Wrangler

by Hondo Jinx

  Chundra squeaked in the affirmative and trotted off, spear in hand. That spear no longer looked like a scalpel. Now, it looked like a pike.

  “This is a bad idea, darlin. We have to—”

  Philia cut Braddock off with another kiss, and her sweet aroma filled his nostrils. He breathed in deeply, and his concerns faded.

  Braddock released Philia’s wrists and cupped her beautiful face in his hands, staring into her huge, soulful eyes.

  Philia stared back, batting her long thick lashes. Her dark pupils swelled, ticking back and forth.

  “Your eyes are amazing,” she panted, and he felt her hands working at his dungarees again. This time he didn’t stop her. “They’re so dark and full of life. They look like stones within a rushing river.”

  “Yours look like stones, too. Like gemstones,” Braddock said, hooking his fingertips into the hem of her dress. “Emeralds.”

  They kissed, and Braddock started to peel her dress upward. Before he got it past her waist, Philia shimmied free, yanked down his pants, and squatted before him.

  “Oh,” she gasped, marveling at his jutting hardness. “I have never seen a man’s root before.”

  She reached out tentatively and brushed her fingertips along his shaft, studying every inch with her enormous eyes. She cupped and hefted his balls, scrutinizing them like a woman judging the ripeness of fruit.

  “Your testicles are large and heavy.”

  That made sense. He had been on the trail for a long time.

  “They hold your essence.” Philia licked her lips, took his manhood in a two-handed grip, and pumped her tiny hands slowly up and down. “If I rub long enough, you will ejaculate.”

  “That’s the way it works, darlin.”

  She pulled his shaft downward and leaned close, examining the head. “The essence flows from that small opening?”

  “Right again.” This was the strangest moment of his life, but looking down at her, he didn’t care. The thin tunic was hiked up to her waist, exposing the kneeling woman’s peach-shaped bottom.

  She wore no undergarments.

  On the trail, a man takes what loving he can find. Willing women are like watering holes. If you come across one, you don’t get picky about looks and such. You go ahead and fill your canteen. Because it might be a long, dusty ride before you find another.

  As a result, Braddock had known many women over the years.

  But this was the first time he had witnessed perfection.

  For a second, he drank the sight of her.

  Then he jolted with surprise as something wet and warm enveloped the head of his manhood.

  Philia had taken him in her mouth. She moaned, eyelids drowsing as she lapped the swollen tip. Her hands squeezed his balls.

  Braddock growled with pleasure.

  Philia popped her mouth free and smiled up at him, lips glistening. “Does that feel good, Braddock?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would love to suck the essence from your testicles, but please do not ejaculate in my mouth. Not this first time. To bond, you must plant your seed in my womb.”

  “Sounds good to me, darlin.” He buried his fingers in her thick locks and pulled her head forward again.

  Philia’s cheeks hollowed as she sucked greedily, pumping his shaft with her little hands and twitching her bare bottom back and forth, making Braddock crazy.

  Gripping her skull, he moved her head gently back and forth, showing her what to do.

  She was a quick study.

  The next thing Braddock knew, Philia’s lips were cinched tightly around his girth, and she was swallowing half his length with each rhythmic stroke.

  He burned with fierce desire. He wanted this woman worse than he’d wanted a drink in the desert. Worse than he’d wanted a campfire during a Wyoming blizzard. Worse than he’d wanted a gunshot wound to quit hurting.

  His balls ached, demanding release. Pressure built. Urgency followed, skipping gleefully toward explosion.

  He yanked Philia’s mouth free at the last second.

  She gasped in protest, struggling against him, straining to take him in her mouth again. She was in a frenzy of lust.

  But he held firm, restraining her until the pressure receded.

  When Philia quit struggling, he released her and took a step back.

  She watched with feverish eyes as he pulled off his boots and stepped out of his jeans.

  “Take off your clothes,” Braddock told her, tossing his hat to the ground.

