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CYOA3 – Farmer's Delight – FINALE – Chapter 20: All Good Things
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 06:20:43 +0000 UTCPreviously: Farmer had a business meeting with Sebastian that kind of went off the rails. But he has a positive feeling that he has snagged himself a new employee.
Content this chapter: cuckolding; humiliation; dirty talk
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Farmer has got quite a few drinks under his belt by the time Lewis clambers up onto the stage. Looking around, he supposes that all the others are feeling quite similar. Their faces are all flushed and their eyes are glassy and they all look so horny that he feels himself starting to get horny right there in the middle of the Spirit’s Eve party.
Somewhere in the distance of the hedge maze he can hear the kids screeching in horror and delight, though, so he tries to blink that feeling of immediate carnal interest away and focus on what Lewis has to say.
The old guy is slightly swaying on the spot. He’s wearing a black pair of devil horns that Farmer is pretty sure Marnie put there; and there’s a smudge of lipstick on his cheek which Farmer is also pretty sure Marnie put there.
He finds himself wondering if Lewis likes to play with her the same way he likes to play with Farmer. Whether he’ll make her be on all fours and moo like a cow while he fucks her from behind-
“Ladies and Gentlemen!”
Farmer blinks, trying to keep his mind out of the gutter. Which is surprisingly difficult given the fact that no matter where he looks, he can see someone that he fucked around with.
Damn. Fuck. He’s a slut.
“I thought we could use the magic of the uh… the hour! And see what you have all voted on! It’s about the future of our wonderful Pelican Town, so I do sincerely hope you all have carefully thought about it before casting your votes!”
There’s muttering that sounds like almost half hearted interest as the rest of the gathering comes a little closer, migrating drunkenly toward the stage while clutching at plates piled with Spirit’s Eve themed food.
Lewis shuffles around, pulling the voting box that had been sitting in his home for the past few months into the middle of the stage. He pulls a lid that had been placed on it off and peers inside, his face utterly unreadable.
Farmer already starts whooping from the back. Shane drunkenly chimes in since he’s shit faced and in his natural habitat. He’s seemed a little calmer over the past few days since Farmer took care of him.
Lewis looks over to them with mild irritation but his mouth keeps twitching into a grin despite himself. He grabs the back of the box and tilts it forward so everybody can see the three lone votes for Joja next to the overwhelming amount of votes for the Community Center.
Cheers erupt from the rest of the town’s people and Farmer can’t help but feel like he did something for them; even if it was nothing but be a fucking slut.
.o.
The Spirit’s Eve festivities have been nice; but they’re nothing compared to what goes down the next day when the town, groggy and confused, finds themselves gathering one-by-one in front of the completely renovated Community Center to stare at it with quiet disbelief.
Farmer is standing beneath a tree and just watching their faces with a growing sense of satisfaction.
He did that. The methods might have been rather unorthodox, but the results are still the same. People not believing their own eyes. Rubbing them like children at the Feast of the Winter Star.
He wonders if he should say something, but decides that it would be too gauche. In the end, it doesn’t matter why the Community Center is the way it is now. Rasmodius knows and Farmer knows… and a whole slew of weird little critters that have bounced and chirruped through his whole house last night, thanking him on their way out as if they hadn’t made him spread his legs like a whore for the past couple of seasons.
They were happy, the town’s people were happy and Farmer… was happy as well. It’s a weird feeling, being so satisfied. He does not think he’s ever had this inner peace before and as he slowly pushes off the tree he had been leaning on to follow the rest of the town inside the Community Center to look at its insides, he thinks that this is exactly what he’s come to Stardew Valley for in the first place.
It’s what his grandfather had been writing about in his last letter to him and it is what had been itching at the very back of his mind until he packed up his stuff and moved out here on a wild limb.
Peace and happiness and a feeling of togetherness.
He didn’t have that back in Zuzu with his office job. He’s had some fun years there, starting up his sordid little online career as well – something that had fallen on the wayside but he might just revive again now that he has two eager young men at his side.
.o.
The Junimo might be gone, but Farmer can still feel them all around the place as he wanders from room to room and watches people admire the clean, fixed-up place. There are even books and toys for the kids which they immediately pounce on. It’s honestly wild.
Farmer, feeling a little overwhelmed, sits down at the new community kitchen table and watches Gus go through the pantry and everything else, already muttering about the dishes he could make in a well-stocked kitchen such as this. About the courses he could give everybody else to elevate their culinary expertise. It’s honestly kind of cute.
And just as Farmer starts to stare at Gus’ ass when the big guy bends down to inspect the array of pots and pans beneath the sink, does he feel the atmosphere around him shift and an odd prickle start up all over his skin.
Rubbing his arms absent mindedly, he realizes that he recognizes the feeling. Magic. Apparently the Junimo have left him with just one more little goodbye present.
The tingle all over his skin focuses right at the top of his spine and travels along its line until it settles in the small of his back. He closes his eyes and swallows thickly. For a moment it seems like he is suspended in some warm liquid, all the sounds coming only muffled toward him.
When he opens his eyes back up, Gus is still standing there by the kitchen sink, but he has stood up and is clutching at the very edge, just staring out into nothingness. He looks about as oddly confused as Farmer feels.
A soft clearing of the throat has Farmer turn his head and peer toward the entrance of the community kitchen area. He already knows who he’ll find there but it still is somewhat jarring to see Rasmodius in his whole… wizard-y getup. He looks tall and foreboding and Farmer immediately wants him.
One corner of Rasmodius’ mouth curls, his smug little smirk entirely hidden in the whiskers of his beard. His eyes are glittering and while Farmer would have said at the beginning of their acquaintance that it is malicious looking, he now can identify that the wizard is simply amused.
