(PATRON FIC)Got time for a request? Taken in the old west style. Female farmer hears rumors about strange lights appearing in the sky at night. She doesn’t believe the people, but strange things are happening around her like people paying more attention to her more than usual and her bosom feeling tighter everyday. (PS, let her breasts become massive)
@@@
“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s the gawd damn gee-men!”
Humphry spits his chaw into the mason jar in his hand. He wipes his lips on the back of his ragged sleeve, a brown smear across them. He snorts, and looks up at me with a grimace. I try my best to hold back my disgust, and give a sigh.
“Hump, why the hell a gee-man gonna come all the way out to Los Bambinos anyways? Ya’ ever think of that?” I say. I cross my arms over my chest-and try to ignore the fact he’s staring. Humphry wasn’t the only one that did-but he was the only one that made my skin crawl. It could have been his stained teeth, his beady eyes. But most of all, it was the way he just looked, not holding back. Like a rattler ready to pounce.
Humphry curses, and shakes his head. “Can’t rightly say, but can say thassa what it is. Gee-men out here, probably tryin’ to round up work for the railroads. Them boys all for them and shit,” he says. He spits again into the mason jar in his grip, and wipes once more. ” ‘scuse me, I shouldn’t be cussing in front of a lady fine as yerself,”
My stomach rolls like I just had some curdled milk. I force a smile, then wave his comment away. “Yer fine, Hump. Listen, I gots to pick my seed up-try not to drink too much tonight, alright?”
Hump gives a nod, and turns his eyes back towards the road. He snorts again, and reaches to scratch at his pecker. Thankfully I’m inside ‘fore I see the rest. I exhale as I walk in, and take my hat from my head. I wipe away the dust and sweat, and dab at the pouring streaks of it all on my back.
“Want me to run him off?”
I look up at the counter, and see him standing there. Mister Jack, the general store owner. Folks didn’t talk too much about him-aside from his eye. Big ol’ scar across it, with the worst hid beneath a patch. But he dressed normal enough, with his gray-black hair slicked back. He had a rag in his hand, and leaned over the counter. I snorted, and shook my head.
“Acts like he owns the whole town, don’t he?”
Jack snorts. A sly smile creeps on the side of his face, and he tosses that rag over his shoulder. “Wishes he did, that one. So, Miss Molly-fifty, fifty, fifty? Corn, squash, and tomatoes right?”
“Fifty pounds fer each yeah,” I say. I reach into my back pocket, and grasp at the paper money there. “You need my help gettin’ it?”
Jack snorts again, and lets out a little laugh. “I’ve lost an eye, Miss Molly. Not my legs. I can get it well enough,” he says. He walks from the counter, towards a set of swinging double doors in the back. “Be a dear, and keep an eye on that old drunk though, okay?”
“Hump got sticky fingers?” I say.
Jack turns, his face stone as he glances past the window. “Mister Humphry is sticky period,” he says. He walks past the double doors, both of them swinging on their hinges with a squall. One by one he comes from the back, those fifty pound sacks over his shoulder. Jack doesn’t so much as break a sweat. Less than a few minutes pass before his register pops the price in it’s little window.
“A hundred and fifty pounds of seed comes to three-forty, Miss Molly,” he says.
I lay five yankee dollars down, and push them across the counter. “Keep it,” I say.
Jack stares at it a moment, his one green eye bouncing back to me. “Uh, Molly. I ain’t hurting if you’re worried,”
I smirk, and pat the seed on the counter. “Oh, it’s a tip. Yer gonna load this on my wagon too. And you know, maybe later you’ll have a pretty penny for a night out. Maybe with a real nice local girl,”
Jack grabs the seed, and hoists it over his shoulder. He doesn’t say a thing, but I see him smiling all the same. We walk out, going past Humphry. The wagon is right in front of the store, with Bessy tied to a post. Jack tosses the seed on the bed, and glances towards the sky.
“It’s about twelve.Think that local girl might be free for supper about four?”
“Oh,” I say, smiling as I lean against the wheel, “I think she might. But you gotta get the rest of that seed first,”
“Yes Miss Molly,” he replies. He turns, and walks back to the store. The wind blows, and dust comes in a thick cloud. It pelts him in the face, but he doesn’t so much as waver. Humphry watches him the whole time, and waits until Jack is inside to speak. He leans forward, grinning with a set of teeth so yellow they could have been cheese.
