Page 2 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
"The procedure comes in three default sizes and durabilities, but can be tailored. It doesn't reduce your sensitivity at all, and most of our subjects do report increased sensation. If, for some reason, you elect not to take a centaur partner at the end of the term, you'd have a few other options of species on the larger scale, but returning to a human partner would prove…noticeable, although not necessarily dissatisfying by any means."
"This says ‘portal’—” I said, gaping at the words in front of me. "Like...does the penis go...somewhere else?"
Annabelle snorted briefly but covered the sound by clearing her throat. "No, it's simply a metaphysical expansion. Tip to base, it's your body surrounding the cock, it's just a loophole in the matter of provided space."
Which was an easier pill to swallow than the convoluted jargon on the pamphlet.
"It's a big decision, of course?—"
"I'll do it," I said, closing the pamphlet before I could change my mind.
This time Annabelle couldn't hide her surprise; her mouth hung open, although otherwise her expression was blank. "You'll…"
"I'll take the procedure," I said, my heart racing in my chest. "It's…permanent?"
"It's not," Annabelle said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "But we only cover the cost of the accommodation spell, not the reversal."
I wouldn't be able to afford a reversal, not anytime soon, at least. I had student loans and most months it felt like my income from two shabby part-time jobs only managed to lessen the growth of my debt, never making any dent in the existing pile.
But I wanted this. I wanted a pretty farm, and a big, strong partner at my side. We'd grow flowers, maybe, with a plot for our own vegetables. And we'd get up early and work until we were sweaty, and the land would be ours and the debt would be gone.
And after I was worn out and sunburnt and almost too weary to move, I'd get my brain scrambled by an outrageously large cock. I'd have that big, strong partner pumping into me until we were both sweaty all over again and I was covered in cum, and maybe I was bowlegged too, if the "accommodation spell" allowed for that sort of thing.
"Can you…can you make it just a tiny bit too small?" I asked, pressing my palms together and trapping my hands between my thighs.
Annabelle's smile returned in earnest this time. "Frannie, dear, you'd beamazedhow specific we can get."
I let out a long sigh, my breath shaking and my heart still hammering, but it was excitement now.
* * *
After two days of interviews and background checks, and one awkward hour surrounded by a coven of witches with my feet in metal stirrups and my body more or less inverted, I was…expanded.
Annabelle had been right—I couldn't actually tell as I walked out of the cozy office and toward the dormitory provided for volunteers. There was no gaping hollowness in me, no quiet echo coming from my newly improved vagina. I almost didn't believe anything had actually been accomplished aside from a prolonged and not unpleasant tingling during the spell casting.
If you've never spent an hour strapped down and tipped backward as a group of women chant and draw chalk outlines around you on the floor and splash at your sex with unnamed substances and do a circle dance around you as the blood rushing to your head starts to get just a bit too potent…
I can't actually recommend it. It was pretty weird.
At least it hadn't hurt.
I paused on the path toward the volunteer cottages, wondering if I hadn't secretly obtained a new space portal and that at any moment a little green man might come crawling out from between my legs, when I noticed the sign in front of me. Follow the path to the left for the dormitories. Right for the relief barn.
What…was a relief barn?
I'd read farm rules Annabelle had given me. Check the chore board every morning for your tasks—volunteers, both human and monster, had work to do on the farm to keep it running. Don't approach a monster wearing an armband—different colors meant different things, but the two that stuck out were red for potentially partnered, and black for those who'd just arrived and hadn't been appropriately domesticated for humans yet. And, most promising, advocate for your needs—don't tell a potential partner you were comfortable if you weren't, don't play emotional games, that sort of thing. Monsters had their own cultures and things got fuzzy and potentially dangerous if we weren't all playing it straightforward.
No rules about not checking out a relief barn, though.
I slid toward the path on the right, following it through a copse of apple trees, with ladders scattered about. A few humans were busy picking fruit, carrying bushels over to a massive man—a giant, I assumed—who loaded them into a truck like they were little paper lunch bags.
I was now physically compatible with a giant, according to Annabelle. I paused to watch the group, but as the giant bent to accept a basket, the woman carrying it rose to her toes. The pair kissed briefly, the giant blushing, and I saw his red armband as he turned away.
It looked as though there'd be a new success story for the Initiative soon, and I could already picture the advertisement of the pair embracing. Maybe with her up in the branches of the apple trees. That would be cute.
I continued on my way, a large dark red building rising up, peeking through the trees, and the dirt path gave way to gravel. From the building, a sudden howl sounded and I paused in my steps. The noise was muffled, tucked away somewhere deep in the barn. It'd been a wolf's howl. No,a werewolf's. Turns out being a werewolf was a full-time job, not just a full moon one, and they were big, furry, and fanged all around the clock. Which had put a damper on a lot of women's excitement, apparently.
Not mine, but I had bigger…gamein mind.
