Page 34 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
Then Miss Bugatrice of Bloodthirst had taken issue with me, and rolled the egg out of reach. And here I was…
"Stuck again."
"No," I whispered, eyes falling shut at the familiar grit and groan of that glorious voice outside of the coop. At my back. Looking at me.
Stuck.
Again.
Just pretend you're not here, Valerie. Like cats who put their heads behind curtains and think you can't see them.
Except youcouldsee those cats. Just like the werewolf who'd utterlyruinedme the day before could see me.
See my ass, specifically. Thankfully covered in more than panties this time.
"What are these, little berry?"
His voice was muffled through the walls of the coop, but not enough that he needed to raise his voice to speak to me. Two quick, firm pats struck my ass and I jumped, the coop rattling again and the chickens complaining.
"Overalls," I said, because I wasn't going to fool him into thinking I was invisible with my rather pronounced ass hanging out of a hole in the wall.
Stuck. In a hole. In the wall.
I'd used that for a search term on an undisclosed website once. Or twice.
I sighed, rolling the egg back to Bugatrice and planting my elbows on the floorboards.
"They're fuck-proof," I said, and the chicken in front me clucked as I winced.
Don't throw a gauntlet down when you're stuck in a wall, Val.
"Oharethey, berry? You think?"
The werewolf was as delicate in clawing open my overalls, right down the middle of the seat, as he had been while entering me for the first time. It was sunny out and there was no cool breeze against my skin, and he'd made sure to catch my underwear in his sharp grip too. No, it was all sunshine and warm fur against my ass.
"There arepeople," I hissed.
"Are there? Can you see them?" he asked, laughing softly, grinding a thickening cock between my cheeks.
"I'llscream," I warned.
He paused, one clawed thumb stroking the right cheek of my ass, spreading me slightly. Shit. He didn't take long to get hard. He was already prodding against me, and while I might not have been as wet as when he'd licked me, he was dripping.
"You will, won't you, berry?"
I would've felt better if he hadn't sounded so delighted by the prospect. Was there really not anyone around, or?—
I did scream as he slammed into me, but he was prepared, a sudden pounding racket banging against the wall above my head.
Hammering.
"Bastard!" I cried out, and then my mouth hung open as he kneed my legs apart and shuffled closer, sinking deeper.
And it didn't matter if I shouted the word or whispered it; he was making too much of a racket. And in answer, the goddamn chickens were screeching and flapping, feathers spiraling into the air as they rushed for the exit.
Iwas the exit.
I screamed and ducked, covering my head with my arms as a flurry of pecks and talons and feathers and fat chickens spun in a tornado over my head and shoulders.