“I see that nothing much has changed even with the Junimo gone.”
Farmer startles mildly. His gaze flicks toward Gus but he is still standing at the sink looking mildly dazed.
Rasmodius chuckles.
“Do not worry. The magic has only now gotten into effect. It will take them a minute or two to settle into their roles.”
“Their… roles?” Farmer echoes, albeit weak.
Rasmodius does not answer; not yet. Instead he beckons for Farmer to come closer and the little cocky movement of those fingers has him getting up and walking toward the wizard like a twine has been connected to his belly button and Rasmodius is pulling on it.
There’s a faint achy sensation in his belly that Farmer identifies as being horny. He licks his lips.
Rasmodius looks him briefly over once he’s standing in front of him. His eyes are still glittering with amusement.
“You did… well,” he finally allows, fingers pinching Farmer’s chin to keep his head still and steady. Which is good. It feels like his skull is stuffed with cotton candy and he keeps swaying slightly on his feet. “You deserve a reward. The Junimo are quite right.”
“I don’t…”
“...understand. Yes. I know. It is not that hard to figure out, though. Come.”
Rasmodius gives him another critical once-over before letting go of him and turning with a dramatic little flick of his cape to march back where he came from. Farmer, for lack of something better to do, follows him like a puppy.
He feels uncomfortable in his clothes, fingers tugging at the sides of his shirt and wandering quite a bit toward the row of buttons. After just a few steps taken, Rasmodius peers around his shoulder to see what the holdup is and rolls his eyes.
He mutters something in a language Farmer doesn’t think he ever heard and makes a complicated gesture with his right hand – and Farmer’s clothes are gone.
He exhales softly, the tension in his spine releasing all in one go. He knows in some little part of his brain that he shouldn’t be so happy to be buck naked right in the middle of the Community Center, but for the most part he feels floaty and happy and… horny.
Rasmodius resumes his walk without another word. Farmer creeps after him, naked feet causing soft little slapping sounds on the polished and waxed floor. Soon enough, though, the sound is overshadowed by something else. A low, desperate groaning.
Warmth rushes through him, cheeks flushing with eager anticipation as he moves to stand next to Rasmodius who has stopped to peer into one of the rooms.
Inside there are a few of the people of Pelican Town just… indulging themselves. Kent and Elliott who have bullied Harvey onto his back on the plush carpet that is now spread out on the crafting room floor, shushing him and murmuring drunken little nonsense phrases at him as he squirms and grabs at them; whether to push them away or pull them closer, Farmer isn’t all too sure.
Elliott and Kent exchange a little glance, then split up their attention. Farmer leans against the doorframe, his fist coming around his cock to slowly play with himself to the sight of Elliott kissing Harvey and carding fingers through his hair while Kent goes down on him with the gusto of a man that has ate quite a few pussies in his life.
Farmer exhales softly, chest warm and prickling. Yeah… fuck… Harvey has been one of those that slipped through his fingers time and again and he’s honestly kind of upset about it. Especially now that he hears the high-pitched little whining sounds that Elliott is practically eating right from his lips.
He certainly would have stayed to watch the whole performance if Rasmodius hadn’t wrapped his hand around his wrist and started pulling him along. Farmer whimpers, head turning to keep watching the three fucking right there. Right in the middle of the room. But Rasmodius is unrelenting.
“What is… I mean… where are the-”
“...Others? Or do you mean the children? Do not fret. They have all mysteriously felt the need to go outside and have a barbeque in the lovely weather. Everybody of interest is in here, I assure you. For your pleasure.”
Farmer’s mouth works a few times without any sound escaping him before he softly repeats: “...for my pleasure…”
Rasmodius throws him a shrewd little glance. “Of course. This is meant as a treat. For you. Now come.”
Rasmodius belligerently waves him along. The main room is surprisingly lively. There is Alex working out, naked and hard and entirely too good looking not to stop and stare at. Caroline is there too, surprisingly enough, one hand slipped underneath her skirt, her arm moving rhythmically as she watches Alex show off for her, his body glistening invitingly with sweat.
Not too far off are Shane and Demetrius; Shane with his hand pressed against his mouth, eyes wide as he stares down at Demetrius swallowing his cock like he’s never done anything different in his life. Farmer’s mouth drops open, eyes stuck on how Demetrius’ throat bulges around the cock lodged in there.
Farmer’s throat goes dry almost in sympathy, spasming around nothing but suddenly very much wanting to share the treat. As he watches, Shane carefully extends a trembling hand and spears his fingers into Demetrius’ tight curls.
Demetrius glances up at that, sweet as you please with his dark brown eyes, lips glistening as they’re stretched around Shane’s cock.
Farmer makes a soft sound but before he can twist on his heel to make his way over to them, Rasmodius has him grabbed by the wrist and pulls him along, past a really curious display.
Pierre and Morris, frozen like statues, their faces pinched tight and flushed. They look like they are seconds away from actually throwing fists.
Farmer stumbles as Rasmodius keeps pulling him along.
“Uh… what the fuck?”
Rasmodius glances back and Farmer gestures helplessly at the frozen Pierre and Morris.
The wizard follows his limp wristed point and makes an impatient sound in the back of his throat. “Later. Now come. You have not seen everything yet.”
“Oh my god,” Farmer whispers but starts obediently trotting again. He doesn’t think a single person has found a counter to Rasmodius’ stubbornness yet and he has a feeling that he won’t be the one to make the discovery.
