it hadn't been cold enough long enough to freeze them, but that wouldn't last. I scrambled six this morning and mixed them into the can of beans and the can of chili I warmed up, cursing bitterly now over the lack of biscuits. After I'd eaten and cleaned up I packed my things, having already decided to cut this excursion short. My survivalist fantasy was shot to shit since it had become too damned near real for my taste. I packed up all my things, even taking the grate, the round point shovel and the yard broom that were here when I arrived. Backyard wanderer that I'd become, I had the same sort of permanent equipment scattered around at five or six little campsites. I took these back with me this time though, just in case. I didn't know what was happening, but I was worried. I was going back home and I intended to give the Internet a piece of my mind for this travesty of weather forecasting, but all during the packing I wondered if my home would be where I'd left it. It wasn't. My home wasn't there, my small barn wasn't there, the fence that kept my horse and mule penned up wasn't there and neither were my horse and mule. My garage with my 1976 Chevy half-ton four-wheel drive pickup was absent and so was the workshop and the little shed that I built specifically as a smithy so I could shoe my own horse and mule. Of course I'd only done it three times myself, but still, it was mine. My DirectTV/DirectPC satellite dish wasn't there, and neither was my five hundred gallon butane tank nor my deep, tube, water well. Nothing was there, except more of the impossibly huge trees, all of them pine in this particular area. Even though the woods around were changed, I knew I was at the right place. There'd been a small cave type opening in a nearby hillside and it was still there. Too damned bad it wasn't big enough to stay in. I was worried now. Of course I would set off for the nearest little town, but with nothing at all, except for the hole in the hill, looking familiar - what was the chance the town would be there? It wasn't really a town anyway. Just a crossroads gas station and store that didn't even sell gas anymore, and was only open sporadically to sell the few grocery items it kept now. My first destination was my uncle's house, the uncle that didn't care much for me. Of course he was long dead, but the house his wife had nagged him into building when he was old enough to know better, Sunning Hill she'd named it, it was still there. Or it had been two days ago. Probably a mile and a half later I saw that while the hill was still there, though not like it had looked the last time I'd seen it, Sunning Hill - the house - was not around. I walked to the top of it and the T&P Lake that had been behind it wasn't there either. The T&P Lake had been made by damming a good stream that was still there. It had been made as a Mill Pond for the big sawmill my grandfather and his brother had built in the late eighteen hundreds. The lake was gone. Luckily for me, when I'd taken up camping as a job I'd learned how to really use a compass. It was a Boy Scout model, in fact, and I knew how to find where the small town was. It was a damned good thing too, because along with everything else that wasn't here, Farm Road 248 wasn't here either. I knew the town was about three miles from Sunning Hill, "as the crow flies" like they always say. I wasn't riding on crows but I knew I could go basically straight over the countryside. Especially with the lake absent. The railroad tracks were also absent, but they'd run pretty much straight to the town and railroads usually took the path of least resistance when they could. As I'd expected the little town was nowhere to be seen. My next trick was eight miles nearly due north, my original hometown. I didn't really expect it to be there either, but it had been older than this tiny town and maybe that made a difference. At any rate, I was walked out for the day. I found a few hardwoods, gathered some wood and built a fire. When I discovered that my eggs hadn't frozen after all, I declined chili tonight and had a can of beans and scrambled the rest of my eggs, mixing them together. After I'd eaten I put up my tent, pumped up my airbed and got in. I brought everything into the tent except for the yard broom, the shovel and the grate. I even brought my axe and hatchet in, but I was so tired by that time that I may not have had a good reason to. Breakfast was chili the next morning. I didn't even put it in my saucepan to heat it up. I opened the can, and after the fire was down to coals, I set the can near it. It was warm when I spooned it out and I didn't have to bother with cleaning anything up. By now I was tired of lugging the shovel, rake and fire grate with me, but I wasn't about to leave them anywhere. If I never found anything like a town or other people they would come in handy. The weight wasn't really a problem either, since my pack's contents had been diminishing by a couple of cans of chili and beans a day, and the eggs were all inside me now. They'd probably be back outside me in a few hours. If I didn't find my way out of this to somewhere, I'd be out of chili and beans in two more days and I'd have nothing left to eat except a few granola bars. Packing things up, I headed north; while I walked I tried to think of what I'd eat when the chili and beans were gone. Meat looked like it would be easy to come by. I'd seen plenty of deer and a lot more squirrels. I hadn't even had to look for them. They seemed to be almost everywhere and they weren't as shy of me as they should have been. They weren't coming up and begging for treats or anything, but if I didn't try to get close they didn't panic. As far as killing them for food was concerned it wouldn't be a problem. I'd been headed out to burn gunpowder in the first place. I had three bricks of 22 Long Rifle cartridges, fifteen hundred rounds, and a few in the rifle. For the Glock I'd brought six boxes of fifty and twenty in the weapon. Of course a Glock was not an ideal weapon to take whitetail deer, but the Buckmaster was. I know that modern he-man hunters want to blast them with 7mm Remington Magnums and such, but a head shot with a 22 Long Rifle will down a whitetail almost every time. It isn't a legal weapon for them anywhere that I know of, but right about now I'd welcome being arrested by a Texas Fish and Wildlife officer. I had a Redfield 4x12 variable big bore rifle type scope on my Buckmaster, and taking a whitetail with a head shot from a hundred yards or closer wasn't going to be a problem, especially with the numbers of them I'd been seeing. I wasn't worried about meat, but I was nearly completely ignorant about anything else I might be able to find that was edible. I knew poke salad when I saw it, and I even knew to parboil it first to keep from poisoning myself. Trouble was, I didn't like it, and I've eaten many good cooks' rendition. I could eat it if I had to though, but there wouldn't even be any for months. You'd think a fantasy survivalist like myself would have studied the edible plants available in his area, but there you go, or here I was. Thankfully it didn't look like I was going to have trouble finding the "Wild Hickory Nuts" that Euell Gibbons raved about, and I even knew how to crush up acorns and leech the bitter out of them, but still. Where in hell was I going to find a chicken fried steak if I couldn't locate a town. I wouldn't miss Big Macs or Taco Bell Burritos but I was going to miss real food. The bare truth was, though I hate to admit it, I don't even like venison that much. There, I've said it. It's a bother to keep the wild taste out and it is usually tough as boot leather if you don't pamper it while cooking. I didn't think that roasting it over an open fire on a stick was going to do it all that much good, and I knew it would be rough out of a skillet or a saucepan, since I had practically nothing to season it with. My salt supply was under half a pound and pepper was one small can. And so I grumbled and groused my way toward the site of my hometown. I was sure I'd found it when I came to Black Bayou, or its floodplain rather. I could see the bayou but I didn't see any point in trying to cross it. The bridge on Highway 43 wasn't there, probably because Highway 43 wasn't there. I could get across the Bayou if I had to, but why bother? It was apparent that there was no sign of life anywhere in sight, except for wildlife. At least I recalled fishing as a way to get food when I saw the bayou. I could remember seeing people fishing in it pretty much all my life. That made me remember I didn't have any fishing tackle because I didn't like to fish. I don't think I had one fish hook, and I knew I didn't have any line. Well, I'd left several bean and chili cans where they lay behind me, it wouldn't be impossible to make a hook from the metal with my hatchet. Cutting a fishing pole wouldn't require over twenty seconds. I'd think up something for the line. I just turned around before I even got my feet muddy and headed back in my tracks. The snow had been falling on and off since I first woke yesterday morning and found it. My tracks were apparent and I could be sure to find the places I'd camped and easily retrieve my cans. About an hour later I gave the trip up as a bad job for today. I'd come probably seven miles from where I stopped last night and I was tired. Walking seven miles on a flat surface like a road is one thing, but moving seven miles through the woods is something else. I'd been happy to know that my tracks in the snow would lead me right back the way I'd come, but they wouldn't. By the time I'd made a mile in my reversed course I could already tell that snow was filling my tracks, and even if I kept on until dark I wouldn't make it back. I'd just have to hope I could find the place again. One thing was plain to me now. I was getting to live my fantasy of survival; it wasn't an idle dream anymore. Funny, I wasn't enjoying it as much as I'd thought I would. One can of chili tonight and one more for later. There were still three cans of beans left. If I cut back I could go five more days before I had to get some food on my own. I wasn't really worried though. The next morning I had beans for breakfast and saw that the snow had stopped. It must have done it not long after I went to bed. I warmed up a can of beans, ate them, packed up - packing the empty cans and their lids this time - and set off. The end of the snowing had come in time to leave me enough of my tracks to find my earlier camp. I picked up the cans and lids and kept on trucking. By trying to pick up the pace a little I was back to my home site, or former home site, or maybe even future home site with all cans accounted for by sundown. The only cans I was missing now were the ones I'd left at the site I was using when the shit hit the fan, and I could find them easily tomorrow, tracks or no tracks. Settling in for the night after my last can of chili, I wondered what in the hell could possibly have happened until I fell asleep. Sometime during the night I had a dream, it was the first one I could remember since the snow and it was only four numerals, black on a white background. It was nothing like my normal dreams, since I wasn't even in it. It was just a white background with 1309 on it in black numerals. The next morning I knew that I was where I'd always been, area wise, and that the year was 1309. Of course I could be wrong but I didn't think I was. Something, or someone, had moved me and a very few of my possessions back in time. That was clearly impossible but so was my situation. The evidence all supported the thought. This was still East Texas but there was no one here. There might be a few Caddo Indians, but if my memory was right there couldn't be but a few, maybe straying this far west to hunt or something. If it was 1309 I was in for a long lonesome life, if it was long that is. I was already nearing sixty and it was plain that I wouldn't be finding any medical help if something went wrong. Oh well, that was something I needn't worry about, since there was not one fucking thing I could do about it. I got up, dressed, and warmed a can of beans. I didn't bother taking down my tent but I did put my pack on. I'd