You’re my Redneck – Part 2
After a long drive, Cletus and you finally arrive back home. As he pulls up the rocky driveway, you accidentally drop one of your chicken wings on your chest causing you to also get hot sauce on your furry pelt in the process. You quickly picked it up and continue eating it anyway despite the hairs.
“Dang, ya musta bin starvin. Yer belly’s more fatter than a pig after suppa,” remarks Cletus as he parks the truck and turns it off.
Indeed, it just occurs to you how huge your stomach is. All the buttons of your flannel shirt already gave way as it could no longer sustain your larger ball gut; hell, the shirt looks smaller on you in general. You must’ve felt tightness earlier seeing how your belt was already loose. You glance around and realize you ate the entire bucket of hot wings and 3/4ths of your pizza; you even secretly stuffed a couple of Cletus’s breadsticks down your throat when he wasn’t looking. It’s strange though how none of this surprises you. Everything feels so ordinary… so… normal. You guess stuffing yourself full of pizza and whatnot all these years hasn’t done you any good. You hoist your cola, twist open the top and start chugging it once again before bellowing out a long drawn out belch towards Cletus’s face.
“Ergh,” he moaned as he pushes you away, “Yer breath stinks man. Don’tchew be doin that shit…”
“Heh, thas fer callin me ‘n idjit from before ya mule,” you retort as you lick the hot sauce from your mustache. You set your pizza box on the car dashboard and exit the truck. Finally back on your own 2 feet, you take a long soothing stretch, inhale a big stench of the fresh mountain air, and scratch under your pot belly. Unfortunately, right afterwards though, Cletus suddenly began to cough uncontrollably. You quickly turn your head to find your partner in pain with his eyes closed, bent over, and his hand around his neck. “Whas wrong, Clee!?”, you panic as you swiftly walk around the truck towards him. He uses an inhaler that he pulled from his pocket but drops it as soon as he discovers it empty. With no other choice, Cletus frantically points towards the shack. “Take *COUGH**COUGH* Take me *COUGH**COUGH**COUGH*”, he distressed as he continued to gasp for air. “*COUGH* Hur..ry.*COUGH**COUGH**.” His coughing was getting louder.
You were completely flabbergasted as you didn’t know what was going on. This man, who completely changed your life, is calling out for your help. You wanted to do something but.. but… Just then, something instantly snaps within you and you slap yourself. “What da hale’s wrong wit’ me,” you say as you recollect your thoughts. You (somehow) remember his chronic asthma and quickly proceed to help him up, aid him inside to the bedroom, and gently sit him on the Mattress. Afterwards you swiftly turn towards the dresser, locate his extra inhaler amidst the pile of trash, set it up, and proceed to put it in his mouth. Cletus follows through and inhales 2 long doses while you delicately rub his back. “Everythangs gun be ahright lil’ bubba. Ah’m heer wit ya’s.” Cletus coughs again and inhales another application. “Ya feelin any better?” you ask as you clutch his right shoulder with your hand.
“Ah’m ahright…,” he mumbled. He paused for a bit as he notices your voice was beginning to crack. “Ah real ‘preciate ya help.”
“Shoot, dat’s wha’ pals are for right?” You wrap your right arm around the back of his neck and pull him closer. “As long as ah’m heer, aint nutin gun happen to ya.”
The feeling of being under your strong musky arms reminded him too much of the good ol’ days. He leans his head on your right shoulder, wraps his left arm around the back of your waist, and places his other hand on top of your hefty ball belly. You returned the favor and move your nose against his neck while tickling him under his chin. Cletus started to giggle causing you to smirk, move against his neck some more, and increase the speed of your tickling. “Heheh, ahright ahright”, he laughs as he shoves your hand away from his chin. Cletus turns his head towards you as you raise your head up and look down at him.
“Dang, lil’ bubba’, yer so tiny,” you scoff as you firmly place your large hand on his scalp. “You be needin ta eat more them calsim (calcium).”
“Ah aint short man. Yer jus’ too dern tall… and heavy,” he implies while playfully rubbing your furry butterball of a stomach. Cletus gazes at your burly head and couldn’t believe how fast your transformation was progressing. Your facial hair was complete as a cute patch of hair now subsides under your lips, while your mustache and chops were now much thicker, longer, and messier. Your nose and nostrils became wide like his and even had a small dimple in the middle of it. Even your eyebrows arched more and became much bushier. At this point, both Cletus and you could already pass as brothers. He takes a big whiff of your intoxicating musk, leans over, and begins to slowly lick the hot sauce from your hairy chest.
