Troy awaked. Once again. To the distant bellowing of his Aunt Lulu, and the warm, soft tones of his cousin Glenda's voice. The sharp jolt of alarm and nausea this generated in him was something he was getting accustomed to.
"Wake up, Tiger!" she said merrily. "Wow, I had such a good sleep. Real good dreams." She chuckled. "Real good. You were in one of 'em."
"Oh, uh, good morning, Gumdrop," he replied. "Oh yeah? Dreamin' about me?" He managed a grin and a chuckle, and instantly his brain was into overdrive. Remembering what had occurred last night, and forming ideas, getting ready for another nightmare of a day, and planning courses of action. He wasn't sure exactly what to make of his bizarre encounter with Wendy last night. But he was scoring it as a net positive in the time being. Any headway he could make into understanding these deviants' motivations, or establishing any kind of connection with them, had to be a good thing. He just had to strategize very carefully on how to turn it to maximum advantage. His current situation demanded some 'Glenda management', so he furthered his foray into flattery. She seemed to eat up any cornball bullshit he lofted her way. He had to be careful to not get careless or overconfident in that department, however. "You're my daydream, y' know, Gumdrop," he ventured sleepily. "You're what I think about every time I have any spare moment."
Glenda blushed predictably, smiling that stupid, rustic, buck-tooth grin he had gotten used to. "Aw, gosh, Troy, you're really the pearl of all the prairies! I love ya so much... Gosh, I just love ya... I can't wait fer every moment we're gonna spend together! Even doin' chores with ya gives me such a lift, I feel like I could run the whole farm myself!"
Troy devoted the best effort he could to humouring her and trying to echo her spirits and enthusiasm. Inside he knew the clock was ticking, and he was coming to increasingly desperate and alarming conclusions. He was trapped here and he couldn't think of a way out.
His mind went over many scenarios of simple 'escape,' but that was far too simplistic. Getting away was one thing. Surviving was another. And staying away was a third part to the equation. Living in the city for nearly all his life, existing by cash, credit cards, cell phones and automobiles, he was ill equipped for the sort of adjustments his current situation would foist upon him.
He simply could not come up with an adequate follow up of what to do beyond stocking up with food, water, a knife, flashlight, hatchet, blankets and some outer wear. Where would he go? How would he get there? Who would he ask for help? It was difficult for him to not lose all hope. He had to keep forcing his mind to look for alternatives and options.
For the time being, much as he hated to admit it, he seemed to be stuck here. For at least the weekend. Well, anyway, it would be a break in the routine somewhat. And church seemed of genuine interest to him. He would at least know where the church was, how to get there, and meet some of the other locals. He might see in what directions they drove off. Or rode off. Or walked, if they were perhaps close enough for that. He wrote off quickly the desperate part of his mind that considered seeking asylum there. If their 'pastor' was the one who provided Aunt Lulu with all of her biblical justifications for rape and incest, there was no way he could approach any of the clergy here with any sort of honest and rational grievances.
Chores were actually light today, pleasantly enough. Anything that didn't involve immediate care and feeding of the livestock didn't seem to be on the agenda. Glenda indicated that harvest would be coming up next week, and all the preparation and maintenance was already managed. So tonight would be a time to cut loose and have a bit of fun, as the next stretch was going to be "all work an' no play" pretty much until the harvest was complete. That suited him fine, as any sort of 'fun' that went on around here he was sure would be a horrifying experience for him. He tried not to dread whatever upcoming 'festivities' would be occurring tonight. His curiosity was eating away at him. He knew it would involve whisky, Viagra, heels and stockings. And dance music. He dared not consider specific scenarios, just for the sake of his sanity.
The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. Outside of grinding up against him or mashing her boobs into him on occasion, Glenda seemed to be just in a fun, good mood. He found himself enjoying her company on occasion, making jokes and engaging in light horseplay. As long as the physical contact was kept to a minimum, as it still made his skin crawl, he came to a startling realization. He actually liked her.
If you discounted the unforgivably deviant, predatory behaviour she had exhibited, she was genuinely a nice person. She was warm, kind, friendly and enthusiastic. And she was funny. She had a good sense of humour and never had a bad word to say about pretty much anything. Her knowledge and experiences were rustic and provincial, but he recognized that she was a product of her environment. He wondered what she might have turned out like if she had been born in the city, like him. With urban, cosmopolitan, progressive, modern values and education available to her. He kind of felt sorry for her.
In any case, an honest affection towards her made it much easier to play his role. He just cautioned himself not to get too far carried away with it.
***
Dinner time came, and the family gathered in the kitchen and the living room. Glenda and Aunt Lulu were doing most of the cooking tonight, and Troy had set the table. He made a conscious effort to belie his apprehension about what might occur after dinner.
Carol and Wendy finished up whatever tasks they had to accomplish, and ended up lounging in the living room before the meal. They were chatting in typical fashion about preparations for the harvest. It sounded like all was going fairly smoothly. Wendy paused to glance at Troy periodically with a sly leer on her face, and every time she did so his cock twitched, much to his alarm and chagrin. He did his best to ignore it.
"So Troy," Carol said, fixing him with an appraising look, "How about you? Y' think yer ready fer harvest?"