used the shovel to dig a shallow hole for my saved cans and then wrestled a big iron ore rock over it as cover. It would piss me off if some little animal ran off with them to lick the insides clean. All I carried in my hands was the Buckmaster. I found my first campsite with no trouble and my empty cans were undisturbed. Of course I'd washed them out before discarding them, so there wouldn't have been any attraction. That's probably what I should have done with those back at my old home site instead of fucking with a hole and a big rock. With the cans in my possession I started back, but decided to check on one of my other usual camping places. I was delighted when I found it. The rake, shovel, and the two-pound sledge I'd left there were still present, though the tree they'd been leaned against wasn't. There was a hell of a lot bigger tree about ten feet away though. With hope in my heart I headed for the place I usually cut my firewood for the small wood heater that had been in my home. The bunch of small hardwoods probably weren't there but I'd left a few things there too. No matter about that, the double bit axe, splitting maul, ten pound sledge and four wedges I kept there in a four foot long box made of two by twelves were still there, looking exactly like they had when I'd seen them last August. It was just too damned bad that I hadn't left my chain saw with them. I could distinctly remember thinking about doing just that. I had two more small tool caches but I didn't head for them. Getting this damned box back was going to be a bitch. At least I'd put a stout rope handle in each end when I made it. It was trouble enough carrying it up on my back by the handle and trying to carry the Buckmaster in the other. With several rest stops it took nearly four hours to get home and I'd had to leave the shovels and rakes where the box had been. When I got back to my home site, I moved the rock, retrieved the empty cans, replaced the rock and walked to the nearby stream, my water supply now, and washed out the cans. After they were dry I put them in the box with everything else that would fit and put three heavy, if a lot smaller than the other one, rocks on it. Supper that night was my last can of Wolf Brand Chili. I had five granola bars for tomorrow and I was going to have to kill something or starve. Mostly out of food or not, the next morning I headed back for the other tools that I hoped were still there. They were, not only the ones I'd left at the box's site, but the other's too. I was especially happy to find the ballpean hammer and thousand yard roll of small nylon cord that I'd forgotten about leaving. I knew about the mattock and the ditch bank blade but I was happy to have them too. I was back, with everything, three hours before sunset. I'd limited myself to three granola bars during the day. I had two for tomorrow and that was it, except for the vitamin pills and Bayer aspirin in my first aid kit. I wasn't going to start any hunting trip this late in the day, but I did dig out my laundry bag and go for some of Euell's best. The squirrels had done a number on them but I still found about ten pounds or so pretty easily. Of course with ten pounds of nuts there isn't so much nutmeat. They were enough to keep my stomach from singing though, but Euell had praised them way too highly to my way of thinking. Still, I was beginning to think that I might be able to survive after all. Meat wasn't a problem and hickory nuts weren't the only kind around here. There were walnuts and even pecans, even if they were only wild pecans and nothing like the hybrids you probably think of when and if you think of pecans. I thought I also remembered that corn was native to North America but I was pretty hazy on those details. I knew there must be other edible plants besides poke salad, but I didn't know which ones were which, what they looked like or where, specifically, in North America they were. I'd probably have a long time to find out. The next morning, with everything put away that I was going to put away and after eating my last two granola bars, I went hunting. It was anticlimactic actually. I walked about three hundred yards from my camp, sat on a big rock that an even bigger tree was growing against and waited. Within an hour I saw a buck strolling through, nibbling on the occasional acorn and snacking on a tuft of grass here and there and every now and then he'd see a bush he thought looked tasty and stop to browse a few leaves. Maybe a hundred and fifty yard in his wake three does were doing generally the same and there were three fawns trailing them. The fawns were not small, they were from this past spring but the pickings had been good to them. They were nearly plump and they looked tasty. I raised the Buckmaster and looked through the Redfield, not at the buck, but at the biggest doe. I let her have it, right in the head, while she was nibbling on one of the tufts of grass the buck had bypassed. The rest of them were alarmed at once, but they didn't spot me. All the same they raised the flag they're named for in a couple of seconds and made their escape. I didn't intend to kill more than one anyway. They'd all run off, except for the one I'd shot of course, and I was still sitting still to make sure she was dead and wouldn't jump up after she gathered her senses like I'd seen several head shot deer do when they're hit with a 22 and the shot isn't as good as the hunter thought. Her fawn came back not two minutes later, looking for her. What the hell, I didn't need that much meat right now but it couldn't hurt anything. I took the fawn too and congratulated myself because I figured its meat would be more tender. I had to tie my only length of nylon rope around a neck at each end and then pulled the center up to my waist and drag them back home. I cursed much of the way, but got over it. Without enough rope, I had to hang and gut them one at a time. I started to just throw away the hearts, livers and kidneys but I had a sheet of visqueen folded up in my pack, about eight by ten, and so I kept the organs that were possibly edible. After they were both field dressed, I started in skinning the doe. I missed my pickup awfully during this trying time. Here to fore, on the occasions I'd skinned deer, I'd peeled enough of the neck for a good flap and tied a smooth rock in it. After removing the feet and tracing along the legs and down the underbody and removing the tail, I'd chain the front legs to a tree and attach the rope that was tying the rock into the neck skin to my pickup's winch line and then peel the whole hide off without any sweat. I was back to the old fashioned way now, pulling, and pulling, and pulling, and then pulling some more. My hands and arms were sore by the time the deer were naked, and I still had to cut them up. Cutting up a carcass with only a hatchet and a good sharp knife or two isn't all the fun you might think. I settled for quartering the doe and cutting the fawn into easily cookable sizes. I wished a lot for my big cast iron kettle that I could have made a fine stew in, but it was two forked sticks and one long one and a roasting we shall go for me. At least I'd found a hickory deadfall that had some limbs small enough to cut and break up for the fire and its smoke did give the fawn a pretty good flavor. The custom made welded smoker, made from a hundred and fifty gallon butane tank, that had been sitting right beside my garage would have done much better but if wishes could bring me things I'd wish for my horse and my mule; not necessarily in that order. I knew I couldn't sleep tonight, because if I did my meat would be gone tomorrow, no doubt. I dragged up firewood until it got dark and kept two fires going all night to keep the scavengers away. The only part of the deer or fawn that I didn't hang on a handy branch was the leg quarter I'd roasted. I still killed two coyotes, a wolf, a weasel and a badger during the night. I'm sure I would have dropped off to sleep if I hadn't made a pot of coffee out of my ever so precious but short supply. Since this deal went down I had resisted the temptation, but I needed it tonight. I hated to think what I was going to do when I needed some after it ran out. I only had part of a one-pound can. After the sun came back I had a minor brainstorm, thankfully it didn't do any damage. The almost cave that I'd used to make sure of my location could serve as a storage place for my meat at night if I could block up the front. It shouldn't be too hard. I'd always thought of it as a cave because the entrance wasn't nearly as big as the rest of it, but that wasn't saying much. The entrance was roughly thirty inches in diameter and crudely almost round. It made the world's shortest tunnel, all two feet of it, back to a small room that was about four feet wide by three feet deep and a surprising five feet high, more or less. The gist of it was that I only had to cover about a three-foot entrance. My first step was cleaning it out with one of my two yard brooms. Door material was next. The big rock would have been perfect but it wasn't quite large enough and would fall over. I hoped I could find one that was large enough later, but for now I went to where the pines were encroaching on the hardwoods and found two pines that were about ten inches in diameter. Even with the double bit axe they were a job to get down. I tried not to think of the Stihl 880 chainsaw that was in my garage. The pines were too damned heavy to drag up whole, so I started at the big ends and cut them into four-foot sections. An hour later I had four pieces and carried them to the cave. I fucked with them until I had them stacked on top of each other and they did close the cave completely. I spent the rest of the day, except for the time I spent dining on Bambi, finding large rocks to pile up against the cave's "door." Tomorrow I'd try to figure out something better. I had made one wonderful discovery while looking for big rocks. I found a really odd one that was nearly buried. I went back to it, shovel in hand, after I felt my food was secured. The thing that made it seem so odd was its fairly smooth and rounded surface. After it was completely unearthed, it was nearly two feet long and about half that wide. Most of it had been buried. Holding my compass near it showed that it was some type of iron or steel and I decided it must be a meteorite, and a nice smooth one at that, numerous regmaglypts would have made it less useful. In my opinion I now had a perfectly serviceable anvil. Getting it back to camp was not very easy but I was still happy to have it. A couple of weeks ago I wouldn't have been impressed with a fairly smooth rock. I piled it on the stack holding my meat locker's door closed. I built a fire again and warmed the last of Bambi's right rear quarter. It was still good, but I'd learned from my roasting. Deer never had much fat on them but Bambi had been better than an adult. Before I roasted any more of him I was going to try trimming off some fat. I would need it when I tried cooking the heart, liver and kidneys. Bacon grease was not available. With diligent work the next morning I was able to cut about half a pound of fat off Bambi's other rear quarter. I set the haunch to roasting and saved the fat in my saucepan. I'd started breakfast a little late so I was forced to cut off slices as they cooked to keep away that hollow feeling. I hadn't stayed up last night to shoot the thieves but I could see they knew where the spoils were even if they couldn't get to them. There were tracks all around my cave's new entrance and there had been more than a little digging going on. Nothing had made any real progress though and I piled more rocks around during the day. I decided that a brace and bit was one of the things I most wished I had. With one I could have bored holes in smaller pines and driven split off hardwood spikes through them and into the bigger door logs and made one solid door. No matter what I got up to, I kept thinking of things I'd had at home that would have made it much easier. It grated when I realized how far away I was, technology wise, from where I had been. And that was just for the simple hand tools. I swear I'd kill for a five and a half point handsaw. Even though I was well on my way to getting set up for survival it seemed I was pretty much losing interest in going on. What was the point? All that I could see ahead was patching up a subsistence living and most of that a pain in the ass. Camping and playing at survivalist had been fun when my life didn't depend on it, and even though I didn't like being around people that much, I could go and find someone to talk to whenever I wanted to. Being stuck here, wherever or whenever it was just didn't do it for me. I mean you can only take so much of giant pine trees before they get to be old hat. Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself but fuck it, I thought I had a right to. I decided to try to just hang on for one more day and see if I felt better tomorrow. I didn't, but I warmed up some meat and ate. I decided to give frying some liver a try and it was about what I'd expected. I got it cooked and then didn't like the taste. I choked it down though and since I was at it I cooked up the rest. Since the fire was still hot I cut up and fried the kidneys too and then the hearts. None of it tasted very good but it was edible and I thought it might have something in it that I needed and wasn't getting from the meat. I remembered my vitamin pills then, fished out the first aid kit and took one. I figured it was grasping at straws but I had to try something. The trouble was I just didn't feel like doing a damned thing. I had actually considered shooting myself in the head with my Glock yesterday. I knew thinking about all the things back at my real home, whenever it was, was getting me down, but I couldn't seem to stop. It was almost like it was gnawing at me. I broke down and made a pot of coffee and made myself forget about what things would be like when it was gone. Finally, I'd had it. I was fucked here and I was tired of it and I didn't want to play anymore. I sat on the short log outside my tent, pulled the Glock and put it to my temple. When I pulled the trigger nothing happened. I was almost sure I had one up the spout, and I jacked the slide to check and sure enough a cartridge ejected and I could see another one slide home. I picked up the one that had come out and looked at it. The primer wasn't dented. Great, somehow I'd fucked up my Glock. I pointed it half assed at a big oak, pulled the trigger again and it bellowed. I couldn't figure that out but it was working now and I put it to my temple and pulled the trigger again. ------- Chapter 2 I woke in my bed, in my house. I could tell because light was coming in through the window, and even though the window wasn't in my bedroom, it was enough light for me to see that I was in my house. Still dressed as I had been when I tried the "Glock shot to the head" trick, I was lying on my own bed. No doubt whoever had fucked with me had given up. I got off the bed, walked to the front door and opened it. It was my house but I still wasn't exactly home. There was a giant pine not forty feet from my front door and it had never been there before, not while my home was anyway. My Glock was back in the holster, so I went to the back door and out. My tent was where I'd left it and I retrieved the Buckmaster, and continued walking around. Everything seemed to be here now. My garage, my barn, my horse, mule, everything. Then again, not quite everything. The pole for my electric service was here with the security light, but there was no line running to it. The line to the house was in place, but the other one, to the REA's service line was gone. My damned satellite dish was where it had always been but I had serious doubts about any reception. A noise I didn't place as being kosher got my attention but after a few seconds I realized that it was my backup generator. I'd cobbled it together from a natural gas burning 3406 Cat engine I'd salvaged from a nursing home when they switched to two newer units. It hadn't been hard to convert it to propane and it worked fine. I just didn't use it much; usually for about an hour or so a month to make sure it was still working and when the power went out from a storm or something. I walked over to check the propane and then I'd probably shut the generator down. I figured I had about three hundred and fifty gallons left and I didn't think I'd be getting any more deliveries unless I was mistaken about my situation. The tank was full. I knew it hadn't been, but how it got full was something I just didn't want to know; I concentrated on being glad it was. I wondered about Jack and Francis then. I'd been gone for more than a week and they weren't standing at the fence chastising me for not feeding them. Maybe they'd given up too. I went into the feed room to put out some hay and oats and got another surprise. I knew I'd had about twenty five bales of coastal for them and maybe two sacks of whole oats and a sack of bran, besides what I'd already poured into the feed barrels. The damned feed barn was now almost completely full of coastal hay, there was more here now than there had been when I'd bought two hundred bales last year. Except for enough walk way for me to pour oats or bran through the wall into Jack's or Francis's trough or put hay in their mangers the rest of the space was piled high with whole oats and bran bags. Ok, I can live with that. I won't even try to understand. I spent an hour walking around to see if everything I'd had was here. It was and more so, if you count the propane and the hay and the feed. Even my damned old Jersey milch cow was here, though I didn't know how in the hell I'd get her freshened up next time if that calf she was carrying now wasn't a bull. When I checked my truck over, I saw that both side tanks that came on it and the two hundred gallon square tank I'd added later in the bed were full too. I'd put in the big tank because I bought all my gas at the wellhead. I knew where there was a casing head drip and it was inconvenient to go fill up any more than I had to, since it had to be done at night when no one was around. At least my spirits were lifted, quite a lot in fact. I took down my tent, and packed everything away where it belonged. Going inside to make sure the freezer and refrigerator weren't running before I shut down the generator showed me another big surprise. I now had two sixteen-foot chest type freezers instead of one, and they were both full. One with beef and pork, the other with frozen vegetables in zip lock bags. There were two refrigerators in the kitchen now too and they were both stocked to the top, including their freezer sections. And it wasn't just one new one, both were new. They were the plainer models, without all that ice through the door shit that I hate, but they were both larger than the one I'd had and each of them had an ice-maker in the freezer section on top. Everything else in the kitchen looked about normal, except for hundreds of cans of Ranch Style Beans and Wolf Brand Chili. My pantry was completely full of them, along with canned corn, green beans, and black-eyed peas. It looked like I was set up for a more convenient exile back in time than I had been, but I still wasn't home. It didn't seem like it mattered so much now though. Turning off all the lights, I went back outside to shut down my generator. Walking back toward the back door I saw another modification that I hadn't noticed before. There was a new metal frame around the outside of my door and it had a big steel door hung from it, and I do mean steel. It was one-inch plate and solid. When closed it was secured by thick pins that slid out into the new frame, a little like a bank vault but not as big and thick. A walk around the house showed me that a similar arrangement had been added to both windows and the front door too. It sure seemed like I could feel secure at night, and that led me to wonder about Jack, Francis and Elsie. I walked out toward their pens and a stroll around them let me know that they had been taken care of too. Their diamond pattern fencing was still there but now the wire size was six gage and the fence was ten feet tall. The wooden post were gone, replaced by what looked like three and five eights upset tubing, without the upsets. There was a stringer all around the upper circumference of the pen and also one every foot. Nothing would be climbing the fence either since it had electric fence wire mounted around the outside of every pipe stringer. To me this was clearly overkill but since I hadn't had to do it, or pay for it, I didn't mind. The pens were much larger now and it seemed odd that there were no trees inside them. I'm sure there had been some in place before my homestead had landed here like an escapee from The Wizard of Oz. That thought made me look at my feet hoping for Ruby slippers but I still had on my cold weather boots. All my outbuildings now had the steel doors and window covers, even the smithy shed that hadn't even had a door before. I went around and closed and locked every one of them after determining that my regular house key worked in all the locks. I might have thought it all a bit strange but after spending time in the past I guess my weirdness detector had pegged out long ago. Mostly I was just happy about it. My pickup was here too and I was glad of that, even though there were no roads to drive it on. Even if there had been roads, two hundred and fifty gallons of gas wouldn't last forever. I might get some use out of it though. With everything else locked up I went in the house and locked both doors and windows. I had separate lights in four places to run off my big batteries that the generator kept charged, so I switched the one in the kitchen on and started supper. I found a New York Strip in one of the new fridge's meat drawers and I turned on the oven to broil it, while I warmed some beans and a can of whole kernel corn. When the steak was done I popped a pan of biscuits in the oven and worked on my meal while they were cooking. My biscuits were done just as I finished eating everything else and I got out the tub of Country Crock margarine to slather them for desert. It was all great and my mood was climbing as time passed. I knew the water pressure wouldn't last long with the generator off, so I wet a washrag and washed my armpits and ass. It would have to do. Thinking about hot water, I went to my water heater's little closet and turned it down to the lowest heat so I could stretch my butane. I'd probably turn it off completely tomorrow but I wanted at least a few showers and the first was going to be tomorrow morning. I was full and felt sleepy so I got undressed and into bed. I didn't know how long I'd been sleeping since my suicide attempt but the sun was going down so with nothing else to do, I slept. Strangely I slept completely through the night and I could see light from the window again when I woke. I headed for the shower. I have to say that it was good to take another one. Showers weren't one of the things I'd been conscious of being without before, but now that I was getting another one I was happy about it. I fried bacon and eggs for breakfast and had some more biscuits too. When you think about it, bacon, eggs, and biscuits seem like a pretty plain meal. When venison roasted on a stick was the alternative, bacon and eggs don't seem so plain. After I'd washed the breakfast dishes I went outside, mostly to make sure everything was still here. I was still having trouble believing my luck. At first I couldn't get over how happy I felt; then I remembered I was still alone. Even though no one had ever accused me of being gregarious, or even easy to get along with, I still liked to talk to other people every now and then, even if only to argue with someone. What the hell, at least I didn't feel like ending it all anymore. Who knew, maybe an Indian maid would show up. I spent most of this day just walking around, looking at my things and being glad I had them in my possession again. After I fixed some lunch and then cleaned things up I started on putting together some firewood. It wasn't that cold outside but I already knew it could get that way without much warning and I didn't want to have to use up my butane heating the house. I'd be using my wood heater for real now. Somehow I actually enjoyed cutting