“Um… eheh. Ah guess I am a lil’ soiled,” you embarrassingly smile before fiddling with the back of his head.
You didn’t seem to notice your raspy new voice. Cletus however, easily hears the difference and could no longer sustain himself upon hearing the voice of his dear brother he longed for. He passionately continues to work his tongue along your chest and onto your masculine gut. Even the bitter taste of your sweat and body hair was now that of his brothers. He persists to lick you clean while you close your eyes, tilt your head back, and exhale a long rugged moan filled with ecstasy. Mere words couldn’t describe how much you truly cared for this man. Upon reaching your hard crotch, Cletus lifts his head, opens his eyes, and pulls away as he is reminded your transformation, while much progressed, is still not complete.
“Sumthin tha matter?,” you ask as you lean your head back up.
“Ah can’t man… Ah be needn ta git ta work soon.” Although true, Cletus merely said this as an excuse to hide his real intentions.
“Ya work huh? Where at?”
“Ah’ma plumber. Ah run a plumbin' business.”
“Hmhm, ah could come pull sum pipes fer ya if’n ya want,” you smirk as you flex your hefty right arm.
“Naw, stay put n res yerself.” Cletus gets up and walks towards his red tool bag on the floor. “Before ah hitch out though, yer gunn havta git sum new wear.”
These clothes did awfully feel tight on you. You don’t recall ever putting these on or why you would even wear such small things. As Cletus searches, you pull off your flannel shirt and chuck it atop the bed. Next, you stand, and begin to fully un-strap your buckle and belt. Once done, you pull down the faded jeans and boxers before kicking them off to the side. With all remnants of your former clothing astray, besides your socks, you turn towards a lengthy mirror and in it stands a tall, stout, handsome man with the most endowed stomach your eyes has ever laid upon. You grin as you notice your old un-cut member became a hefty classic cut beer can. You honestly don’t think you’ve changed that much as most of everything else looks pretty normal to you. Cletus comes over to you with a tape measure as you turn to get a better look at yourself. “Ain’tju a purdy bear,” smiles Cletus as he slaps your butt cheek and stretch the measurer around your waist. “Looks like ya puddin’ on sum weight igin. Yer belly’s ‘bout 50 ½ inches.”
“Well shucks, Ah didn know it was that much. Whas yer waist size?”
“’Bout a good 45. Enahways, Ah thank ya might wan settle down on dem Pizza Hut next time buddy.” He tosses the tape measure back into his bag while you head towards the dresser, open the top left drawer, and begin searching for something to put on. “Whatju messin wit?” asks Cletus as he picks up your former dirty clothing.
You find and pull out a large brown-leathered spiked collar. As soon as he seen it, Cletus quickly charges over and snatches it from your hand.“Dem yers?”
“Uh… um, yeah…,” he mumbled with a highly embarrassed look on his face. “Here, lemme gitcha sumthin.” He opens another drawer and tugs out wide gray boxer-briefs. “Aren’t these whatcha lookin fer?”
“Dem mine?”
“Course dem yers. Ya had’em for a cuppa years now. Ketch.”
He tosses you the familiar looking undergarment and you examine it more closely. Although clean, it’s very aged as the straps were damaged and had stretch holes at the sides of it. Even so, you sit on top the mattress and slide it over your hairy legs. You then stand and finish up.
“Here,” said Cletus as he tosses you a tank top.
You flesh it out and instantly recognize it as your old camo top you lost some time ago. “Hey, ah was lookin’ fer this,” you happily smile.
“Fount it not too long igo in tha closet.”
“Thanks lil’ bubba! Ah owe ya sum.” You quickly put it on and try to pull it down over your hefty stomach as much as you could. You were disappointed to find you out grew it now. Nevertheless, you’ll settle with the bottom of it resting a little over your belly button.
“Yer lookn’ mighty fine now,” smiles Cletus. “Ya know what, what evuh happn to yer cowboy hat?”
“Shucks, ah plumb gone forgot ‘bout it in mah locker.”
“Tell me yer code an’ ah’ll pick it up next time.”
You pause for a bit as you were unable to remember the code. To be honest, it feels like ages since the last time you went to school. “Sorr’ Clee. I ain’t got nutin.”
“Hmm, well… ah’ll thank of sumthin.” Cletus pulls out and glances at his cellphone. “Shoot, ah need ta be hettin’ out.
