The Cowboy Who Strolled Into Town

by Riley Moreno

  “How many are we talking?” a short man with the smallest dick David’s ever seen asks. He has two girls wrapped around him.

  “About 250 Shifters,” David say. “Their human family members don’t participate. They number around 300.”

  “So the woods will be awash with Shifters two days from now,” the first man said. “Is there an area where we can recuperate; make base camp.”

  “There’s an abandoned cabin a mile or two into the woods,” David’s throat is suddenly dry. “I can have that prepared for you.”

  “Excellent!” the first man seems satisfied. “The bag,” he indicates to Small Cock.

  Small Cock pulls a black plastic bag out from under his seat. He hands it to Miguel who takes it after wrenching his eyes from the girl sucking up Old Chief’s pipe. Miguel doesn’t check the money.

  “Please,” Old Chief says. “Help yourselves. There are many to go around.”

  Miguel looks like a kid with a five dollar bill in the candy store.

  David snarls at the girl that puts her hand on his arm, her breasts huge enough to suffocate a man in his sleep. Miguel snatches at her hand and pulls her on to his lap. David watches as Miguel begins to suck on her breasts. The woman looks bored. Miguel rubs her clit and she moans but it’s obviously an act.

  It is miserable.

  A redhead crawled over on all fours, her head snaking up Old Chiefs lap, joining the brunette who was lapping at his sorry excuse of a cock like she was starving. The red hair gleamed in the sunlight from the French windows behind the sofa. It burned, fire and boiling gold.

  David watched her lithe body glide up till she was flush against the Old Chief, her dark pink nipples hard and huge. Breastfed baby at home, David thought; wonder if it’s a boy.

  The Old Chief’s cock is twitching and he holds the face of the brunette down, pressing it upon his disgorging member, his lips locked firmly with the redheads. The Brunette comes up for air, her lips smeared with old man junk. The redhead, still kissing Old Chief, straddled him, her round butt cheeks, plump and spankable, quiver slightly as she descends and takes the man’s still hard cock inside her.

  All hail Viagra, David sneered. He’s seen enough. He snatches the bag off the floor where Miguel dropped it; the busty woman riding him and moaning dramatically, her swinging breasts in Miguel’s face.

  David kicks Miguel in the shins lightly to get his attention.

  “We’re leaving,” he says.

  “Oh come on man!” Miguel protests but David snarls and Miguel pushes the woman off of him, his dick shiny and hard from the busty woman’s juices. Miguel nearly trips in his haste to pull up his pants and follow David who is already out the door.

  David doesn’t like the deal, he doesn’t like the stupid old farts who think they’re the kings of the world with every creature at their feet. They’re sick men who want to hunt Aborigines in Australia, Pygmies in Congo and Shifter’s in their ‘natural habitat.’

  When Miguel had told him about it he had wanted to hit him across the head. But he figured if he didn’t do it someone else would and he needed the money. Not for some selfless thing like a mother in the hospital or to save his dad from cancer. Both his parents are dead. He needed it for himself because he thinks he deserves a break in this stupid life.

  “I’ll go check on the cabin.”

  “But the money,” Miguel protests. He tries to take the bag from David but he growls under his throat. Miguel knows better than to mess with a WereTiger.

  “My money goes where I go,” David says. “Here,” he hands Miguel a thick bundle of cash. “That’s for your small part in this.”

  “Come on man!” Miguel shouts. “This isn’t fair!”

  David pins him against the hotel building, his muscular forearm on Miguel’s windpipe.

  “Not fair?” he growls, “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. These old farts coming to hunt my kind and you having the balls to come and ask me to help kill them. I do all the work and you expect to get half just for getting me a connection? Is that the long and short of it, Miguel?”

  He can’t answer. David’s cutting off his air supply so he nods. His eyes are bulging.

  “Do you think that’s fair?”

  Shake of the head.

  “Good,” David lets him go. “I’m glad we agree.”

  David leaves him to piss his pants. He can still smell Miguel’s fear and ammonia when he reaches his car.