and splitting stove wood. It kept my mind from wandering and it was something that needed doing. Strangely I didn't get too tired while I was at it either. After dark I called a halt and went inside to fix my supper and it was another early night for me. And that's how it went, day after day, and week after week. Pretty soon I stopped wondering what would come next. I had probably ten cords of firewood split and stacked and I'd fixed up every other thing around my place that I could think of fixing up. The worries I'd had about using up my butane when the house first showed up seemed pointless now. By my count the house had been here nearly six months and the tank still said it was full. I'd already quit turning off the generator's engine and right at this moment my central air was cooling the house I'd been worried about keeping warm when it got here. I didn't think that the butane was being replaced by magic, or anything silly like that. I knew that whoever had sent me here and then brought my house had decided that I didn't need to worry about butane and so they kept the tank full. Good bargain for me, whatever the cause of it was. Some other things worked out basically the same. If I went hunting and brought in game, cleaned, and butchered it - there'd be room for it in the freezer. If I didn't do any hunting the freezer stayed full anyway. I didn't know how and I didn't care, I just ate when I was hungry and hunted if I wanted to. Feed for the stock never ran low either. If I emptied a sack of oats into a feed barrel there'd be a full one in its place the next time I came out to feed; ditto for the hay, though I usually used up five or six bales before they were replaced. Elsie's calf had been born and it was a male. It might be the same as incest when he got old enough to breed her, but that wasn't really the point. I didn't even need a viable calf next time; she just had to get pregnant now and again to keep giving milk. If the next one survived it would be a bonus. I'd been doing quite a bit of riding on Jack and leading Francis lately. Camping out again but with a purpose now. I was exploring and looking for sign, sign of anything at all. I hadn't run across any left by Indians. I knew that this was pretty much in the extreme edge of the Caddo's wanderings for the time I was supposed to be here and the eight miles toward my former home town were the longest trip I'd made since I'd arrived. I hadn't planned to go riding today but suddenly I felt almost like I needed to. It wasn't any kind of feeling I'd ever had before but still I knew I should saddle up and go. I just didn't know where I needed to go, or why. ------- Chapter 3 After saddling Jack, I mounted. An urge to go west came over me so I nudged Jack that way with my heels. The day was sunny but not too hot and there was a pleasant breeze to make things even better. Thirty minutes later I saw what my urge had been getting at. A woman, a redhead yet, was stumping around in a small clearing. She was wearing high heels and having more than a little trouble getting around. As I neared, it struck me that she was gorgeous. She was probably five eight and even in her sundress I could see she seemed in excellent physical shape. Her titties were her most remarkable asset, looks wise. They seemed large even from two hundred yards away. "Howdy Ma'am," I said, as I approached. Well, what did you expect me to say? She'd been silent since she'd noticed Jack and I approaching. I'd say she looked stunned speechless. "Hello," she said. "You look lost." "I am, but I don't know how I can be. I just pulled over to the shoulder. I heard a loud pop and the car started vibrating. I thought it was a flat tire so I pulled over. When I got out I fainted, and then woke up here. "Now a flat tire is the least of my worries. I don't even have a car any more. Hell, there isn't even a road. Where did I-35 go?" she asked. I'd been right - she was gorgeous. Her dark auburn hair fell to her shoulders and her eyes were bright green. She had the loveliest full red lips I'd ever seen. "Can you tell me where I am and how I got here?" she asked. "Maybe. Here's what I think happened, if you want to hear it," I said. "Yes yes, do go on," she said, sounding as sarcastic as she possibly could. "I arrived here under some of the same conditions you did, but my situation was a little better. I'd been out camping and I had a firearm with me, two in fact. I also had my tent, some other equipment and some food. "After some initial exploring I determined that I was the only one around and I started trying to survive. I hunted some food, cleaned it, cut it up, cooked it and started eating it. Later I built a small cache that would keep animals away from my food supply and did a few other things to make my life easier. "My attitude deteriorated though and the gist of it is I came to the conclusion that I was stuck here, I was never going to get back and I didn't want to spend years trying to scratch out a living with nothing to work with. I didn't think merely surviving was enough for me, so I put my gun to my head and pulled the trigger. "My first try didn't work, the gun didn't fire. I checked it over and it did work so I tried again. It didn't work that time either but I lost consciousness and woke up in my house, still in this time but now with my house here." "Well what does that mean? Why have I come here?" she asked. "I'm not sure, you understand, but my mood has been slipping lately. Not nearly like it did last time, but in the same general direction. I believe that whoever or whatever brought me here decided they'd bring you and see if it perked me up," I said. "Do you mean I've been shanghaied to serve as your companion?" she asked. "I don't know why you were put here, but I think it was to see if it would improve my performance, shall we say. You weren't necessarily put here to be my companion. I think you were put here to see how I would react to your presence. "You are very much physically attractive to me. I'd even go so far as to say that physically you're my ideal woman," I said. "Let me tell you something. I'm not a rorschach card to be waved in front of a slavering redneck's nose. I'm not about to be manipulated for your amusement," she said. "Ok." "What?" she asked. "I said, ok." "Good, I'm glad that you understand. So now, send me back to where I belong," she said. "Are you completely stupid, or just a little slow on the uptake?" I asked. If looks could kill, I'd be done worrying about all this shit. "There's no need for you to insult me. I'm sure a companion would improve your life, but I'm not the one. I thank you for the compliment but I don't have time for this, so save us both some time and send me back to my proper place. "I don't find you to be physically attractive and I don't intend to wait around to see if you grow on me, and I fail to see why you think you can insult me for it," she said. "Ok, I understand now. You're not stupid; you're just slow to catch on. If I wanted to send you back, which looks more likely than you might imagine, I couldn't. If I had any control in this I'd have sent myself back, six months ago. Do you think I'm staying here because I like it?" I asked. "Well obviously." "Aren't you a modern woman, a self starter, completely in charge of your life?" I asked. "I like to think I am," she said. "Then why are you assuming the man is in control?" I asked. That stumped her for a minute, and the expression on her face went through three or four remarkable changes. "But that's just impossible. How could this happen?" she asked. "That, as they used to say on television, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question." "Be that as it may, I'm not going to be your little playmate." "There are so many things that I want to say right now that it is really difficult to choose which one. "I'll settle for saying that you will if I want you to be. No, that isn't the best way to put it. You don't have any choices sums it up even better I think. "You look to be five foot six or somewhere close. I'm six two. I'd say you weigh one twenty at the very maximum - I weigh two twenty. You probably do a little exercise two or three times a week to stay in shape. I've been here six months, biting and scratching to make a living. "Even if you're an accomplished devotee of some type of martial art, which I don't believe for a minute, if I want to fuck you, I can hold you down and fuck you. Anytime. "There are no police you can call. The only punishment I'd get for the crime is whatever damage you can inflict while it's in progress," I said. "You wouldn't!" "You're probably right, but I don't have to. I can simply ride off and you'll follow me home, if I go slowly enough for you to keep up. "If I wanted to make you, you'd beg for food and promise me anything to get it, but I don't even have to do that. I'm going to help you onto my horse behind me and carry you off into the sunset. Feed you and basically take care of you. "I might let you help around inside the house a little, but it won't be much. I want you to stay beautiful. I don't want my woman to have calluses on her hands and I don't want her fair skin sunburned. "I've only got one bed so you'll have to sleep in it with me, but I won't try to take advantage of that. Sooner or later, and I'm guessing sooner, you'll reach across under the covers to play with my dick and then when you have it good and hard you'll spread your legs and pull me over between them. "Then again, I might get tired of the game and just roll over and fuck you," I said. "None of that will ever happen," she said. "Ok, thanks for the fantasy," I said, nudging Jack with my heels, but making sure he was walking slowly. While I moved away I pictured her in my mind. She really was spectacular, with her deep auburn hair and her impossibly fat titties. That was the exact word for them too, they were fat. She had big firm FAT titties. They weren't grotesquely large, like some of the silicone jobs you see on the Internet, but they were as large as any real ones I'd ever seen. She was going to be my little playmate, as she'd called it, all right - and she could have easily qualified as a Playmate any day. I hadn't seen her legs or her ass yet, but I already knew they'd be great, and I knew I was right. She had to come live with me, or die out in the woods, and I knew she'd figure that out before long. I could hold her down and fuck her anytime I wanted to, and I wasn't sure I wouldn't, but even if I didn't she'd give it up on her own within six weeks at the most. I was all she had. She was in a lot worse shape than I'd been when I got here. She had nothing. Nothing to work with and I was sure she had no idea what to do anyway. She had even less of an idea about what might be edible than I'd had. "Please stop." She called out behind me and I stopped, turning in the saddle to see how far back she was. Not very, maybe a hundred and fifty feet or so. I decided to ride back to her even though making her catch up on foot would have been slightly satisfying. "I'm sorry that I..." "Can it, you don't need to apologize. I know this is confusing and I'm sure it's as hard for you to come to grips with as it was for me. I'm not really trying to be mean to you. "That's a stirrup," I told her, kicking a foot out and leaning over to offer her my hand. "Put your left foot in it and give me your hand. I'll pull you up and you swing your other leg across his back to sit behind me." When she raised her foot for the stirrup, her dress slid about halfway down that thigh and I was right. It looked delicious. She took my hand and I pulled slightly, mostly letting her control the action. I felt her other leg settle across Jack's back and let her hand go. "Have you ever ridden a horse before?" I asked. "No. I don't even think I've ever seen a real one before," she said. "You'll have to hold on around my waist then and you should probably lean against me. I won't be offended and I'll try not to enjoy it too much," I said. "Very funny," she said, without sounding really amused, "Are you taking me back to your cave now?" she asked. "I think I can do a little bit better than a cave for my new playmate," I said, heeling Jack gently again. Her grip around my