  Philia bowed her head submissively then lifted the light garment slowly upward, peeling it from her alluring flesh, exposing her narrow waist and flat abdomen and the lines of her delicate ribcage. The fabric snagged momentarily, hung up on the swell of her bosom.

  Tossing his own shirt aside, Braddock stared in breathless anticipation.

  The thin tunic slipped free. Her breasts, full and round and fetchingly green, dropped into view and wobbled mesmerizingly atop her slender torso.

  “Do you approve?” Philia asked with a mischievous smile.

  She knew he did.

  Braddock leaned forward, grabbed a handful of Philia’s thick mane, and tilted her head back, exposing her throat. He savaged her neck with kisses, sucking and nipping, marking her as his.

  Philia moaned and gasped as he sucked and bit her flesh.

  Braddock bulled forward, drunk on the sweet taste and heady scent of this gorgeous woman. Philia leaned back on her slender arms and arched her back, and he attacked the firm globes of her outthrust breasts, kissing and fondling, sucking and squeezing, wallowing in her perfection, crazed by it.

  They panted like animals, shuddering with desire.

  He lowered Philia onto her back atop the soft green grass and stared into her eyes as he walked his knees forward, parting her legs.

  They had been spinning in a whirlwind of mutual passion, but as Braddock got into position, he detected a glimmer of apprehension in Philia’s eyes.

  “You okay, darlin?”

  Philia nodded.

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  She nodded again and showed him a bright smile. “I do. I really do. More than anything. It’s just… a little scary? You’re very large, and well, I’ve never done anything like this, and—”

  “Don’t you worry, darlin,” he said, and reached down to caress her pretty face. “I’ll be gentle.”

  Braddock was a man of his word, so despite the wild lust burning within him, he took his time, talking to her as he pressed against her wet and swollen softness.

  Maintaining eye contact, Braddock pushed gently forward, parting her folds, and spread her snug opening with his throbbing tip.

  Philia tensed, feeling his size, and her bright eyes widened.

  He brushed a chestnut lock from her beautiful face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

  When Philia relaxed, Braddock moved slightly forward, giving her another inch.

  She breathed in sharply. Her slick channel gripped him tightly.

  Again, he waited.

  “More,” Philia whispered. “Please.”

  He hovered over her, braced upon his arms, and watched her lovely face as he worked his hips back and forth in a subtle rocking motion, neither pulling free nor plunging forward but patiently stretching and warming her, giving her time and, judging by her increasingly enraptured face, much pleasure.

  Philia’s hands clamped onto his buttocks. She squeezed and tugged, urging him forward as he continued his slow rhythm, thrusting incrementally deeper with each stroke.

  “Yes,” she moaned, eyelids fluttering as she writhed beneath him. She released his backside, slid her hands up his hard, lean torso, and took his face in her hands. “Yes, Braddock. Yes.”

  Philia drew his lips to hers, and they kissed, tongues probing playfully. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked her hips in time with his thrusts, pulling him into her deeper and faster until he was pumping away in long smooth strokes, burying himself to t
he hilt and lightly bumping the sensitive nub atop her folds with every thrust.

  Wild with passion, Philia yanked Braddock’s head forward and whimpered in his ear, tickling it with her hot breath. “So good… feel like I’m going to… burst. Oh!”

  Releasing his head, Philia thrust her arms outward and arched her back, crying out with surprise as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lip, and thrust her chin skyward, veins bulging along her outstretched neck.

  Climax struck her like a bolt of lightning out of the clear blue sky. The lovely sprite warbled his name and bucked with convulsions of overwhelming euphoria.

  Braddock slammed his hips forward, giving her every inch, and jammed to a stop, filling her pulsing channel with his throbbing manhood and pinning the squirming woman in place as she thrashed with orgasm.

  A second later, he exploded with a bellow, pumping jet after powerful jet deep inside her, giving the lovely sprite what she wanted, filling her tender womb with hot seed.

  They jerked and moaned, throbbed and sputtered, grinding their loins and mixing their juices as they climaxed together.