  Chapter Three

  Luckless Lucy in the Woods

  My new home is a dump. Sonya prattled on about how it was a ‘work in progress,’ she failed to mention it was a piece of crap property that looked like an old turd had been left to dry in the sun. It was modest. The living room was large and after we got rid of the rat colony under the floorboards it was also inhabitable.

  Diesel did most of the grunt work. He carried my sofa in while Sonya and I twaddle behind with a cushion a piece. I hung my Bon Jovi poster over my bed to cover the peeling wallpaper. Sonya made a meal on my stove while little Forrest toddled between her legs trying his best to topple her over.

  They are gone now and I’m lying in bed thinking about how alone I am; how if someone came to murder me no one would know. It’s a creepy house and screams of horrible things that must have happened here but it’s all I could get. I decide to take a few swigs of cough medicine and call it a night.

  I’ve just about dozed off when I feel someone shaking my leg. I kick at the hand and mumble something about letting me sleep but the hand pulls harder and I nearly topple off my bed. My blue hair is in my eyes and it takes me a few disoriented swipes to see a man standing above me.

  Holy hell!

  I’m screaming. I’m scrambling back on my hands and I’m screaming. The man ambles towards me; he grabs me around the head silencing my shrill shrieks of horror. He smells of rich soil and deep woody musk. The scars across his face stand out in the gloom. His peculiar green eyes are boring in to mine.

  “Hush your mouth,” he snarls. His voice is deep, booming. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  “I live here!” I say. Not really. He has his hand over my mouth so it comes out as a mumble.

  “What?” he asks. The proximity of his body against mine is arousing in a most alarming way.

  I roll my eyes and point at his hand. He removes it reluctantly.

  “I live here,” I say and push his hands away. I find my feet and stand five feet tall. It’s like a mere cat standing up to an elephant. “Who are you?”

  “This is my cabin,” the man says. “I own it.”

  I’m genuinely stumped. I thought he’d say this was his crack den where he came to shoot up most nights; or a Satanist cults meeting place or even the playground of a deviant orgy group. I did not expect him to come out as the owner of the property. Diesel had said the owners weren’t around!

  “Oh,” eloquent me, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “You’re trespassing,” he growled. That got me out of my comatose state.

  “I am not!” I screeched as if he’d accused me of adultery in 1865. “I paid rent and everything. The Sherriff said I could stay here and send my checks to PO Box account. You did receive my check, didn’t you?”

  He looked dazed like I’d sucker punched him.

  “What’s your PO Box number?” I ask on a whim. His slack jaw and over bright eyes are rousing my suspicions.

  “Okay so I lied,” he concedes but he doesn’t look too pleased about it. “But I need this property two days from now.”

  “What for?” I ask.

  “That’s private,” he says. His evasion makes me angry. What I should be doing is calling the cops on this freak who entered my house and tried to terrify me with my second eviction in 24 hours, no matter that he was very handsome and made me a little wet between the legs. But I won’t. I’m alone, in a house this man is capable of getting into. Let’s just resolve this rather than enrage him with threats of arrest and end up
being murdered.

  “Well tough,” I shrug.

  “Can you clear out for two days?” he asks. “Loan me the use of it? I can pay you handsomely. You can stay at the Waterville hotel, huh, imagine not doing your dishes. Or take a trip, go see the Grand Canyon.”

  It was tempting. The man himself was tempting. But I pushed both thought in the back of my mind. I have no idea what he wants to do here, and I’m not packing all that damn crockery again just so people won’t use it.

  “No,” I say as politely as I can manage. “I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” The shadow of a smile that had been playing in his eyes disappeared completely. For a fraction of a second I thought he might attack me but he seemed to rein it in and shrug with an effort. “Your funeral,” he muttered ominously and left. I followed him to make sure he was out of my door. He paused at the threshold of the front door and glanced back at me, his eyes piercing in to mine and I felt myself flush. He sneered and lifted his middle finger, and sauntered out of my house.

  Chapter Four

  The Family Man

  Diesel Wake could feel the swell of Sonya’s breasts against his chest. She didn’t sleep she sprawled. Her honey caramel hair tickled his face and he tucked them behind her ears gently. He cupped her cheek, and kissed the tip of her nose, his other hand snaking around her waist, his mouth closing around a hard nipple straining against her nightgown.