“Y’all gonna go out?”
I pull my smile into a curt line, and nod. Humphry smiles wider, and jabs a crooked finger up. He shifts the chaw in his cheek, and spits into the mason jar.
“Even with all them lights? Got people right scared,” says Humphry.
I knit my brow close, and tilt my head as I stare at him. “The hell are you going on about, Hump? You in the bottle this early?”
“Them lights! They been all over the field.The natives, they done said-”
“Shut the hell up, Humphry. Be nice to the lady, ‘fore I call Long John to haul you in,” came Jack’s voice. He pushed past the door, another bag of seed on his shoulder. Humphry scowled, and muttered under his breath as Jack drew near the wagon. He tossed another bag in, and looked towards me. He smiled, rolling his eyes as he tilted his head towards Humphry. I nodded, and Jack turned back towards the store.
“Is true, though!” said Humphry, jabbing a crooked finger towards Jack. “Them injuns done said-”
“Humphry, I heard it all already. The Cherokee see things a little different than we do. That’s all. You can’t tell me you don’t see lights in the sky every night,” said the clerk. He crossed his arms, and stared at the drunk. Humphry bowed up, his caterpillar eyebrows close together as he spoke.
“The hell you mean, lights every night? Jack I ain’t seen shit like that before!”
Jack chuckled, and shook his head. “Well yeah, if I was drunk every night, I doubt I’d get to enjoy the stars too,”
Humphry’s face fell, and for a single second we stood there. Then Humphry busted into a belly laugh, and smacked his gut. He pointed towards the clerk, and said “Well ol’ boy, ya’ got us there,”
Jack laughed, and turned his head back towards me. “Lemme get that last bag of seed for you, Miss Molly. I gotta get moving-I got a date tonight,”
Despite the heat, I felt my face glow.
@@@
I’d just enough time to bathe before he came calling.
Sitting in the tub, I felt my stomach flutter. It wasn’t the first time Jack-or anyone-had came courting, but it didn’t matter. It was him, and that made all the difference. I hopped out of the wash bin, and put on my yellow dress. I normally saved it for church-but since Long John turned lawman, the pews had been empty. The dress had sat in my closet, a fine coat of dust on it. I shook it out, and laid it across my bed. I had just sat down at my vanity when I heard it-wagon wheels, way off. Maybe a mile or so.
If it had been raining, I’d not have heard a thing. But on a clear evening like this, you could hear a bullfrog the next town over. I grabbed my comb, and ran it through my hair as quick as grease. I practically jumped into my dress, and made my way down the stairs. Every single step creaked, but I didn’t pay any of it a bit of mind.
Jack was still half a mile out, on that black mustang of his. I’d forgotten the name of the critter, but he called it something strange. It didn’t fancy anybody but him. It would let out a whinny and kick if you drew too near. But with Jack on top of it, it seemed calm as could be. He hitched the reigns a single time, and the horse kicked up a cloud of dust. I blinked, and then he was there. Hitching the varmint to a post, and patting the neck.
“You did good, Sleipnir. Rest now,” he said.
The horse shook it’s mane, and the clerk turned towards me. Jack smiled, the band of his eye patch raising on his cheek.
“Get that seed taken care of?”
“Well as I could. You hungry? I cooked a chicken, and made some biscuits,” I replied.
“Depends, you actually make it?” he said as he stepped onto the porch.
I smacked at his shoulder, and his smile just broadened.
“You know I did,” I said.
Jack laughed, and nodded. “Well, guess I’m starving then,”
“I got whiskey,” I said.
Jack chuckled, and said “Guess I’m thirsty too then,”
He stepped inside, and I followed. I went to pull the door closed, but stopped for just a moment. I stared out, right at the horizon. The sun had just gone to sit behind the mountains, and it was a right pretty sight.
But I kept thinking of what old, drunk-ass Hump had said at the store. All those lights. How he swore up and down it was something else.
Jack’s horse snorted, and I glanced towards it. It’s dark eyes met mine, and I shook my head as I finally pulled the door shut.
@@@
We sat on the porch after. Jack with a pipe in his mouth, the smell of tobacco sweet as we both rocked. His calloused hand in mine, every star a diamond. He grip tightened for a moment, then he rose from his seat. The head of the rocker hit the house as he leaned against a porch banister.
“You know, it’s true,” he said.
“That I make the best chicken in town?” I said.