So he lets himself get led past the steps that lead down into the boiler room and toward the what he assumes is some form of treasury. It’s a rather posh little space, all in all with that huge safe and massive polished desk.
There were people in here, too; the air was thick with sex and filled also with the soft little whines of his boys. Farmer would recognize those anywhere, even if he didn’t have the visual of Sebastian sitting in the chair like a king and Sam sitting on his lap, his hole filled with three of Sebastian’s fingers and his mouth with his tongue. They’re sloppy kissing and needy; giving little wet flashes of tongue every few seconds.
Lord, but they look delicious. All needy and eager and oh-so-pretty. Of course Clint and his friend would have taken notice of them. They feel like the antithesis to those lithe, pretty young men standing just off to the side, looming and dark and feeling like they don’t belong there.
Heisenberg certainly doesn’t belong and Farmer had been so sure that the bastard had left the Valley for good… it seems like a daydream – or more like a nightmare – to be seeing him standing there now; tall and imposing and stupidly handsome. Unselfconsciously watching Sebastian and Sam. Enjoying the show they put on for their audience, though Farmer is not entirely sure they even realize that they are having an audience.
Clint looks dazed, his round face flushed and glistening with sweat, one hand underneath the heavy apron he always wore. He’s jerking his cock, that much is obvious, and Farmer is almost reluctant in that he is interested in it. Clint got a nice cock. Short but fat. Farmer remembers it well and the longer he spends in the Community Center, the hornier he becomes. It’s entirely unreasonable.
Especially when Heisenberg turns his head a little toward him and grins at him with a corner of his mouth. His sulfur eyes are peering at him from over the rim of his dark glasses. He does not look quite as dazed as everybody else does; like whatever magic has befallen the Community Center, Heisenberg is not in its grasp. Not entirely.
As he stares at Farmer, he reaches out and clasps one huge hand around the back of Sam’s neck. He squeezes slow and methodical and Sam makes a sound like he is dying. All choked off and jittery and needy as his hips stutter and he awkwardly rides Sebastian fingers and-
Farmer takes a single step forward, alarmed by Heisenberg touching what was his – but Rasmodius’ hand on his elbow stops him. He peers back at him and the Wizard shakes his head in a single horizontal motion. His face is solemn, eyes guarded as they flick back toward Heisenberg.
He tugs until Farmer relents and tilts his head toward Rasmodius’ mouth, the whiskers of his beard tickling against the shell of his ear.
“I am keeping an eye on him.”
Heisenberg’s smile widens. There is no way that he would be able to have heard the little whisper but he is acting as if he had, lifting his free hand and jauntily waving his fingers at Farmer while his other remains clasped on the nape of Sam’s neck.
“I’ll take good care of them,” he calls over, sulfur eyes glittering maliciously across the edge of his dark glasses. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Maybe I’ll be able to teach them a thing or two before entrusting them back into your capable hands.”
He slides his palm down from Sam’s neck and along the tantalizing dip of his spine. As Farmer watches with his throat feeling dry and tight, Sam whimpers and arches his back. His spine looks goddamn liquid when he does that. Arching out his ass and showing off how deep Sebastian’s fingers are inside his hole. How wet they glisten with lube.
How much thinner and paler they look against Heisenberg when his thick digits nudge up against Sebastian’s, rounding Sam’s wet rim and making him whine out a hoarse little sound of need.
He doesn’t know what disturbs him more: that Heisenberg is that close to Sam and Sebastian or that they look good together. He looks like a leather daddy about to play with his favorite set of twinks and goddamn Farmer is kind of interested in watching.
Kind of very interested. His cock is needy and standing at attention and Heisenberg’s grin becomes even fucking wider when he notices that. He is looking deranged. Like the cat that got the cream. As if, after everything was said and done, he got what he had been after the whole time.
Farmer grits his teeth and doesn’t protest it when Rasmodius pulls him back out of the room. This is his reward. He has to trust that both the wizard and the Junimo will make sure that nothing nefarious happens while he isn’t in the room.
Rasmodius makes a soft little sound in the back of his throat. Pleased. He glances back at Farmer with a look softer than anything he had given him yet and realizes that once again the wizard is fucking around in his head without him realizing it.
He schools his features into a frown but he can’t help a little warm prickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly has to think about their first encounter. Rasmodius temporarily giving him a cunt to fuck him, and how overwhelming and exciting that had been.
And how he can’t of wants that to happen again.
Rasmodius glances back again, his expression less pleased this time. He looks borderline angry if not for the small spots of color appearing on his cheekbones just above the thick line of his beard.
“None of that now. I will not indulge in you today. Or… not in this place. The arcane energies are not in a mood to dance to my song.”
Farmer blinks slowly. He has no idea what that means but he’s gotten really used to just following along and not asking so many questions.
The sight in the main area of the Community Center has changed in the scant few minutes that they had been in the treasury.
Pierre and Morris are still frozen to statues in a timeless angry snarl, but way more people have started taking notice and came into the room.
Kent and Elliott and Harvey have migrated toward a corner with plush seats. Kent has planted his sweaty ass thankfully on a towel and Harvey is sitting on his lap. Probably not quite of his own accord, but he’s not fighting anybody, despite how desperately hot his face looks and how much his moustache is quivering in anxiety.
His legs are spread and one of his hands is awkwardly hiding his cunt from view. Farmer can only imagine Kent’s fat cock lodged inside it nice and deep. Maybe with a few more minutes of being speared on it and seeing that nobody actually gives a fucking damn, Harvey will relax enough to let himself have a bit of fun.
Gus has apparently shaken off his brief stupor from the community kitchen and has found his way in here as well because he is kneeling on a cushion close to the reinstated fish tank and is sucking Willy off. Farmer has no idea where the old coot had been the whole time but he is fairly happy to see him enjoying himself.