”
“When ya reckon you’ll be back?”
“Don’t know. ‘bout round nightfall.” Cletus puts on a brown baseball cap, grabs his bag of tools, a plunger, your keys, and a large rustic looking chest.
“Yous bes’ be careful now bubba. Don’t forgit yer halers (inhalers). Ah’ll be callin’ to check on ya’s every now and then.”
“Heheh, yer fixin’ ta sound like mah brother,” he purposely hints at as he grabs the inhaler from before.
“Wait a men-nit. What’s this bout a brother? I ain’t evuh knew ya had one.”
Cletus smirks. “Ah’ll tell ya more ‘bout it later. Come gimme a hand wit tha stuff in yer truck. Ah needa git gone.”
You got up and paused for a bit. Now that you think about it; you’ve been living with him for a while now and you never heard him mention anything about a brother. You really wanted to know more about this guy. “Have any pictures of ‘em or sumthin?,” you ask as the 2 of you head to the vehicle.
“Some, but ah can’t find any of’em.”
At the truck, Cletus puts his stuff in the back, grabs the empty chicken bucket and chucks it in the flat bed. Afterwards he and you take the rest of the stuff inside. Once done Cletus hurries back out and start the pickup. You meet up with him at the truck door.
“Ain’tchew gunn say bye to me boy?” you grin.
He jumps out and gives you a big hug while you also hold him tightly. You plant a quick pecker on his neck and say, “Ah love ya Clee. You have a nice evenin’ ahright?.”
“You to, man.” He pulls off you and jumps back in. “Well, I’ll see ya later on n’night. We’s gun have a real good time.”
“Ah’m lookin’ forward to it!”
You wave at him as he slowly backs the truck down the rocky hill. With your buddy gone, you guess it’s about time you catch up on more of those Jerry Springer episodes. You scratch your rear and head back inside.
*********************************************
While you check the frig out for a quick bite before the show, C.J. and his friends continue to travel to the tobacco store. Isaiah boringly watches the country scenery go by while Mark lies in the back playing a PSP. “You sure you’re goin’ the right way, man?,” whines Isaiah, “We’ve been out here for a minute.”
“Yeah, it’s just really far out. I’m going to have to stop for gas soon.”
As Isaiah was getting increasingly bored, he reaches over to his left and grabs the can of chaw from the middle armrest. It was a medium brown steeled can with a cartoon depicting a built cowboy on a horse on front. He flips it over and on the back read multiple warnings and a large catch phrase that says “Ain’t nothing like some good ol tobacco!” Isaiah then tosses it in his hand for a bit. “Has any of you guys ever chewed before?” he asks.
“Not me. Nicotine’s too detrimental to one’s health if used over long periods of time,” says C.J.
“I know you don’t man. You’re too much of a nerd.”
C.J’s is unaffected by his remark and continues to drive.
“How about you Mark?”
“Huh?,” he replied in a somewhat ignorant tone as he was too indulged in his game.
“You ever chewed black before?”
“No, my dad does though. It looks disgusting to me really.”
Isaiah opens the can and takes a good look at it. The scent was very minty and didn’t smell too bad. He scoops up some of the crunchy dark leafs and put it in his mouth. He chewed lightly for a bit before quickly pulling down the window and spitting it out in disgust.
“Dude, what are you doing? Don’t tamper with that stuff!” yells C.J.
Isaiah wipes his mouth with his back hand. “Shit’s disgusting. I see why the guy went out of business now.” He shut the can close and furiously tossed it back in the middle armrest.
“Wait. Dude, did he just try some of it?” asks a somewhat slow Mark. “Haha, so what was it like?”
“You try some and find out.”
“I’m not going to. That’s why I asked.”
“Well, at first it was a real crunchy, then it got really bitter, and it just got worst from there.” He pulls out a stick of Stride (Orange) Gum and places it in his mouth.
The trio then arrives at a gas station not to long afterward. C.J. pulls the car up to a pump and asks the others if they are coming in.
Isaiah brushes him off while Mark pockets his PSP and exits the car. “You straight man?,” Mark asks Isaiah.
“Yeah, I’m chill.”
“Well okay. If you leave, make sure you lock the door,” said C.J.