Jack snorted, and tilted his head towards me. His good eye gleamed in the light. “Well, that too. But what Hump said. He didn’t quite have the words right. But he was telling the truth. Just in his own way,”
“Jack Sebastian, don’t tell me you believe that old coot,” I said. I pressed my boot against the porch. My rocker fell still as I raised my brow to him. Jack just turned his face back, and stared out at the sky.
“I’m not saying I believe his version-just that parts of it ain’t far off the mark. I’ve seen ’em. The lights,”
I don’t know why my heart stilled. Maybe it was seeing his shape against the sky. Maybe it was just what came out of his mouth. But I got up, and I walked up behind him. I slipped my arms around his waist, and kissed the space between his shoulders. Jack didn’t stir a single tick. I pressed my head to his back, the warmth there spreading across my skull.
That’s when he finally decided to speak.
“Molly,” he said, “I’m not saying you gotta worry-“
“I never do when you’re around,”
“-oh, hush. But I am saying it again. Humps right. About the lights,”
I gave a sigh, and pulled away from him. I went and plopped down in his rocker, and watched as he turned back to me. “And? So what if he is? So what if there’s a buncha lights in the sky? Hell and tarnation Jack, what in damnation does it matter?”
Jack, he stands there. Still leaning against the bannister, his one eye catching the light. He watches me for a second, then takes a deep breath.
“I should get going,” he says.
I clench my jaw. I try really hard not to say something un-ladylike. But I glare at him all the same. It’s all I had left with my plans pulled out from under me.
“You could just stay,” I say, “It’s already dark. Lotta things could happen on the road,”
“I can handle them all. Always have,” he says. He takes a pace towards me, and leans in. For a hot minute I think he’s gonna kiss me-but he just grabs his dusty hat from the top of the rocker. He puts it on his head, and starts towards the stairs.
I ball my fists up at my side until my palms hurt. I stand up, and make my way over to the bannister.
“Jack? You better stay here next time, hear me?”
He’s unhitching that fool horse of his as he laughs. The damned thing snorts, and seems to laugh with him.
“Oh, but that’d be real uncivil of me, wouldn’t it?”
I feel my face grow warm again-like earlier, but this time with anger. My lip twitches as I stamp my foot, and shout down at him. “Well, maybe I WANNA see you get uncivil! Ever think of that?”
He steps up onto the saddle, and I can see him grinning in the dark. He just shakes his head, and pulls the reins towards the road. “Oh, every day, miss Molly. Every single day,”
Before I can say anything, he’s kicked his spurs into his horse. He’s taken off, and all that’s left is a cloud of dust.
The stars twinkle, every pinprick of light brighter than the next.
@@@
I reckon it was past midnight when it happened.
I’ve tried to place the exact time in my head. Frame it all pretty as a picture, but I can’t. It’s all in slices, like the glass in that frame went and shattered. So telling it now, that’s what people get. Little slices of the whole thing.
@@@
The house shook.
That was what woke me. The house was shaking like hell itself was wanting to swallow it. I sat up in my bed, starlight cutting through the window. About the time things started falling off shelves, I got up. I reached on the nightstand, and grabbed my pistol.
People always thought that was right queer. A “lady” like me having a pistol nearby. But right then and there, I was real glad to feel that Colt in my hand. I sat there and listened to it all. Every creak and groan as the house wobbled on it’s foundations. Drip by drip, I started realizing things.
The light in the window, it wasn’t star light. It was too bright, too full. Coming through the window, it was a perfect rectangle. Like a bonfire, except pale and bright. Not yellow.
Those things falling off my shelf, they were rising from the floor.
I pulled the hammer back on my colt. I rose off my bed, one I should have been sharing.
Then I went and made one hell of a damned mistake.
I walked over towards the window.
@@@
That light, it’s all around me now.
I don’t have to look down to know I’m naked. I can feel it from my neck down to my cunny. All cold and metal. Like the colt-but a whole solid sheet of it.
People always ask if I screamed at that point. I guess they just expect women to do that-scream a lot and faint. Roll over and die at the first sign of trouble. When I was just a little girl, I did just that.
Then papa would spank me and tell me to get hard. Get real hard and mean when things get bad, and turn that scream into a rebel yell. So that’s what I did. I opened my mouth, and I yelled. I can’t rightly say what I yelled. It was just a mash of anger and words. But it didn’t matter.