He had seemed… lonely when he had dealt with him, and he had meant to have another little liaison with the old guy but it somehow simply never came to be.
Gus is looking good; all naked and with his heavy stomach proudly on display, resting on the tops of his thick thighs. Willy keeps petting his round cheeks and his thick, well-kept moustache like he’s entranced by it or something. Maybe it tickles in his bushy pubes, Farmer doesn’t know – but he sure as Hell would like to find out one of these days because Gus looked like he was having the time of his life.
Shane and Demetrius and Alex and Caroline are still there as well and now Linus has appeared. His whole face is absolutely beaming contentment and Farmer has never before seen him so absolutely happy as he looks around with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes and fucks Alex across one of the armchairs. Farmer catches Linus’ eyes and almost laughs when the old guy pauses and lifts his hand and waves at him.
Unlike everybody else there is nothing dreamy about him. No slight sheen over his eyes that says that he is under the influence of the magic the Junimo have left for Farmer. In Farmer’s opinion it looks like he is completely in his own mind and simply enjoys the absolute debauchery going on around him and… honestly?
Fucking good for him. Farmer grins back and finally lifts his head for a little wave back. Why shouldn’t they just enjoy themselves? It’s a goddamn party!
Rasmodius claps him on the back. His expression, when Farmer turns to peer at him, is as unreadable as ever, but he thinks that he looks pleased.
Mayor Lewis wanders in from the hallway of the community kitchen, stark naked and sporting an eager, bobbing erection as he lifts his hands and announces: “I am glad you all could make it! We have one final disagreement to settle – and who better for that than our dear Farmer that has already done so much for us?”
Farmer blinks slowly. He watches as Rasmodius lifts a hand and snaps his fingers – and suddenly the peaceful, horny space of the Community Center is filled with the angry bickering of Pierre and Morris.
They move as if they had never been frozen in time, standing a scant arm’s length apart, their hands curled into fists and faces flushing a darker red as they talk over each other.
Farmer can only make out snippets. “My customers” and “no MY customers” and “the branch official will hear of this” and “the branch official has no jurisdiction over the decision of our town”.
It’s a lot of posturing and a lot of cockfighting for two men that have had no dealings in the actual decision of the future of the Community Center and it immediately bores Farmer nearly to tears.
“Gentlemen!”
The Mayor has his arms still lifted as he steps toward Pierre and Morris. The two have threateningly stepped closer to each other but now turn their heads a little to peer at Lewis.
Farmer can see a second of dumb confusion startling the both of them when they see the Mayor stark naked. Pierre begins to stutter while Morris starts to finally peer around the room, noting the little groups of people openly fucking; naked and sweaty and filling the air of the room with the thick smell of sex.
“What… is happening here?” he whispers, horrified. Rasmodius snaps his finger again and Farmer can watch in real time as Morris’ gaze begins to cloud over in the same manner of the rest of the town.
“Mayor, what is the meaning of this?” Pierre wheezes. Caroline steps closer. She has unbuttoned her blouse and Farmer almost misses what she is saying in favor of staring at her tits; large and pale and drooping a little under their own magnificent weight and after breastfeeding Abigail all those years ago.
He almost misses her chastising him.
“Oh, just get with the programm, Pierre.”
“The… the programm? I… Caroline!” He lifts his hand, clutching at his chest as he sees his wife’s state of undress. Farmer can’t help but think it’s weirdly cute; how he’s all but clutching his pearls, his eyes about to pop out of his skull while Morris is stumbling over his own clothes as he dreamily starts to get naked.
She is frowning at him tightly and looks seconds from grabbing the nearest object and hurling it at his head. Farmer is nervously looking around what might be the projectile of choice when Morris suddenly straightens from pushing down his pants to his ankles and throws an arm out, pointing imperiously at Pierre.
“I will be better than you!”
Pierre startles, gaze flicking away from Caroline’s breasts – he looks like he hasn’t seen those in years, and the thought amuses and weirdly arouses Farmer – and glances toward Morris.
“What are you on about… now… what the fuck.” Pierre’s whole face scrunches up. He flushes red hot in such an impressive amount of time that Farmer is surprised he doesn’t faint.
Pierre’s mouth opens, closes, opens again, stares at Morris’ cock lifting eagerly from the thatch of black hair, then finally starts to look around the room as a whole and seems to be understanding what is going on.
By the time he turns back toward Farmer and Rasmodius, his glasses have fogged up quite a bit. He pulls them off with an angry snarl and starts to clean them. Farmer notices that his hands are shaking as he does so, his face still almost painfully red.
“What have you done?” he asks Rasmodius in a very accusatory tone. Morris is the one who answers, though. He takes a step forward and out of his pants. He’s still wearing his boots which makes it look a little ridiculous but his expression is intense as he stabs his finger into Pierre’s chest.
“I. Will. Be. Better. Than. You.”
“What are you on about?” Pierre hisses again, slapping the hand away. He’s flustered and off kilter and when he puts his glasses back on his nose Farmer can see how his pupils are dilating and contracting wildly as the magic starts to finally settle across him as well. He must be fighting its influence, but from the way his shoulders begin to sag, he seems to be fighting a losing battle.
Rasmodius is very quiet next to Farmer. His hand had been on the nape of his neck but is now sliding down his spine and then settling at the small of his back. His warmth is seeping into Farmer’s skin immediately and makes him aware of the low arousal that had been simmering through his blood for quite a while now. His cock starts to lift a little, interested at finally getting an opportunity to shine. Maybe.
