Based on a true story.

Freshly out of the United States Marine Corps, I headed back home, expecting to be enveloped in the loving arms of my parents, brothers and sisters. When I arrived at my old abodes front door, I was greeted not by the warm embrace of those I most loved, but by a cold, unwelcoming plaster-grey piece of paper flapping in the breeze, taped onto the door with a message scrawled upon it. "We heard. We dont want to see you again. Go live with your uncle," is all it said. I stood there for a moment, dejected and saddened. Then I turned around and walked away into the bright, almost painful sunlight, to go visit my uncle.

It wasnt a long walk as he lived next door to my former home. I knocked on his door and was greeted by his unsmiling, stone-face. He said, "come in," an order I promptly obeyed. "You live with me now," he told me. "Your parents dont want to see you ever again. They heard about what you did and they have been shamed. They have given you to me until you can find a place for your own."

My uncle owned a farm, and I knew that I was going to be working for him for the next few months, or for however long it would take me to get out of there. And work I did. It wasnt fun and it wasnt easyand this is coming from somebody who was in the Marines. Shoveling cow crap, feeding horses and inseminating donkeys is never entertaining, no matter what one has done in the past.

And the worst part was, I did all the farm work alone. My uncle didnt do anything besides drive a tractor around all day and the only people who worked for him were Mexican migrants who didnt speak an ounce of English, so I was basically by myself the entire time. That is, until I met Jen.

I was working in the horse stall, breaking my back shoveling some hay from hither to thither. So intent on my task was I that I didnt notice the slender, near-porcelain figure creep up next to me. I only became cognizant of her presence when, in a voice only a beautiful Southern belle could produce, I heard someone say, "hey there."

Startled, I dropped my shovel and looked up, searching for the source of that all-too fleeting, somewhat ethereal voice. I found it when I saw that girl, that beautiful dame with a face that, for a moment seemed so familiar yet so foreign. "Uh, hey," I responded. "Im, uh, Brent."

"I know that, silly," she responded, giving me a playful shove. I nervously smiled in return.

"I heard about what happened to ya," she said in her incredible Texas accent. "Its a cryin shame."

"Yeah," I responded.

"It seems like they hand out dishonorable discharges to just about everyone these days, dont it?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied again.

Then I heard my uncle yell for her. "Jen!" he shouted, "I need you back at the house!" Ahhher name was Jen. My heart was taken.

Three days later, I was in my bedroom, stacking some animal figurines that my parents gave me when I was a boy. They reminded me of home, a place I so longed to visit once again. I just finished putting the cow figurine on my night stand when Jen walked into my room.

"Howdy partner," she said in a playful voice. I blushed, feeling my blood pressure jump.

"Uh, hey." I responded. I had been nervous since meeting her, but suddenly a jolt of bravado ran through my veins and I decided to say everything I felt about her. "Jen." I hesitated, "Jen, I know weve only seen each other once these past couple days, but, well..."

And with that I whipped out my three inch cock. Her gazed fixed upon it, she was enamored by its features. Then she spoke. "Thats impressive," she said, but Then she did something spectacular. She whipped out her eight inch cock.

I jumped back. She had a rooster figurine just like my dinky three incher, except hers was five inches longer. "Oh Jen, thats so great!" I exclaimed, joyous that we both had an affinity for animal statuettes. "But everything is all going so fast. Jen, I dont even know youIve never even seen you before!"

"What? You dont know me?" She responded, "Im your cousin, idiot. I just saw you three weeks ago, right before you joined the Marines."

"But your accent..."

"My accent?" she replied in some northeastern inflection, "jeez, I was just goofing with you, you retard."

Jen and I became good pals, working with each other on the farm, whiling away the time by discussing our favorite animal figurines. Seven years later, my parents finally let me move back in with them, as they had finally forgiven me for urinating in my sleeping superior's nostrils while at Marine boot camp.

The end.