Not a bit of it did when they came into view.
@@@
I beg them to keep the needles away, but they don’t. Past a point I barely notice them. The needles, those things. With their big eyes and their silver clothes. Their skin, it’s warty and green like a bullfrog. But they don’t hop or croak. They just act. With the needles, with the straps. With the tubes they stick in every part of me. Coming and going, pumping and dredging. It’s all a blur past a point. If it was a day or a week or a year, I can’t tell you. Wasn’t like there was a clock. Wasn’t like there was a sun.
Just the needles and the tubes and them.
@@@
I lift my arm to cover my eyes, but that light blares on all the same. Bright and pale, star light but not. It’s overhead and all around me.
I’m still naked, but at least I can move. So I do. Every joint and muscle aches as I try to stand. My knees buckle, and I throw an arm out for a wall.
Instead I meet the ground. The soft, plush ground. Soft as the fancy mattresses I’d seen some of the folks have. It embraces me, solid but not. It feels like fabric, but it’s slick. I try to roll onto my back, but I just go the whole way. Not a single inch of me rubs wrong on the floor. Nothing catches.
It’s warm. The slick, soft ground. I close my eyes, and breathe.
I think of Jack.
@@@
Needles and tubes.
Soft, warm and slick.
They alternate back and forth. Those things, with their eyes and gross skin, I see them sometimes. Standing over me and looking down. They don’t blink even once. Just bring the needle in, bring the tubes in. They stick me and then I blink, and I’m somewhere else.
Long John, our preacher turned badge, he’s got these things in his office. Shadow boxes, with butterflies pinned in the center. He’s got about fifteen of them lined up on the wall. Before he settled in our town, he had traveled the world. At least that’s what he said-I’d seen where you could order those shadow boxes at Jack’s. But he had them all the same. Lined up on his wall all pretty at his home, then the jail when he took the job. They’re right pretty things.
But they’re dead. They got caught and poked and prodded, and now they’re hanging on a wall.
I’m starting to think I know how those butterflies felt.
I blink again.
I’m gone.
@@@
When I opened my eyes and saw the roof, I didn’t believe it.
I laid there, taking it all in. Every fiber of the wood, every knothole. I sat there and looked at it all, and I still didn’t believe it. So I tried to get up out of bed.
Except I couldn’t. I barely could muster my chest higher than an inch. I try to do it with my arms, but they’re buried. Held under something slick, soft and warm.
Something familiar.
That day Humphry said that about the lights? It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. I didn’t have any real right not to-Humphry was a drunk. One that maybe forgot to pay for his tobacco from time to time. But he wasn’t one to tell tall tales, even if his truths sounded like it.
It was the fact Jack confirmed it that, in retrospect, scared me.
It wasn’t the tubes or the needles that made it happen. It wasn’t that warm room, with it’s slick floor that seemed to grow a little farther away each time. What had finally got me to scream was being stuck in that bed. Stuck right under myself.
Those things-those funny little bastards-they’d tricked me. That’s what I was calling it. A trick. It was the only way to really box it in, to absorb it at all.
I’d never been a small woman. Keeping my girls contained, it had always been a chore.
But now?
Now they contained me.
Jack was the one that found me. He came by to check on me-he said later nobody had seen me for over a week. So he’d came by, pistol loaded and expecting the worse.
He didn’t scream, but I still saw something in his features I’d never seen before.
Complete and utter confusion. Then fear. As his eyes widened though, I saw something else.
I saw his britches tent up. I can’t say I blame him-but I hate it took this long.
I hate it took my bosom being so big it overhanged the bed.
Jack though, once he picked his jaw back up, he enjoyed me just fine. He did the chivalrous thing. He asked how it happened, swore to figure it out, to make me better. That was the first night. He went to town, and returned with a wagon of his things. He told me he was moving in, going to keep a watch on me. Take care of me.
All the civil things men say.
Then came the second night, then the third. Jack standing in my doorway, his eyes drifting as he looked over me. Over my chest, with my teats as big as my arm span.
On the forth, he asked if there was anything he could do to ease my suffering.
If I wanted him to massage them, rub them.
Thinking back, it reminded me of that one night. When I’d told him I wanted to see him get a little uncivil. In a weird way, all those needles and tubes?
They had listened. They had done what that clerk himself couldn’t.
They got him to pull his pants down.
Ko-Fi
CuriousCat
Patreon
Twitter