waist had been half-hearted at best, but Jack's motion firmed it up smartly, and sure enough, I felt her press those beautiful fat titties against my back. After probably fifteen minutes I could tell that she was squirming around behind me. I reined Jack to a stop. "Are you uncomfortable?" I asked. "Not really." "Something is bothering you, I can feel you squirming. Don't be shy, do you need to relieve yourself?" "No, that isn't critical. It's just that this seat isn't the most comfortable, especially on my bare legs," she said. "I guess we should let you sit on the saddle then. I can move back behind the cantle." "Don't you have to drive?" she asked. "I have to control him, but I can do that from where you are. I will have to put my arms around you to hold the reins, but I'll need to anyway to make sure you don't slip off and fall," I said. "How will we do this?" she asked. "First, I'll help you get down, then I'll slide back. Next, I'll help you back up, but this time, don't try to put your leg over. I'll help you turn when you're up here and you can sit sidewise with your back to my right. It won't be as stable a seat, but I'm sure you'll do fine." "I'll be sitting sideways? Is that what they call a sidesaddle?" she asked. "No, a sidesaddle is a torture device women had to endure to keep from showing their legs. It's actually a different kind of saddle and from all I've read it was not nearly as comfortable as you are now." It's always trickier to let someone down from behind you, but we did it without incident, and with only a little more tugging I had her up sitting crossways on the seat. I really didn't mind having my arms around her and now I had a great view of her face, from only inches away. I eased Jack forward again. Her ears were remarkably pretty, or at least the one I could see was. I'd never really looked at a woman's ear before unless I was noticing one that looked strange or misshapen. "You have very nice ears?" I said. "What? Nice ears?" she asked. "Yes, one of them is practically in my face and I noticed that it was very pretty. I usually don't pay any attention to a woman's ears," I said. "Well, I'll have to say that you're the first one who's ever mentioned them," she said, and I know that she was trying to sound stern, but she wasn't doing a good job. "You'll have to admit that everything else about you is so attractive that your pretty ears are probably way down on the list. I hadn't noticed either until it was nearly right in my face," I said. "You're full of compliments all of a sudden, are you trying to butter me up?" she asked. "No, I was just pointing out something I noticed. I'm sure I can't be the first one that ever has, and the butter is probably still weeks into the future," I said. She tensed a little but didn't say anything, and then I noticed a nearly crimson blush rising up around her neck and to her cheeks. I didn't say anything right then either. Twenty-five or so minutes later my house came into sight. When she saw it she pointed frantically and shouted. "There's a house." "I know, that's my cave, as you called it," I said. "But how is it here? You said we were back in time, to 1309." "I told you I don't know how they do it," I said. "They?" "Whoever or whatever did this. I've come to think of them as they. It's just easier," I said, explaining. "How do you expect me to believe this?" she asked. "I don't expect anything. All I can do is tell you what I know. When I first got here the only things I had were what I was carrying. The rest appeared a couple of weeks later while I was unconscious after trying to kill myself." "I just don't believe you," she said. "I don't blame you. I didn't believe it either until I walked all the way to my old hometown, or where it was, or will be later," I said. "What's that supposed to mean?" "If I'm right and this is 1309 or probably 1310 by now, the place I walked to is where my home town will be built later," I said, trying to explain. "But that's crazy, it isn't possible. There's no such thing as time travel," she said. "Well, you've got me there. Tell me what's really going on." She gave me such a look, and I guess I deserved it. Meanwhile Jack had us back to the ranch. I helped her down and dismounted myself, leaving the reins over Jack's neck. I guess he sensed that his services wouldn't be required for a while, so he went over to stand near Francis, who was inside the pen. "I just don't understand," she said. "I don't either, and I've quit trying to. Now I just try to cope." "And they, whoever they are, brought all this back in time for you?" she asked, clearly not believing me. "Yes, they did, but from the looks of things I'd say they've made a few provisions for you lately," I said. She gave me that look again. ------- Chapter 4 "I had the house custom built for me, in my old life. I don't care much for windows. The one you can see on the back wall is new. My guess is that it's right over the sink," I said. Her mouth actually dropped open when she stared at it. I could almost see wheels turning in her head. "You're trying to tell me that it wasn't there this morning when you came looking for me?" she asked, sounding indignant with suspicion. "In the first place, I didn't come looking for you. I just felt a powerful urge to saddle Jack and ride in that direction. I'd never felt anything like it before, but it practically forced me to go. "As far as the window, when I built this house it only had two windows in it. A small one, placed near the top of the inner wall on each end. I wouldn't have put those in except that I wanted to be able to air the place out occasionally," I said. "That's ridiculous in itself. It's like you were trying to build a cave," she said. "You may not believe me, but you're not the first person to ever tell me that. Never the less, it's how I wanted things. I see now that some of my wishes have been countermanded." "You're lying. It's plain to me now that you're lying. I don't know how you did this but I demand that you take me back to Dallas, at once. You have a truck in the garage there and I want you to take me back right now!" she said. "You have no idea how much I wish I could do that for you, because I could drive back home after I dropped you off, but I can't," I said. "And why not?" "If you'll look a little more carefully, you'll see that while I have a perfectly serviceable vehicle, we're missing the little detail of a road," I said. She was crestfallen when she saw I was right. I took this pause to unsaddle Jack and let him in with Francis. As I was doing it I got another powerful urge, that's the only way I can describe it. I felt like I had to bring her over and show her the live stock accommodations, or Jack's and Francis' at least. I knew I was supposed to show her their feeding stalls and how to feed from inside the barn. She was still standing there staring at the house and every now and then looking for a road from my garage. I walked over to her. "My name is, Chuck, by the way," I said. "I am not pleased to meet you, Chuck, not in the least, but my name is Janet," she said. "Well, I am pleased to meet you, Janet, and I need for you to come with me so I can show you a few things," I said. I gave her the tour of the feed barn, put out oats for Jack and Francis and then put more hay in their mangers. I explained everything to her in no little detail. Next we walked around the perimeter of the pens. I showed her what the feeding stalls looked like from the outside and I explained about the electric fence. I even showed her Elsie, Bevo, and their feeding arrangements - we fed them too. The urge faded after I finished with Jack and Francis and it was gone completely after her tour of Elsie's accommodations. "That's all very interesting, but why show me? I don't intend to stay," she said. "I don't know why, I just got another powerful urge to show you all that, specifically," I said. "Now that's something I can understand, because I have a powerful urge to slap your jaws, repeatedly. Thankfully, I'm able to restrain it," she said. I was tired of trying to talk to her, for now at least. I had other suspicions about the house and so I walked around it. She sat in my lawn chair, to sulk I guess. The new window wasn't the only change. The whole damned house seemed bigger, considerably bigger, both longer and wider unless I missed my guess. Of course there were more windows; women just love them. What I usually thought of as the living room wall was almost entirely window now. It was obvious that it didn't open and was actually a picture window, but it did have divided lights, and it's "blast door" as I'd come to call the steel covers, seemed to come up from below, even though I didn't know how. Around at the front I now had a full-length front porch, it looked to be about ten feet wide, and a porch swing was hanging near its end. Another big picture window had been added also. There was another window on the bedroom end of the house too, but it didn't go all the way across. It seemed to coincide with the bedroom, excluding my closet, but including practically the rest of the wall, and it went from very near the floor to very near the ceiling, I could see in and tell that much. I knew I'd be in for a lot more surprises when I got inside. "Are you through walking around your house, trying to convince me that it's all new to you?" she asked. "Yes, I'm through for now, and it isn't all new to me, but a lot of it is. I'll have to say that they do good work," I said, but she wasn't amused. "I'm sure you must be hungry and thirsty. Why don't we go inside and let me fix something to eat?" I asked. "Fine." As we approached the back door I saw that its blast door had changed too, and it apparently came up from the bottom now also. I figured that they probably all did now. They had been pretty ugly the old way. My stomach felt queasy for a second as I thought of what else might have happened inside. It had reason to. The refrigerators were the first thing I noticed, one especially. They were no longer plain, and one of them had side-by-side doors now. It also had a through the door ice and water delivery setup. No doubt it could crush the ice also. All the cabinets and basically everything in the kitchen looked new, and more feminine, and everything seemed to match. The new window was over the sink. The new sink I should say. Now it was a triple basin with an ornate faucet fixture, a sprayer on each side and even one of the extremely hot right this second hot water dispensers. I could go on and on about the cook top being on an island in the middle of the now larger kitchen, or about the genuine used looking butcher block, or the startlingly expensive looking cozy seeming kitchen table with only two chairs, but I won't. It was a magazine kitchen now, the type you see pictures of in the women's magazine advertisements you might find in the doctor's office. I could tell that Janet was impressed, in spite of her determination not to be. Hell, I was impressed. What I'd always called the living room, which I guess could be charitably called a den at best, was vastly improved and feminized too. It was more of a difference in detail than overall style though. It now had furniture that actually looked like it belonged together, even though it had a masculine flavor, except for the rocker. I had never wanted a rocker in my life and had never owned one. Now, beside the overstuffed ranch flavored recliner there was a bentwood wicker rocker. "My rocker! How did it get here? That's my rocker, from home," Janet said, nearly screaming. I just stood there disgusted about acquiring a giant fireplace to replace my wood heater. "This is my rocker," Janet said again, even more emphatically this time. "It looks like a really nice one too," I said, not being able to think of anything else. "And that's my knick-knack shelf too!" she added, pointing to the offending item which was hanging on the wall. It was the biggest fucking knick-knack shelf I'd ever seen, and it was way overloaded. If the house hadn't been built so solidly and on a concrete slab I'm sure one good jump would have vibrated every single damned knick-knack off. The appearance of some of her things had Janet in an exploring mood. She started off down the hall, toward the bedroom, and I followed her. In the bedroom I hardly recognized anything. My first look gave me an even better appreciation of how much my little cabin had grown. In the big middle was a bed even larger than King Size. It was a four-poster and it even had a canopy. Everything was lacy and fluffy. We had a beautiful comforter, pillow shams, and all the trimmings. There was even a hand made quilt spread out on top of the comforter. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," Janet said, mostly mumbling. "Imagine how I feel," I said, but Janet was clearly unimpressed and uninterested about my feelings. "These look exactly like my bedroom things, but the bed is much bigger and there are extra pieces, and there's no doubt that's my quilt. My grandmother had it made when I was about eight years old. It was for my hope chest," she said. Somehow, from somewhere, I received enough good sense to keep from commenting about the hope chest thing. She went to a large chest of drawers - of course it went perfectly with everything else - and opened the top drawer. It was full of what are sometimes called unmentionables. Lots of unmentionables. She seemed genuinely happy for the first time I'd seen. Then she looked into the top drawer of the other chest of drawers. She didn't look long though. "I might have known," she said. "Known what?" I asked. "As if you didn't know. That one is yours," she said, almost spitting it. "That's enough of that shit. You can stop that crap right now," I said. "Stop what crap?" "You can stop blaming me for every damned thing you see that you don't like. I didn't have a damned bit more to do with it than you did. I've never seen any of this," I said. She gave me another of her looks and then went into the bathroom. She squealed almost as soon as she entered. I followed her and I felt a little nauseous. My spartan bathroom was now fit for any women's magazine you want to name. Sunken tub, large vanity with a full sized mirror and lights everywhere. Makeup for days. A fancy toilet and even a bidet. And, in case she just wanted to rinse off I guess, there was a nice sized shower too. Everything was glass, mirror, or marble. I left, figuring I'd have to build myself an outhouse. Back in the bedroom I noticed a new door opposite the bathroom door, on the other side of the room. At least I got some relief when I walked through it. It was obviously my bathroom now. It had a large vanity too, but no make up and not nearly as many lights around the big mirror. In place of the obvious makeup station I had a nice sink. There was a larger shower for me, and since I never used a bathtub there wasn't one. In its place was a large hot tub and I noticed it was big enough for four. Well, the thought was nice anyway. I poked around in my new bathroom, looking at everything and congratulating whoever had done it on suiting me so well. Not for long though, because Janet joined me. Wonder of wonders she even knocked before entering. "What are you doing in here?" she asked. "It's a bathroom. Guess what I've been doing." "Oh God," she said, holding her nose quickly and backing out again. "False alarm. I was just checking out my new accommodations." "I guess you're trying to make me think it's all new too," she said. "Take a look at it. Do you think I'd have put something like this in my cave as you called it?" "I guess it might be true after all. I just can't see you getting everything so right by yourself. It doesn't make sense thought. None of this makes any sense," she said. "Now you're getting the hang of things. You're catching on pretty quickly for a city girl," I said. "Maybe so country boy, but what about that meal you were going to cook me. I'm hungry and thirsty, remember," she said. "Now you're talking. I've been wanting to get started in my new kitchen since I laid my eyes on it," I said, heading that way. "Hold up a minute there. Now that I think of it maybe I should do the cooking. After all, it's obvious the new kitchen was put here for my benefit," she said. "Whatever you say Janet. I just want to get along in peace," I said, and I know I was troweling it on, but I couldn't help it. My seat at the new kitchen table didn't last long. I'd intended to keep Janet company while she did her thing in the kitchen but my presence wasn't required. In fact, it wasn't wanted. I was banished to the living room to try my new recliner. "Go watch TV or something," she said. "But we don't have Television." "Yes you do. I saw it," she said. "Yes, we do have a television set, but there aren't any stations." "Well go watch the wall. In fact, just go." I went. The recliner was very comfortable, but even though Janet was a beautiful woman I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of whoever sent her to me. Thinking of the way I'd felt when I found myself here, I didn't blame her, much. No doubt she had a nice life going for her wherever she came from. Winding up in the big middle of nowhere East Texas must have been a hell of a shock. It was for me, and I'd lived here most of my life. Of course I hadn't lived in this when but I had been in this area. She called me in to eat faster than I'd have thought, but she hadn't thrown together a bunch of canned food. We had New York strips, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. Janet was a fine cook, if I do say so myself. After we were done I found out that she wasn't nearly as persnickety about my work in the kitchen when it came to cleaning up. She was happy to let me do it all when I offered. Cleaning up didn't take long at all and I saw that Janet wasn't one of those cooks that needed to use every single pot and pan available for a meal. I wondered how she'd done so much good with the few she did use. When I'd finished feeding the dishwasher I told her I was going to check things outside and then milk. "What do you mean milk?" she asked. "I have to go milk Elsie. She has to be milked twice a day," I said. "Oh." Out in the barn Bevo gave me the usual grief when I put his mother in the stall. Every day, morning and night, he was offended when I cut his access to the cafeteria. By now he was gobbling down every bit of feed that I put out for him, but he was still put out when the titties were out of reach. Tough shit for Bevo though. I liked fresh milk myself. I was going to separate them completely in a couple more weeks and I dreaded the racket he'd surely be making at weaning time. With the chores done, as they say, the rest of the evening was up in the air as far as I was concerned. I didn't have a clue about how to act now that I'd be living with a stranger. Sure, I had lust in my heart, just like Jimmy Carter admitted, but I didn't really know what to do about it. Janet had been mostly snarling at me since I found her and I knew if I forced my wicked way on her she would no doubt resent it, at least. As far as that went holding a woman down to fuck her had never occurred to me before, unless I knew for sure that's what the woman wanted. In real life it just wasn't in me, no matter how good it might sound some times. It was easy to tell that getting naked and making a V was the last thing on Janet's mind too. She seemed to have given up on raking me over the coals, for now at least, and she actually tried to make conversation for a while, but nothing really came of it. Hell, we just didn't know what to talk about. After I took a shower and she had a bath we both knew we might as well go to bed, and that was another strange situation. Janet took her hope chest quilt off the bed and folded it up, then she turned down the covers and got in. I offered to sleep elsewhere but she laughed at me. "Just where else is there for you to sleep? On the couch, on the floor, or in the barn? Get in bed and turn off the lights, but you'd better stay on your side," she said. What the hell? I did it. ------- Chapter 5 The next morning was a little awkward for me but it didn't seem that way for Janet. At first, when I woke, it struck me as odd that I was scrunched over against one side of the bed, nearly in danger of falling out. Then I remember yesterday and turned to look at Janet. She was already awake, lying on her side, facing me, and staring. "Well, at least you don't snore," she said, then got out of bed and disappeared into her bathroom. I went to mine for a shower and after dressing I headed toward the kitchen, intending to go milk Elsie before finding something to eat. Janet was way ahead of me. She was already in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She even let me sit at the table while she cooked this time but the conversation was still slim to none. I took care of the dishes again after the meal and Janet returned to the bedroom I guess. She hadn't dressed before breakfast, cooking in her robe and house shoes. Did I mention how good she looked in them? Sure I was going to feed this time, I took one step into the feed barn, checked things out and turned right around, heading back toward the house. I could hear Janet's shower running so I sat down in the living room and waited. Then I waited some more. Janet came out dressed, about an hour later. She was wearing jeans, a blouse, and a pair of tennis shoes. I know that's not what they're called lately but it was still what I called them. "I thought you went to the barn," she said. "I did, but I came back in to show you the surprise." "What surprise?" she asked. "That's what I came to show you. Are you ready to go see it?" "I guess. What is it, a new cow?" she asked, and I don't think she could have been any more sarcastic even if she'd tried harder. "You'll see when you get there." I didn't bother taking her inside the feed barn but led her around to look through the fence. Her new palomino Quarter Horse mare was still getting acquainted with Jack and Francis. Janet was speechless, but only for a couple of minutes. "Where did that come from?" "She. It's a mare. I don't know where she came from but she got here pretty much the same way everything else has. Maybe you'll understand what I've been trying to tell you. I do not have any control of whatever it is that's going on around here. We're at the mercy of something or someone and that's that." "I guess you weren't lying after all, about some things anyway," she said, grudgingly. "What are you going to name her?" I asked. "Why should I name her?" "She's obviously for you. I already have a horse, remember?" I asked. "But I don't know a thing about horses. Yesterday was the first time I was ever on one," she said. "Don't worry. I'll teach you to ride your new horse. By the way, there's another surprise for you in the feed barn." She didn't wait for me this time. She went to the door and opened it. In half a minute she came out holding her new boots, smiling like she meant it. "Don't tell anyone else but I've always wanted a pair of Cowboy boots. I never had the nerve to buy any though." "Well now you have a pair and you didn't even have to pay anything," I said. "I guess that's one way to look at it. Of course I did lose my car, but I owed more on it than it was worth and it did have a flat tire the last time I saw it. Even though I like the boots I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made the trade if I'd had a choice." "Believe me, I know what you're talking about," I said. That was pretty much the end of the conversation for a while. Janet took her new boots and headed back into the house. I fed the stock and then put Elsie in the milking stall to do my thing. Things just rocked along peacefully for the next few weeks. Janet and I settled into a sort of routine as we became accustomed to each other. Little by little we grew closer, as if there was any sane choice. She even learned to milk Elsie and to feed the stock. We swapped out with those chores and cooking. Every other morning I cooked breakfast and Janet fed the stock and did the milking. This morning it was my turn to cook, and as she often did, Janet spent a little time making fun of the way I did it while I was doing it. I didn't care. She wasn't exactly bitching and having someone to talk to beat hell out of not having anyone. She'd even started teasing me with accidental peeks of exposed flesh lately. Sadly she hadn't started