Pierre is getting pulled under the spell rapidly. Farmer thinks one could probably calculate it in relation to how fast he is starting to peel out of his own clothes now. People are starting to get interested as the argument shifts from ‘who has the more right to the customers’ to ‘who can fuck better’.
Farmer watches, mildly intrigued as to how they want to measure something like that. Rasmodius’ fingers are slipping further down into the soft fur at the top of his crack, so blond that it barely visible, then further down to spread his otherwise shaved cheeks enough for access to his hole.
He can hear him murmur something; too soft underneath the angry voices of Pierre and Morris to actually make out. It probably isn’t even a language Farmer can understand, though; in the next moment, the fingers idly prodding at his rim are wet and cold and just hook into his body like they belong there.
His muscles open up eagerly, well trained after years of use. Farmer’s torso tilts forward, his feet shuffling further apart. A groan rumbles somewhere at the base of his throat. Rasmodius knuckles roughly into his walls, pushing them further apart. He’s not looking for Farmer’s prostate… yet, but he doesn’t need to. Not right now. The air is thick and smells of sex and the Junimo magic keeps tickling across his skin, making it feel tighter and more sensitive than it has any right to be, honestly.
From somewhere behind him he can hear Sam and Sebastian mewling like sex kittens. He startles halfway out of the horny daze his mind is settling into, wondering if they’re okay with Heisenberg (and Clint) but ultimately getting swept up in the horny energy around him.
Pierre and Morris are nearly touching their foreheads together, growling like animals. For a moment Farmer couldn’t say whether they would start making out aggressively or begin punching each other.
Rasmodius intervenes before either can happen, his voice smooth and his finger so, so insistent as they hook and effortlessly press up against Farmer’s prostate, lighting his whole world up in colorful lights while sensation ricochets through his stomach and tightens his muscles pleasurably.
“Gentlemen. Why not settle this disagreement before it can grow… out of proportions.”
Pierre and Morris stop in their tracks to do… whatever it is they were about to engage in and turn to stare at the wizard. There’s little to no understanding in their glassy eyes. Rasmodius knuckles into Farmer’s muscles again, almost violently stretching his rim for a second that makes stars explode behind Farmer’s eyelids and has his mouth falling open on a low, groaning sigh.
“I have the perfect battleground for you right here. Whoever can make this slut come faster, wins. It is easy, is it not? I even have a stop watch…”
Farmer whines through his teeth, lust and humiliation twisting up into a swirling, hot cocktail right in his stomach. Whenever he is about to rub enough brain cells together to complain, however, Rasmodius presses back into his prostate again, shattering what he can piece back together of his resolve.
Pierre and Morris look stunned. Rasmodius slowly slides his fingers out of Farmer.
“Kneel,” he orders and Farmer goes down without a thought in his blissfully empty head. Heat subsumes him. He wonders if it stems from the magic swirling all around him, from the many bodies that are rubbing and fucking and thrusting, or from his own debauched mind. He feels untethered but in a good way. The best way, even.
He feels safe with Rasmodius right there to quietly oversee. It also feels familiar in a way that he does not want to poke at too much. He is pretty sure the wizard has been watching him for most of his exploits but he does not want to ask. He does not think he would get a straight answer anyway.
Farmer is on his knees, yes, but nobody needs to tell him what to do now.
He is a professional, after all.
He tilts forward until his shoulders finally hit the ground as well and he can reach back to grab his cheeks and spread them wide with both hands.
“Please,” he groans. “In here. Don’t care who goes first.”
Someone groans as well and he can’t tell who it is. He feels the people in the room start to creep closer and closer still. Their bodies radiate an impossible heat. Farmer is starting to sweat. He opens his mouth, tongue softly lolling out, insides squeezing and dipping in on themselves. They feel liquid hot. He kind of wishes Rasmodius had given him a cunt again just so he has even more holes that can be filled and fucked.
Finally Morris has pity on him. Or probably he is too eager to prove himself. Or maybe he simply got a big fat load waiting just for Farmer after weeks and months of not having a hole to pump one out into.
Something like that, maybe? Farmer isn’t too sure. It also doesn’t matter. Not when Morris fucks into him in two hurried, bone shaking thrusts that have Farmer’s teeth click together uncomfortably.
His cock is long and kind of skinny. It reaches nice and deep. Farmer clenches desperately around him and the noise Morris produces is somewhere between human and canine. Not much of both but it gets Farmer going anyway.
Morris’ arms come up to curl around Farmer’s middle. He hugs him like an ape as his hips start rabbiting and- fuck. Fuck. Farmer’s arms shoot out to stretch out in front of him and brace himself against the slick underground of the perfectly waxed Community Center floor so he wouldn’t get shoved around like a cheap slut.
Rasmodius had fingered him and he’s an old hand at getting cocks shoved up his ass, but there is something mind bending about getting forced open around a dick, no matter how slender it might be.
His mouth falls open, soft grunts being pushed out of him with every single one of Morris’ fast, rabbiting thrusts.
He had not thought that he would ever be in the position of getting his hole speared open by the guy, but life has a way of winding and twisting that makes him feel positively whimsical in the moment.
“What are you doing?! You won’t make him come like that!”
Farmer blinks, half startled out of his haze by the nagging sound of Pierre’s voice. The other is standing at Farmer’s head, though when he awkwardly twists his head up to look, he does not seem interested in a blow job. He’s got his hand around his cock and a pinched look of concentration on his face as he watches Morris breed Farmer.