  Sonya moaned and darted her hand down his sweatpants, stroking his aching hard on.

  “Mama!” Forrest cried.

  Diesel let out a frustrated sigh. Sonya giggled, kissed him on the cheek then got out of bed to attend to their baby boy. Diesel hopped in to a cold shower, his penis wilting under the onslaught of freezing water. It was a little frustrating; Sonya was exhausted at night and he was horny all the time. But Forrest was worth the blue balls. He guessed.

  He’d been lonely before Sonya, before Shifter Grove. This place had opened its arms to the ex-Navy SEAL; a man who had no family and they had made him Sheriff. Sonya had completed the sense of emptiness and she had given him not only a son but reunited him with his father. Andrew Wake lived in Poughkeepsie with his second family; but had extended open arms to Diesel and Sonya.

  “Bye, kiddo,” Diesel kissed Forrest’s bobbing head and Sonya’s puckered lips and headed to the office. It was a quick drive taking no more than fifteen minutes. All of Shifter Grove was a drive of fifteen minutes from cabin to cabin; it made it easier to live as a community; not too far that it would be a hassle getting in touch, yet not too close that Shifting could be dangerous for the non-Shifting populace.

  Diesel took his job as Sheriff very seriously. Last winter a boy had gone on a Shift all alone and ended up in a ravine with his leg broken. It had been lucky that Diesel had found him before he died of hypothermia.

  “What’s up Bill?”

  Bill was Diesel’s deputy. Tall and gangling he didn’t have Diesel’s physical prowess but he was an intelligent boy and was useful.

  “Morning, D,” Bill said waving at him from his desk, his head bent over a piece of paper. “I’ve got a ton load of requests here,” he said finally looking up. He lifted the sheaves of paper. “Some of the families are concerned about the Blood Moon ritual.”

  “What about it?” Diesel asked.

  “They are concerned about security.”

  “As long as they stay indoors they’ll be fine,” D spread his hands as if it were obvious. “It’s like any other night, only all the Shifter’s will be out is all.”

  “Yeah,” Bill said his lips tightening in a grimace, “these are from Shifters.”

  “I don’t get you,” Diesel said.

  “The Shifter’s are concerned about the kind of security there will be to avoid conflict and preventable slaughter,” Bill said then raised a hand when Diesel was about to interrupt. “There’s also a rumor about a hunt.”

  “What hunt?” Diesel asked leaning forward on his desk.

  “Ramsey’s spotted a man named Arthur Grim in Waterville,” Bill said. “Apparently Arthur Grim is a man of singular tastes; namely hunting of exotic animals. Ramsey’s certain he’s here to hunt Shifter’s during the Blood Moon.”

  “That sounds a bit far-fetched to me,” Diesel said shaking his head. Ramsey had been known to be a bit soft in the head and had bombarded them with wild claims of alien invasions.

  “He’s not the only one, D,” Bill said. “Courtney; the redhead bar girl down at the Pig Out,” Diesel looked confused. “The one with the big knockers.”

  “Oh yeah,” Diesel said.

  “She says she was at a party Grim threw and there was talk of hunting and Blood Moon and we ought to be careful.”

  “I don’t know,” Diesel still didn’t look convinced.

  “She saw David Meyer there.”

  That made Diesel sit up straight and pay attention.

  “David Meyer,” Diesel said. “The twat who stole the bikes from the Fulton yard and sold them back for a profit?”

  “Yes,” Billy said.

  “Better check it out then,” Diesel grabbed his car keys. The day had just gotten interesting.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy and the Beast

  After a harrowing night I sit in my kitchen eating cereal wondering what to do now. The sun rays slant in to the living room through dirty windows that I haven’t had the time to clean. The inside of my cabin is murky and the stench of moldy earth is back.

  After Stranger Danger left last night I went in search of a landline only to discover that my cabin doesn’t have one. I can’t say I’m surprised. This place is so old it must have been built long before the concept of telecommunication was even conceived. My cell phone hasn’t had a bar of network since I arrived in Shifter Grove.