sleeping nude or gobbling my goober or anything else of that sort. It's true that the morning meals I did were not fancy. I knew how to fry eggs and bacon and how to toast bread. That was pretty much it for me and breakfast. After we finished today's version Janet bounced up to go feed Jill, Jack, Francine, Bevo, and Elsie. She was going to do the milking while Elsie ate. I was having a last cup of coffee, but not twenty seconds after she went out the door I heard her scream. I was still barefoot but I jumped up, grabbed the Marlin, and was out the door before she screamed again. I saw her at once and then saw what had made her scream. It was the biggest black bear I'd ever even heard of. It was over by the horse pen, hoping for something tasty no doubt, but had probably been stung by the electric fence a time or two already. Right now it was looking at Janet and no doubt wondering what all the racket was about. When it saw me approaching Janet it stood on its hind legs and gave us a demonstration of its own fine voice. I could almost feel it thinking about coming our way, so I took a couple of steps past where Janet was frozen in her tracks, to save her most of the muzzle blast, and put a round into the bear's chest, hoping that I'd aimed somewhere near the heart. I wasn't really sure where a bear's heart was located. The 35 Remington hit hard enough to knock it down anyway, but it moved as if to get back up. I saw at once that wasn't going to be possible, because its rear legs weren't moving, at all. I must have nicked its spine with the first shot. It tried to roar again but only blood came out of its mouth, quite a bit of it too. I'd already jacked the lever and now I drew a bead on an eye and fired again. In seconds it was completely still. Janet got hold of herself then, partially at least. She looked at the bear and then looked at me and then launched herself at me. She nearly knocked me over and then reached up with both hands, taking hold of my head, and pulled my mouth to hers, kissing me almost savagely. It was our first kiss, but it was powerful and long lasting. Finally she backed off just a bit. "That was a BEAR! A God Damned BEAR! It saw me and was going to eat me and you came out barefooted and killed it, just like that! You weren't even scared of it, you came right out and killed it, right now!" "It probably wasn't going to eat you. It was just curious, maybe," I said. "It was a fucking BEAR! I know it was. Bears kill people, and eat them. It was going to kill me and eat me, but it didn't get to because you came out and killed its ass in a heartbeat. Look at it," she said, pointing, "It's deader than shit. You killed it and saved me," she said. "I guess you could look at it that way." "You guess? You GUESS? Take me in the house and fuck me right now, RIGHT NOW!" Who was I to argue? I scooped her up in my arms and headed back inside. She put her arms around my neck and started kissing and sucking on it and then on the closest ear. I'll admit it was inspiring. When we were inside I propped the Marlin against the door trim, shut the door and then flicked the switch to close all the blast doors. When she saw them shutting out the light she shivered in my arms. "You're closing me in. It's a cave again now and you're going to take me to the back of it and do it to me good. My cowboy cave man. Take me back there and put some dick to me," she said, almost growling it. In the bedroom I set her down, expecting her to take her quilt off the bed and put it away. We never even slept under it; she just put it on top of the comforter when she made the bed every day. She didn't bother with it now though; she toed off her boots and began shucking clothes. I couldn't help it; I had to watch. When she caught me at it she smiled and slowed down, teasing me with the snaps down the front of her Maverick Blue Jean shirt, then ignoring it, letting it hang open while she unbuttoned her Wranglers and slid the zipper down slowly. She'd been teasing me for days already, testing me I guess. She'd quit pajamas for gowns as sleepwear more than a week ago and the last three nights she'd worn only a T-shirt. She used one of mine the first night and then switched to hers, they were so short they didn't quite reach the bottom of her buns and they looked great on her. When she wiggled her ass to get her jeans down it made her big fat firm titties wobble like hell and first one nipple then the other would peek out from where the shirt was hanging open. Her nipples were stiff now and they were big and fat too. Her bush caught my attention then and I got my first full look at it. She'd been letting me have sneak peaks since she switched to T-shirt sleepwear but I saw the full meal deal now. It matched the drapes and even though it was almost luxuriously full, it was still neat and tidy and I could just see the top of her slit at the bottom. She was naked now and I got a good lock at the merchandise from behind when she crawled up onto the bed on her hands and knees. Her asshole was such a pretty pink and her vulva was almost bulging, showing a brighter pink down between her lips where they'd begun to spread. I could see her moisture already glistening in there. She lay lengthwise down the center of the bed, on her quilt. "Don't you want to put your quilt away?" I asked. "No, I want you to fuck me on it. Granny had it made for my hope chest and it's done its duty. Get up here and prove it to me, but give me a little show first," she said, licking her lips. I'm not much of a tease, but I did take my time pulling my T-shirt over my head and then unbuttoning my Levis. I managed to get my drawers off over my raging dick while I pushed my Levis down, and then it sprang almost straight up. It was so hard it nearly ached. "My God! What a DICK!" Janet moaned. "It isn't that big." "It looks as long and thick as Jack's, waving around with precum dripping out the pisshole. It'll take me months to be able to get that down my throat, but I'll keep at it. Right now you need to come up here and nail me to this bed with it. "You promised once you know. Get up here and shove it up me whether I want you to or not." I knew she was just talking, probably to get herself hotter. It was sure making me hotter and I didn't waste any more time. I was pretty sure she didn't want any foreplay to speak of and I damned sure didn't need any. When I got on the bed, on my knees, her beautiful legs practically flew apart. As I moved over between them her hand took hold of my dick, pulling the head to her pussy and then swabbing it up and down just between her now slippery lips. When it was juicy enough to suit her, she put it to her entrance. "That's it baby, now shove it up me. I'm a big girl, I can take it," she said with a voice that seemed to be begging and demanding at the same time. I pushed what I guess was three or four inches in her and she moaned loud. "That's it. God that's gonna feel good in a minute. Come on, loosen me up with that gut wrench." I pulled back some and then pushed a little more up her. She moaned again and then her hands clawed their way from my shoulders to my ass where she dug her fingernails in like she was spurring me. With three more good ones I had it all the way in and started slow loping. I needn't have even thought about foreplay earlier; she was juicy as a freshwater clam from the get go. She grunted with every thrust and kept her nails buried in my ass cheeks, urging me on. In half a minute her legs wrapped up my waist and she latched her mouth onto my throat and started biting and sucking. When I thought about the titties I was mashing with my chest I wanted to do some biting and sucking of my own, but it would have pulled her mouth off my throat and I didn't. Things got really good to her after a couple of more minutes though and she pulled loose on her own, laying her head back and nearly howling. I took my chance, bending my back to fuck her a little harder and dropping my head to get my lips on a nipple. I sucked it hard for a few seconds and then bit down, not really very gently. She screamed and then her jackhammer hips took over from the bottom. She began banging her ass against me from below, slamming her pussy up onto my dick while I hammered in from above, but I'll swear it felt like she was making two strokes to my one. It was over in seconds after we got that started. She moaned and groaned and cried and bit and I just pumped come up her for what seemed like hours. Finally her pussy seemed to clamp down on my dick and then she locked up everywhere before she started shaking all over for nearly a minute that seemed to last weeks. I just tried to hold on. As she relaxed, I did too but I knew I was too heavy for her so I rolled off and pulled her up on me. We both panted for breath as I let my hands get familiar with her fantastic ass. "Damn, cowboy, you sure know how to treat a girl right, especially on the first date," she said, kissing me soundly before I could reply. I was ready when she let up though. "Well, little missy, don't you worry yo purty little head about it, I'll try to treat you right every time." When she laughed it finished pushing my softening dick out of her and when she felt that she kissed me again. "I guess I'd better clean junior up, I don't want to put him away wet," she said, still teasing. "It's better to let sleeping dicks lie. If you get his attention he'll want some more pussy," I said, warning her. "That'll be fine, I've got some more, and he already knows where it is." "It will be after a few more times, but I know you're already going to be sore tomorrow," I said. "You're probably right, but how did you know?" "Because you were so tight. That has to be the tightest little cooter I've ever worked my way up into, and I thank you very much for the chance," I said. "You really know how to sweet talk a poor innocent girl, don't you?" "I don't want to contradict a lady, but you're the sexiest innocent girl I've ever seen. You had me wound up tight in seconds," I said. "If you think I'm sexy you should see... She cut off before she named anyone and then her face clouded up and rained. I held her to me and stroked her hair and let her get on with it. I didn't know what had set her off, but she probably was about to name someone and then realized that she missed them. She cried and shook slightly for a few minutes and then I realized that she'd drifted off to sleep. I didn't rouse her but she came back on her own in a few minutes and kissed me on the cheek. Her eyes were still a little misty though. I reached up to the switch on the headboard and flicked it to open the blast doors, and the sunlight seemed to cheer her up a little. "As I was saying, you should see Kathy. She could get a dead man hard," she said, giggling. "Who's Kathy?" I asked, like a dumbass. "She was my lover. We lived together back in Dallas. I hope she isn't worried sick about me." "Even if she is there's nothing we can do about it. I would if I could. You know that don't you?" I asked. "Yes, I didn't believe it at first, but after Jill got here the next morning, and she had her own stall, and I knew you hadn't had time to build that even if you could have gotten her somewhere, I've known that you didn't really do anything," she said. "Was Kathy a redhead like you?" I asked, mostly to keep her talking. "No, she's bright blonde. Wait a sec, I've got a picture of her," she said. She went into her closet for a minute and came back out with a picture of herself with another beautiful girl, a blonde. "We met in Dallas and got together, almost by accident. We moved into an apartment together and I had decided I must be a lesbian and I know she thinks she's that way too. Now I know that I must be bi, thanks to your demonstration," she said, giggling a little and then fighting tears. There was nothing I could say that would have done any good, so I just held her and kissed around on the top of her head. We lay there, naked and quiet for maybe fifteen minutes. Then someone knocked on the door. There was a shock. "What's that?" Janet asked. "It sounded like someone knocking on the front door." "Well put your pants on and answer it. I can't go, I'm naked," she said. I didn't bother to point out that I was naked too; I just