“You don’t… you don’t have a clue how to-” Morris has to pause, gasping in air, cock flexing inside the slick, gripping passage he’s inside. Farmer dreamily rubs his cheek against his bicep, thoughts floaty and soft. In his opinion, Morris is seconds from pumping out his load so maybe it’s a good thing that Pierre actually stepped in and distracted him from chasing his bliss. As annoying as that voice is when it washes over him while he’s trying to get his rocks off.
“I bet it has been years since your wife let you anywhere near her pussy!”
It’s weirdly startling to hear Morris say the word ‘pussy’. Someone in their audience makes a choked off sound; somewhere between a shocked little gasp and an amused snort. Farmer blinks slowly. Morris’ cock might not be the best he’s ever had, but the fast rabbit humps did start to get his belly all hot and needy and his own cock is flexing all lazy and interested.
He kind of wants more of it, but Morris and Pierre seem more interested in their little pissing contest.
Pierre sounds like he is choking on his own tongue, spluttering, flushing red hot and still holding his cock in a white knuckled, desperate grip.
“How dare you- Of course I have- This is preposterous-”
Caroline smoothly interrupts her husband’s spluttering. She’s leaning on Alex, her hand feeling up the hard planes of his abs almost absent-mindedly as she fixes Pierre with an unimpressed look.
“Don’t lie, dear. Go on and admit it. I haven’t let you fuck me since I got pregnant with Abigail.”
There’s a tittering going through their audience. Nobody looks surprised in the least. Farmer wonders just how many of their cocks Caroline has been bouncing on in the past almost twenty years.
He can’t quite wrap his head around it. He can’t wrap his head around Pierre being denied for so fucking long. It’s weirdly erotic to think about how dominant Caroline is.
Pierre looks mortified. His body can’t seem to decide whether to go pale or flush with humiliation, so his skin becomes splotchy instead. It does not take away from his erection, though. Farmer is staring at it. It looks thicker than Morris’, though not by much.
“You can start criticizing my performance once I have seen yours,” Morris decides with a self-satisfied little chuckle that shouldn’t be as erotic as it is. It isn’t erotic, but Farmer’s standards are low and he knows it. He just wants more dick. He wants Morris to focus back on fucking him and try to rabbit thrust him into the ground.
However, the two still seem more interested in arguing with each other, leaving Farmer spread on cock and yet unsatisfied. How… irksome.
He frowns and uses his inner muscles to squeeze down harder on Morris’ cock. At least it gets the guy to stutter and halt mid-rant, the arm he’s had outstretched to imperiously point at Pierre, faltering and going somewhat slack.
Farmer slowly starts moving himself if Morris isn’t going to put in the work. He beds his head on one of his biceps and starts to fuck himself on the long, slender dick. The crown, now that it is inside him, feels curiously pointed and when he arches his back just so he can make it rub up against his prostate in a way that has goosebumps racing along his spine and fire break out prickling and comfortable underneath his skin.
“What is this? This is against the rules that have been decided on! You are supposed to make him climax, not he himself! Referee! I… I mean uh… Ras…modius?”
Pierre’s rant peters out as he gets unsure how to talk to Rasmodius who has been deathly quiet the whole time. Farmer wants to twist his head to look at him and see his expression but he is grabbed by the hips and stilled, derailing his meandering, arousal-thick thoughts.
Morris finally starts fucking him again. Maybe to make sure that Pierre has no grounds on which to argue with the results. He’s not sure. He doesn’t care.
All he cares about is that he is finally getting fucked again and that it lights up his nerve endings and makes his toes roll; no matter that he has to keep his back twisted at an awkward angle so Morris will fuck up against his prostate. No matter that there is no finesse, no real rhythm, no change in pace to keep things interesting. To keep him on his toes.
It doesn’t matter because Farmer is a slut and he does not need more than the bare minimum to get pushed over the edge.
His mouth falls open, low gasps forced out of him almost against his will. His voice is climbing higher and higher as an orgasm encroaches from the edges of his awareness. Wonderful bliss is just around the corner. His eyes roll up into his skull.
There’s a firework setting off low in his belly and his ears are filled with the static of orgasm crawling through his system while his muscles contract and fire licks up his spine.
Someone grabs him around the hips and starts to pull, bullying him to twist and turn on his back and fuck, he’s not ready to move yet. He groans, sluggish, legs prickling and on the verge of falling asleep. He shakes his head, but mostly just to snuggle into his arms while he coasts on the feeling of his release.
They are not relenting, though, pushing and pulling harder until he finally topples over onto his side with an explosively groaned “Fuuuuck!”.
He throws an arm across his eyes, then peers down from underneath. It’s Pierre, of course. He probably grabbed Morris by the arm as soon as the first ropes of cum hit the ground to pull him out and replace him.
But then again… Morris must have come at some point as well because Farmer’s hole is wet and sloppy and warm.
His cock is still pudgy and red, drooling out the last vestiges of cum which it lies in like a drunk bastard after a night at a bar.
Pierre has a determined look on his face, pulling Farmer’s legs up and onto his shoulders. Farmer whines through clenched teeth when the maneuver lifts his hips up and he is pulled onto Pierre’s lap.
When he glances around from underneath the darkness that his arm affords him, he can see that all the others have circled them now; naked and flushed and eager. He wants to beg someone to fuck his mouth. Maybe have Gus sit his fat ass down on his face?
Pierre pushes in. He pulls a face and whines: “Guh, it’s so messy!”
“Get a grip, Pierre,” Caroline hisses.
Someone else, he thinks it might be Willy, sighs wistfully: “Wouldn’t mind changing places with you, lad. Been known to love myself some sloppy seconds in my day. Nothing better than gliding in on some nice, warm load another fella was kind enough to leave behind.”