“Yeah yeah…”
As the 2 of them go inside, Isaiah decides to exit real quick and stretch. He looks around the deserted area and finds nothing but a large semi truck and a station wagon at the side of the store. “Man, we’re really out in the boonies.” He walks around the car to the pump to check out how old it looks. Afterwards, he goes and sits backs into the car while catching a large burly man exit the store and heads towards the semi. The sight of the man caused him to accidentally knock over the canned tobacco from the armrest. Annoyed, he sighs, bends over, and picks it up off the floor. He leers at the can in his palm and questioned why anyone would like this stuff. He admits the minty taste was alright but that bitterness was just… unbearable. Somehow though, a slight urge for a little more rings inside him. Figuring what the hell, he spits his gum out the window, opens the can, and scoops in just a little more than last time. The taste was just as horrible, but a lot more tolerable. The bitterness wasn’t really that bitter anymore as well. He figures it’s because his tongue was still a bit tart from last time. He scoops in a tad more and further shuffles the contents around in his mouth. Strangely, it tasted slightly better. He’s even… starting to like it a little. He was about to scoop in a little more, but stops himself and closes the can as he was afraid it’ll lead to addiction. The juice in his mouth was starting to build so he opens the door and spits some out. Nothing to it this time, but after a couple more spits, he was oddly starting to like that to. Getting a little wigged out, he left the car and spit the entire thing out in a nearby trash can. He then walks to a water fountain and gurgles the rest out. Once done, he walks back to the car and absentmindedly scratches the back of his neck.
Shifting back to when C.J. and Mark enters the store; as soon as they enter, they were greeted by a loud cheerful, “Howdy!” They turn their heads to see a frail old man standing behind what appears to be bulletproof glass. “Ann’thang ah could do fer yall?”
“Hey C.J., I’m going to hit the restroom.”
“Alright,” he says as Mark walked off.
While C.J. asks for gas, Mark attempts to open the door to the men’s room but is met by a big pot bellied man in gray plaid. He stares down and examines Mark for a bit. “Um, excuse me sir. You’re in the way,” says Mark.
“Oh...! Sorry kid,” he says as he walks off.
Mark pays no attention and enters the restroom. As soon as he enters, he was greeted with one of the most foulest odors imaginable. He covers his nose, lifts the only toilet seat, and finds the inside filled with shit and used toilet paper. He gags as he thought the last guy must’ve had bad diarrhea and flushes the toilet. Surprisingly, minus the bad smell and turd-filled toilet, the rest of the restroom was pretty clean.
As Mark unzips himself, the old man behind the front counter watches as C.J. pockets his change. “Not many city-folk come round these parts an’more,” he says.
“Oh really?” C.J. figures it would be a good time to ask about the store. “Say, would you happen to know of a store called Triple Crown Tobacco?”
“The Triple Crown, eh? Dert near evahone round heer knows ‘bout that hootinany. ‘Scuse mah French, but why’s a skinnah feller like you intrested in a bar like that?”
“Bar? What kind of bar is it?”
“Well shiet, you be bes not knowin’ then.”
“Um, okay. Do you know where it’s at?”
“Ah it jus’ a lil’ ways east from here on tha right,” he points, “There be a sign wit a bear claw out in front. Can’t miss it.”
“Seriously?” C.J. reaches his hand out under the glass. “Thanks for the help misterrr-”
“Phil,” he interrupts as he shakes his hand. “Jus’ call mahself Phil.”
“Heheh, Alright thanks Phil.”
“Nutin’ to it partner. Yous come by again next time ye heer?
With that, the old man rubs his gray beard as C.J. walks outside and catches Isaiah reentering the car. “I tell ya, it dert near harder to tell an’one from a fag these days,” says the old man as he sits down and watches the black and white T.V.
C.J. heads on over to the pump and taps Isaiah on the shoulder. “Hey, you’ll be glad to know the place isn’t too far from here now.”
“About time man. Where’s Mark at?”
C.J. opens the canister and begins pumping. “He’s in there using #1. He’ll be out in a second.”
Once done, he closes the canister and puts the pumper back on the stand. Mark then walks out and shakes his hand dry. “I’m glad I only took a piss guys ‘cause the fat guy before me used everything to clean his ass.
“Heheh, I bet it was horrible wasn’t it,” chuckled C.J as he enters the car.
“Ah duuude, that smell. I fucking raged man.” Mark opens the door and enters the back seat.
“Well, we’re almost there guys. I found out the place we’re going to is some bar of some sort.”
“Bar? What kind of bar would be way out here?,” ponders Isaiah.
“Don’t know, but we’re going to be finding out it in a bit.” C.J. starts the car and drives off eastward. Next stop, The Triple Crown.