dragged my Levis up my legs and headed for the door, buttoning them on the way. They knocked again, more urgently, before I had the top button done so I blew it off and opened up. I knew something was screwy because there couldn't be anyone within thousands of miles that would know to knock on the door. Luckily I was already conditioned to see impossible things happen. From the picture Janet had just let me see I knew this was Kathy, and my first thought was that I should have guessed. She looked even prettier than in the picture but she also looked worried. "I'm sorry to bother you sir... "No need to apologize, Kathy, come on in," I said. ------- Chapter 6 She'd been staring at the wound Janet had chewed and sucked on my neck when it dawned on her that I'd called her by name. She seemed almost dazed as she came in and I shut the door behind her. I happened to be looking at the hall when Janet tried to peep around the corner and I saw the surprise on her face. "Kathy," she screamed, taking Kathy, who was still gaping at my giant hickey, by complete surprise. "Janet, what are you doing here? Where have you been? Where are we?" Kathy asked, rapid fire. She barely got the last one out before Janet reached her, giving her a possibly injurious hug. She wasn't offended and they were squeezing the breath out of each other almost at once. "I can't believe it, Kathy. We were just talking about you, and I was nearly sick about it, and now here you are," Janet said, excited to the bone and grinning like an idiot. Kathy stepped back a pace looking at Janet standing there in one of her nighttime T-shirts that barely covered her bush. "I can tell you were pining away for me," she said, sarcastically, "Here stands one of the most ruggedly handsome men I've ever seen, one that makes the Marlboro Man look like a wimp. He has a hickey that would send a normal man to intensive care and his pants aren't even buttoned all the way up. He opens the door and invites me into his little hideaway in the Amazon Rain Forrest - by name no less; and then you come running out, in a T-shirt that barely covers your beaver, screaming my name, with what looks like a gang-bang's worth of come sliding down your thigh. "I'm sure you two were just talking about me," she said, but she didn't sound too upset. "We were, I promise we were. I was just telling him how sexy you are and showing him your picture. Come on back, I'll prove it, it's still on the bed," Janet said, dragging Kathy away by the hand. They were back there for about twenty minutes before curiosity couldn't be denied any longer and I snuck back quietly. They were in Janet's bathroom, but the door was open and I could hear their voices. "The hot tub's in his bathroom dummy, wait 'til you see it," Janet said. "So, you're bathing with him too? How long has this been going on?" Kathy asked, but I could tell from her tone she was teasing. "We haven't yet, haven't bathed together anyway. We just did it the first time right before you came knocking," Janet said. "Well, do tell, what's the special occasion?" "Right after breakfast I went out to feed Jack, Jill, and Francis and... "Who are Jack, Jill, and Francis and why didn't they eat with you and handsome?" Kathy broke in to ask. "Let me get it out please. His name is Chuck; Jack and Jill are our horses and Francis is our mule. "Anyway, I walked out of the back door toward the feed barn and there was a giant bear out there, looking at me. I screamed but I was too shocked to move. Chuck came out of the house, in his bare feet, and killed the bear. "I can't tell you why, but it made me so horny I demanded that he fuck me right then and there. He brought me in the house first, but when we got naked he put the wood to me and kept on putting," Janet said. "Men are just beast," Kathy said. "You don't know the half of it, but it's not like you think. I'd have strangled him if he hadn't, and I can't tell you how good he was," Janet said. I could hear that they were moving back toward me then so I turned around and retreated to the living room. I was sitting in my chair by the time they got there. Janet had her clothes back on now, so I excused myself to dress. I put the T-shirt on but went ahead and put on socks and my boots, then I buckled the web belt and my Glock on. I saw Kathy eyeing my Glock as I came back down the hall toward them but she didn't mention it. Janet asked if I'd show them the bear when I reached them. "Sure, come on," I said, picking up the Marlin and opening the door for them. Apparently the Marlin tore it for Kathy. "Do you really need all those guns just to go outside?" she asked. "Just button your lip before you embarrass yourself any more than you're doing now. Go out and look at the bear, then you can answer your own question," Janet told her. We went out and Kathy barely took a step before she spotted it. She screamed louder than Janet had when the bear was alive. "My God, Janet, that a BEAR! A real bear, is it dead?" Kathy asked. "It is now, cowboy caveman there took care of that little detail. What? Did you think I was talking about Winnie the Pooh?" Janet asked. "I didn't exactly think you were lying. I thought you probably saw a wolf or a coyote or something and were exaggerating, but that's a fucking black bear. I saw one in a zoo once, though it wasn't even close to being that big. My God, Janet, those things are dangerous. Jesus, you could have been killed," Kathy said. "And you wondered why I got my panties all squishy," Janet said. Kathy was still dumbfounded, staring at the bear's carcass. "Do you want me to go with you while you feed the horses?" I asked Janet. "It's probably safe enough now isn't it? We'll just scream if we see anything scary, count on it," Janet said. "Ok then, I'm going to get the tractor and move this thing. I'll probably put it in the shed and skin it. I might even butcher it for the meat, I've heard that bear is pretty good, especially if you kill them while they're fat, and this one looks pretty good," I said. "I'm sure we can scream loud enough for you to hear us even in there," Janet said. "I'll just get the tractor and hook him up. I won't start on him until you and Kathy are back in the house." "You can go ahead, we'll be OK. I just want to make sure Kathy counts the horses," Janet said, winking at me. I hadn't thought of that but she was probably right. They were being very generous lately and even though I didn't think Kathy was sexier than Janet, I did think she was every bit as sexy. I didn't expect her to lay back and spread 'em this afternoon, but the writing was on the wall. We'd be living together and I probably wouldn't have to do a thing. I could tell that already from Janet's attitude. She was going to cause Kathy to give it up for me, early and often I hoped. If I needed to, I could always shoot another bear. I didn't think I needed to put on the front-end loader to move Yogi. I just hitched up the three point hook-up's skyhook attachment. It was all the tractor could do to raise the bear but I managed to get it off the ground, then I lowered it to the floor of the cutting shed. When I hooked the chain around its back feet and then pulled it up, the chain hoist didn't have a bit of trouble. After he was hanging I slit his throat and then opened his abdomen and raked out his guts. I left him hanging and draining and went back in the house to wash up and fix a bite of lunch. Janet and Kathy were already working on that, so I took a quick shower and put on clean clothes before joining them in the kitchen. I decided to try making a little conversation and when I noticed that Kathy was dressed like Janet now, in Wranglers and a Maverick shit, unbuttoned from the top to the exact same button no less, I thought I had my opener. "I see Janet's clothes fit you well, Kathy," I said. She gave me an odd look for a second, but Janet answered. "Oh, those aren't mine. Kathy's stuff was already here when we came back after feeding. She has her own closet and everything. Of course they had to make the bedroom a lot bigger, and the bed too. I didn't even realize it at first, because my quilt was bigger too," Janet said. "When I saw the changes from just an hour or so earlier I knew that the yarn Janet had been spinning for me was the truth after all," Kathy said, "Uh, do you think my jeans are too tight?" She turned her beautiful ass to me and shook it just a fraction as she asked. I was the one stupefied for a change. "Looks like they fit wonderfully to me," I managed to say, finally. She and Janet laughed at me then, with Janet even pointing to the look on my face. When they put lunch on the table I got a little suspicious. Janet had been chiding me since she came here about my eating too much red meat. Now, lo and behold, there were two New York Strips on my plate, and a mountain of Ranch Style Beans to boot. "I can see you eyeing your lunch, Chuck, and there's nothing sinister going on. After your cave man stunt this morning and later in the bedroom, you're getting all the red meat you want. Kathy says you'll need your strength," Janet said. I tried not to look surprised but I don't guess I managed and I really wondered if that meant what it sounded to me like it did. "Oh, yes. Kathy says there's no way she can hold out for even nearly as long as I did, especially since we now know that you're on the level. She did think you were right about taking it slow at first though, and she thinks she should wait until tomorrow for her first dick ride. "That will put us on alternating days, and give us a day between bouts so the bruises you leave on our peaches can have a day to heal. "We're both hoping we won't have to stay with that too long though, and to make sure we keep your attention we thought we'd try dick sucking practice tonight," Janet said. I don't know which was worse, the flaming feeling from the blush on my cheeks or the aching boner that was throbbing in my jeans. They didn't let up though, cause they both reached up and undid two more snaps on their shirts just before giving their titties a good jiggling. "Have you ever even tried one at all, Janet?" Kathy asked. "No, I've yanked a few cranks but I've never had one in my mouth," she said. "Me neither. Is his really as big as you said?" Kathy asked, pumping up my blush again. "I'll say. I thought I'd already seen a few dicks until I saw his. He has a dick, the others I've seen before were just wee wees," Janet said. "I can hardly wait," Kathy said. "He'll probably put us off though. Cave men have to skin the bears they kill you know," Janet said. Kathy just gave a little shiver, smiled at Janet and said, "I'm just waiting for him to skin my beaver." "And that's another thing, cowboy, do you like smoothies or us natural girls best?" Janet asked. "That's up to you two. Are either of you shaved now?" I asked, not being able to stop myself. "No, we both have whiskers on our biscuits," Kathy said. "Good, I always like a little hair with my pie," I said. "Oh, Janet. You've been holding out on me. Out with the story," Kathy said. "I don't have a story yet, but I can tell you it felt like he was licking the top of my stomach when he French kissed me, this morning. I have high hopes for that tongue," Janet said, and they both laughed at me again. The girls headed back to the bedroom while I worked on my feast. I started thinking about our situation and for a minute or two I wondered what it was all about and how it happened. Then I made myself stop. What the hell did I care about who did it, why they did it, or how they did it? Waking up to snow that first morning had turned my life to shit until I tried to blow my brains out. Hell, maybe I did blow my brains out. If my first dose of being back in time had been hell, after the pistol to the head stunt I'd surely been in heaven since I woke up. Maybe I did kill myself and this was heaven. Maybe suicide isn't the mortal sin it's cracked up to be. Who knows? I did know that things were looking up for me now. No phone, no pool, no pets and I don't miss cigarettes. Hell, I had it made now. And we all lived happily ever after. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2007-07-22 Last Modified: 2007-09-01 / 10:15:57 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------