“I mean, I guess,” Pierre mutters petulantly. He starts to thrust despite his misgivings. With how he has Farmer in his lap, there is not much space he can work with, so he just bucks in hard over and over again, knocking the breath right out of Farmer’s stuttering lungs and renewing the warmth that has started to fizzle out along his nerve endings. “It’s just messy. And I don’t really like that it’s his load. Disgusting.”
“You can just stop if you don’t like it,” Morris pipes up from somewhere. “You’ll never get him to come faster anyway. There’s no finesse in your thrusts.”
“What does that even mean?!”
“He’s right though,” someone murmurs contemplatively. There’s an easy back-and-forth starting up with people chiming in and Pierre getting more and more flustered.
Farmer can feel his agitation in his goddamn cock when it kicks every time someone insults his performance, and it starts to dawn on him that Pierre enjoys this. That after years of essentially getting cucked by his wife he’s grown to get addicted to the abuse.
Farmer’s mouth slowly splits into a breathless grin. He reaches down, slowly curling his hand around his cock to help it along, ignoring Morris’ high-pitched hiss of it not being fair.
“Fuck, you’re really bad at this,” he groans explosively and everyone suddenly falls silent. He can feel their eyes on him. Assessing. Like they’ve forgotten he was even there. Like in their eyes he’s just become a warm, living cocksleeve and fuck, that’s also really hot.
Heat explodes in the small of his back and his toes curl where they are bouncing in the air, legs still on Pierre’s shoulders.
His hand curls tighter around his cock, holding it in a chokehold. “You reach so deep but you keep not hitting my damn prostate, what is up with that?”
Farmer’s voice squeaks into a higher register at the end as Pierre suddenly and unexpectedly bucks upward, jolting Farmer’s whole body. It jostles a groan out of him. His stomach lurches, heat sparking up along his nerve endings and settling in a prickling ball at the base of his skull.
“Yeah, fuck,” he gasps, eyes staring blearily at the ceiling of the Community Center, barely aware of the people around them as he just lets his mouth run. “You fuck like you never had your dick in a cunt before. No wonder your wife wouldn’t let you tap it if you treated her like that. Maybe I’ll need to draw you a map or something. You think you could work with tha-a-AT?”
The last word rattles out of his throat as Pierre suddenly rears up onto his knees and rolls Farmer almost into a ball. His eyes are wide open and intense, staring down at Farmer as he starts to fuck, his hands around his hips, gripping bruises into his skin.
Farmer almost bites his tongue, his knees sliding off of Pierre’s shoulders and closer toward his own, further folding himself in half as Pierre stares down with a bright red face where he drives into Farmer. Watching himself fuck another person. Might be novel enough, who the fuck knew? Farmer certainly got turned on by the thought that he’s the first pussy Pierre has had in almost two fucking decades oh my God. Arousal kicks up his spine and travels down his legs into his flexing, desperate toes. He feels like he’s about to loose feeling in his lower extremities but he’s also shamefully too turned on to do anything about it. He can’t believe that Pierre is getting him there. How inadvertently it might be.
Pierre, for his part, is not saying anything. He’s not denying it. Not telling Farmer to go to fucking Hell and where he can shove that map of his. He’s just taking the verbal abuse and getting more and more riled by it the more he’s being told what an utter failure in bed he really is and… fuck. That really is hot.
“You’re so fucking bad at this.” It explodes out of him all of a sudden, belying how he struggles to arch his spine as his breath comes in short little puffs because he can’t help it when he’s getting fucked. He can see an orgasm approaching and he almost wants to claw his way in the other direction. Make it chase him. Make it harder on Pierre, just because. “I have to do all the work.”
“What?” Pierre hisses back. His face is wet with sweat, his glasses fogged up but slipped down his nose enough that Farmer can see the glassy look in his eyes. “You’re just lying there!”
Farmer grins. His teeth are clacking together because Pierre is fucking him with more desperation. More force. He’s trying to grunt fuck Farmer into the ground and he’s so bad at it, but it does have the added bonus of his hips noisily slamming against Farmer’s backside.
He likes the background noise that it gives. He likes how wet they sound; the plap plap plaps that make tingling sensations race up his arms and get his fingertips all numb. He finally takes his arm away from his face and openly stares at Pierre.
He tries to school his expression into uncaring indifference but is not all that sure that he manages. His cheek keeps jumping, his tongue keeps wanting to push out of his mouth so he can pant like a dog in heat as he gets railed.
“Dunno. Looks like he’s doing a lot of work.”
That voice is new. Farmer glances up and behind Pierre to meet Alex’ gaze of all things. Electricity rattles through him, lighting his brain up in all kinds of areas, eyes feeling wide and yet unseeing as he just stares at Alex.
The other’s face is mostly blank. He looks like he isn’t practically naked in the middle of the rest of the town’s folk. Like Caroline isn’t hanging off his arm, simpering and trying to get him to fuck her with his fat jock dick.
When he notices Farmer looking at him, his expression changes and becomes more familiar. Sharp and mean and cocksure because he’s hot and he knows it.
“You’re just coasting on another dude’s work. He’s already riled up like fuck and all wet.”
“Right?!” Morris interrupts, voice going high-pitched in his excitement. “This is not a fair competition at all! I did all the legwork!”
“I mean… he is pretty useless,” Caroline says slowly, thoughtfully.
Pierre makes a sound like he is about to die. Farmer stares at him, mouth hanging open. There are actual goddamn tears of humiliation in his eyes and shit. Shit, that’s hot.