  Then Philia cried out sharply, fell back like she’d been shot, and went utterly limp.

  “Philia?”

  No response.

  Had the orgasm knocked her unconscious?

  He touched her face. “Philia?”

  Nothing.

  He peeled back one eyelid and saw only white. Her eyes were rolled completely back. Sitting up, he studied her with growing concern, looking for the rise and fall of respiration.

  She was still as a corpse.

  He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently.

  Philia gasped, and her eyes flew wide open, glowing bright green from edge to edge.

  And that wasn’t the only thing glowing. Her entire body radiated a green aura.

  Philia smiled up at him. “Husband!”

  Braddock laughed with relief. “You’re all right. I was—hey!”

  He lurched, trying to keep his balance as he lifted rapidly into the air, riding atop Philia as she grew and grew and grew.

  A few seconds later, he was crouching on a short carpet of soft green pubic hair atop a beautiful giantess.

  Philia laughed, nearly toppling Braddock as an earthquake of mirth shook her flesh beneath him.

  Scooping Braddock into her palms, Philia sat up and lifted him close to her huge, beaming face.

  “Thank you, husband! That was wonderful. And I’m free now. Free!”

  She filled the meadow with girlish laughter.

  “I’m happy for you,” he said, staring up at her, “but—”

  “My whole body is coursing with power! I feel amazing. And this is only the beginning, my handsome Meadow Master. Once we recruit seven sprites—”

  “Hold that thought, darlin. You really serve me now?”

  “Yes, husband, of course!” She leaned forward and brushed his upper half with a gentle kiss. “From now on, your wish is my command!”

  “In that case, I have two requests.”

  “Wonderful!” Philia brightened, apparently excited by the notion of serving him. “What are your two commands, glorious husband?”

  “First, can you make me normal size again?”

  Philia threw back her head with giddy laughter. “Of course, husband. I will restore your size at once. But first, I would recommend that you put on your clothes and wands so they, too, will be restored.”

  The stunning giantess set him gently on the ground.

  As Braddock dressed, he admired the wobbling moons of her massive breasts.

  A moment later, Philia returned him to normal size, threw her arms around his middle, and nuzzled happily into his chest. “It is exciting to be a full-sized woman.”

  She gave another peel of laughter, seized his face, and popped onto tiptoes to kiss him.

  Then she stepped back and pumped excitedly up and down on the balls of her feet, and her body bounced in ways that made Braddock consider a last-minute change to his second command.

  But he stuck to his guns when she asked, “How else may I serve you, husband?”

  “I need to get a very heavy iron contraption up a steep hillside.”

  9

  On Philia’s advice, they ascended a gentler slope downstream from Braddock’s usual game trail.

  He felt good. A roll in the hay always lifts a man’s spirits. But this was more than that.

  Since bonding with Philia, he was bursting with energy and rammier than a bull in a herd of sleek cows.

  So much so, in fact, that it was hard to pay attention to everything Philia said during the trip to the meadow, but he did learn a few things.

  For starters, Chundra was male. His people were the fur folk. They lived in communal structures that were mostly subterranean and valued food, music, and fun over wealth or work.

  Doal was a bargle, one of a rare and ancient species that mostly shunned contact with other beings but loved the company of meadow sprites.

  Meadow sprites congregated around powerful Meadow Mothers. Meadow Maidens like Philia had been possessed only minor magic. These tiny winged women were assigned specific duties like tending sick trees; pleasuring the Meadow Mother; cooking; cleaning; making and mending items; and gathering things like dew, sap, pollen, honey, and herbs. They surrendered these substances, which were used in elixirs, to the Mother’s handmaidens, who were larger and possessed more powerful magic than Meadow Maidens.

  Philia feared and respected her Meadow Mother, Hortensia, but despised the Meadow Mother’s seven handmaidens. “The handmaidens are meaner than pixies on mal root. They treat me horribly.”