  So the question is do I stay in and wait for people to find me, or do I trudge the two miles to Sonya’s house and ask for help?

  A baby rat scurries across the floor and it’s decided. I’ll walk the walk.

  The sun is blinding. My trainers haven’t seen this much dirt since I went on a nature walk with Gay Soldier. He’s been heavy on the activities and I’d tried not to burst an artery when with him. I’m not athletic in the least which concerns me about my chances of survival in a death chase.

  Sonya had mentioned animals throughout the move and even Diesel had been insistent that I not leave my home after nightfall. But I hadn’t seen any animals, only redheaded handsome creeps who came in to your house and demanded you let them borrow it for a few days.

  He was handsome. There was something about men and scars that had always been my weakness. Gay Soldier had a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. It had been super sexy till he had up and left on his rainbow unicorn.

  I have to admit it had been very erotic, the pushing and pulling, the intimidations and the close proximity of his body as he stifled my screams. Okay, fine, I’ll admit I have a bit of a BDSM fantasy. Not too much. Just a little bit of dominance from the man is always nice.

  The trail to Sonya’s house is obviously disused. There are patches where grass has reclaimed the area and stones litter the path. The bushes in the woods are massive and unkempt. They’re practically as big as trees.

  One of the bushes rustle and I freeze, my guts turning to solid ice. I hope it’s a rabbit, or a deer, any animal that doesn’t possess sharp teeth and claws. The bush rustles some more and I can’t seem to make my feet move. There is a low growl and a tiger leaps out.

  I’m running then. I wheel back to the house, my lungs on fire, my legs protesting at the exercise, adrenaline kicking in so the legs don’t mind so much now. The heavy thuds of the tiger are getting closer behind me; I dodge behind trees so it can’t lunge and topple me over. The ground is getting steep now and my feet are losing control over their own movements, gravity pulling me down. I can’t find a firm footing and I know I’m going to go toppling in the ravine headfirst.

  The tiger leaps at me. I scream and duck down, rolling like an arm
adillo. There’s a thud then a crash and I look up from my pillowed landing in the dirt to find Stranger Danger from last night sprawled naked, his right leg popping out at an odd angle.

  He isn’t screaming. He’s grunting against the pain he’s obviously feeling. I would have been screaming if I were him. Luckily I’m not.

  But where did the tiger go?

  I walk towards him, hesitant on my feet. I’m sure the tiger is just around that boulder, ready to strike. What’s Stranger Danger doing here? My heart is pounding, my head is aching and I can’t seem to make any sense of what’s just happened. Who ever heard of tigers in the woods of Maine? Maybe it escaped from a zoo?

  “Are you alright?” I ask but he just grunts. “I can fix that for you,” I say. I’m getting the full view of his junk, he isn’t even bothering to hide it. He’s very well endowed. “I’m going to help you, okay?”

  He growls but I’ve just been chased down by a tiger so he doesn’t scare me… that much.

  I lay a hand on his distorted leg and he slaps my hand away. I’m not deterred. I place my hand firmly on his leg and he whimpers in pain.

  “This will hurt a bit,” I say. “Here,” I give him my useless cell phone. “Bite into it.”

  He looks at me with contempt so I shrug and put the phone back in my pocket. I set my hands around the dislocated leg and without warning wrench it back in to place with a satisfying pop. He howls like an animal and I quickly place my hand on his mouth.

  “Shhh,” I hiss, “there’s a tiger here somewhere? Did it hurt you?”

  He looks at me in bewilderment like I’m mad or something. Maybe he’s traumatized.

  “Wait here,” I whisper, “I’ll go and get help. You shouldn’t put any weight on that leg just yet.”

  He doesn’t protest which I find odd because if a tiger had just pummeled me to the ground and dislocated my leg I’d be blubbering not to be left alone.

  “I’ll be back,” I pat him on his scarred cheek and turn to sprint up the steep hill while my adrenaline is still pumping through my veins. I turn at the top to make sure he’s okay but he isn’t there.