His orgasm starts in his toes. It’s not creeping up on him like last time; it’s looming over him, standing behind Pierre and staring down on him with a wide, feral grin. It grabs him by the shoulders and slams him down into the ground, keeping him unable to do a damn thing.
It only gets more violent when he hears Pierre answer. He doesn’t hear the exact words but he hears the whiney, petulant cadence of it – and Farmer is off. He cries out, hoarse and rough, vocal chords straining to try and give any kind of meaning to what he is feeling as this orgasm manhandles him through the motions. It has him by the goddamn balls, digging in like it wants to squeeze the cum out of his body.
His cry goes strangled at the end, high pitched, his thighs shaking when the orgasm quickly turns from nice but rude to overwhelming and low-key painful. It’s too soon after the last one, but apparently not too soon for him to produce a surprising amount of cum still.
It puddles in the fold of his belly between his thighs, all the air squeezed out of his lungs when he loses tension in his muscles and his knees nearly hit his shoulders. He’s folded together like a paper bag, tears of overstimulation and lack of oxygen itching at the corners of his eyes.
He closes them.
When Farmer opens them back up, Alex, Gus and Willy are leaning over him with varying degrees of worry and amusement etched on their faces. Someone had the good thinking of finally unfolding him from his little boxed position but nobody has actually cleaned him off.
Farmer blinks slowly.
“Uh… what?”
“Oh good, he’s alive,” Alex mutters. It sounds only half genuine, his thick brows pulled together in worry. The pinch on his face relaxes now, though, and he stands up straighter.
“He’s alive!”
“Well of course he is?” Harvey answers a bit confused from the sidelines. “I was monitoring him the whole time. Would you please… ah, let me.” Harvey shuffles close and crouches next to Farmer. He’s pulled on some shorts and an undershirt, Farmer notes, while everybody else is still stark naked. So he probably hadn’t been out for that long.
He’s offered something to drink and he takes it gladly. While he carefully sits up even further and takes stock of how his legs and hips ache comfortably and how he’s still messy with cum – so he must not have been out that long – he takes slow, measured sips under Harvey’s scrutinizing gaze.
“So,” he says finally, eyes taking in how most of the action has once again moved toward the corners of the room, “who won?”
Gus chortles and Willy answers with a snicker.
Farmer keeps letting his gaze aimlessly wander about, noting that Rasmodius was no longer anywhere to be seen.
From the corner of his eyes he notes Sam and Sebastian emerging from a side hallway. They’re leaning on each other and their legs look shaky like newborn fawns’, but they are grinning – even Sebastian – and look fucked out. Not worse for wear, that’s for sure.
Sam is the first to notice him and his eyes light up like the goddamn Golden Retriever that he is. He indicates Farmer to Sebastian and Sebastian frowns, obviously confused as to why Farmer is sitting on the floor.
As Farmer glances around, wondering where Kent had went – wouldn’t that be awkward? But he and Elliott are nowhere to be seen, probably having wandered back into one of the other rooms – the two step up toward them.
“Yo… What’s up?” Sam’s grin hooks deeper into his cheeks, making them dimple. He’s almost unfairly handsome.
“We were just about to tell Farmer here about the outcome of the little bet,” Gus announced, large hand clapping down friendly on Farmer’s shoulder.
“Bet?” the two echo in wildly different tones of voices. Sam looks excited for some reason, Sebastian is frowning again. It’s an odd look for sure, especially since they’re both still stark naked. They’re so unselfconscious about it – everybody is – that it has to do with the Junimo magic.
“Who could make Farmer come faster – Morris or Pierre?” Gus’ moustache is trembling with excitement while the two young men look increasingly confused after all.
Farmer gives the almost finished bottle of water back to Harvey, then extends both his arms. Sam and Sebastian grab them to help him up on his feet.
He can feel himself flush up to his ears as the absolute mess left inside him starts to trickle down the insides of his thighs. His cock, although spent, tries to valiantly twitch back to life.
“The winner iiiis…” Gus looks like he is thoroughly enjoying dragging it out. There’s a flush crawling down his throat and toward his chest which is covered in a thick layer of hair that Farmer keeps staring at. He wants to fuck him again; but maybe he should wait to be completely sure of his limbs before…
Willy suddenly grins. It makes him look surprisingly boyish. “Pierre,” he announces. Gus looks happy enough, not bothered that someone else took it out of his hands. “It’s a full victory for our little valley.”
“Where are they now?” Farmer asks, feeling weirdly pleased about the whole situation.
“Ah, well… he and Morris immediately launched into more arguments, so the old fellow and the Mayor took them outside to cool their heads,” Gus answers, scratching at his jaw and producing a rough scratching sound in the process.
“Can… someone explain to me what’s been going on?” Sebastian finally butts in carefully. He looks like he’s torn between actually wanting to know and rather not sticking his nose into it.
Willy chuckles. He is eying the two young men with an eager glint in his eyes.
“Oh, ol’ Willy can tell you all about it, lads. Why don’t we all sit down? Got some perfectly fine thighs for you two gentlemen.”
Farmer grins crookedly as he sees twin expressions of intrigue. They actually start to trail after Willy, leaving Farmer standing in the middle of the room for now. He slowly turns around to oversee the room again; bright and clean and homey looking now that the Junimo have worked their magic.
And he is… responsible for that. He does not know why they decide on him specifically, but things have just kept neatly falling into place one by one.
Makes him almost feel like his good old grandpa had been planning on something like this all along.
Insane.
Farmer looks over when he feels Gus’ large, warm hand in the small of his back. Gus watches him with jovial interest and Farmer can feel that warm kindling in his stomach igniting.
He’s more than happy to ride out this magic for as long as it will go.
THE END <3