  But then her pretty face lit up with sudden revelation. “Correction, they used to treat me horribly. I am free now, thanks to you, master!”

  Braddock grunted to show he was happy for her, but he remained distracted by whatever was happening inside his own body. His muscles coursed with power, like he was coming off a week of rest and steak dinners and had just downed a pot of strong coffee.

  He almost felt strong enough to carry that stove uphill himself.

  Which was foolishness, of course.

  Meanwhile, Doal toted the three-hundred-pound stove on his rocky shoulder with no more trouble than Braddock carried his hat on his head.

  In other words, no trouble at all.

  In fact, trouble was nowhere to be seen in any form until he told Philia and Doal to wait in the woods then topped the ridge, rode across the meadow, and was accosted by the angry redhead glaring at him from the edge of the stone structure.

  “Where have you been?” Elizabeth demanded.

  Some women care more about asking questions than getting answers. Apparently, Elizabeth was one of these women, because before Braddock could answer, she snapped, “I thought you’d gotten killed down there. I made your stupid coffee, but it’s probably cold by now. What did you salvage?”

  “More than expected.” Braddock was just realizing he probably should have prepared an explanation. But again, unloading his wagon tends to put a man at ease. “A lot has changed.”

  “What do you mean?” Elizabeth craned her neck as he drew closer. “And what is that thing in your lap?”

  He had left Doal and Philia on the slope just over the ridge, figuring Elizabeth might be shocked by the sight of a beaming sprite and a hulking, four-armed giant made of living stone.

  He had, however, decided to bring Chundra along, thinking of him as a furry little ambassador.

  Who wouldn’t love Chundra?

  Braddock smiled and started to say something, but his excited companion beat him to the punch.

  Chundra popped up on the saddle, waved his spear, and squeaked the word Braddock had taught him on their way up the hill. “Hi!”

  Elizabeth screamed in terror and lifted the six-shooter.

  “Whoa there,” Braddock said, patting the air. “I’m happy to see you’re using a two-handed grip, darlin, but you mind
pointing that thing someplace else?”

  Elizabeth lowered the barrel but stared at Chundra like Braddock was hauling a full-sized grizzly on his saddle. “What is that thing?”

  “Hi!” Chundra squeaked again.

  Elizabeth took a step backward. “It talks?”

  “Not it,” Braddock corrected her, “he. Elizabeth, this is Chundra. Chundra, this is Elizabeth.”

  Chundra dismounted in a flash and waddled forward with a big smile.

  Elizabeth uttered a strangled cry and took another step back.

  “Hi,” Chundra said again and gave a deep bow. “Lizbet. Chundra. Hi. Hi. Hi.”

  Elizabeth laughed nervously, apparently charmed to some degree by the tiny bear-man’s decorum and attempted use of her name. “Hi… Chundra.”

  Chundra whistled happily and stretched out a furry little hand. Elizabeth hesitated briefly, then stepped forward and shook his tiny hand with her thumb and forefinger.

  “Chundra is our friend,” Braddock said, climbing down from the buckskin. “One of three friends I made this morning.”

  Friends, he thought, and pictured Philia’s beautiful face grimacing with ecstasy beneath him. That’s putting it mildly.

  So much had changed, he didn’t quite know where to start.

  “It’s nice you made friends,” Elizabeth said. “Did you see any sign of Father? He has always been interested in natural history. He will enjoy meeting Chundra.”

  “No sign of your father,” Braddock said, and didn’t bother to restate his opinion on their chances of being rescued. “The other two friends are just downhill, waiting to meet you.”

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said warily. “Why didn’t you bring them with you? What are they waiting for?”

  “Maybe you ought to give back my six-shooter.”

  Eying him with suspicion, Elizabeth reluctantly surrendered the firearm.

  Braddock holstered it. “You’re a little jumpy right now, and I don’t want you shooting our friends by accident.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t shoot them,” Elizabeth protested, apparently forgetting how close she had come to blowing Chundra and Braddock out of the saddle. “Why would I do such a thing?”