Congratulations Rodeo Sam!

You’re a person named Sam who works at a rodeo. Seems pretty standard, right? But oh shit, there’s a catch! You’re a girl!

You’re a girl with a drinking problem and a burning itch to ride whatever comes your way, be it man, beast or some sort of man-beast hybrid created by a government sponsored scientist for military purposes. The last bit hasn’t happened yet, but you’d be open to it.

And you’re doing pretty well for yourself at it. You’ve fucked your way through everyone you fancied at the rodeo and most of the people you saw in the crowd who looked pretty or interesting, and you’ve ridden damn near everything with hooves between here and San Antonio, regardless of where here is.

But there remains one beast which has broken every rider, one creature which threatens your supremacy, and it resides in a small town in Iowa that you just happened to have stopped in for your latest show. That beast is Reggie, a three year old bull who still has his pecker and has an attitude to match.

Reggie has thrown every rider he’s ever had in under a minute flat. You’ve had it said that you can ride anything for two minutes at least and get off easy as if it was just what you were wantin’ to do. Reggie’s gonna put that to the test today.

You’ll mount him while he still rests in his pen to the cheers of the crowd. Most of them won’t know your name. They won’t know you’re a girl. They’ll have only the vaguest idea of you as a person, no sense of the curves underneath your chaps and flannel, the cords of muscle running up your arms through your shoulders and into your neck. They won’t even be able to see your hair. It’ll be tucked under your hat for the ride. They’ll just be there waiting to see something go wrong.

That’ll change the moment the gate opens and Reggie starts bucking. He’ll throw your hat from you right away, casting it clear across the grounds, but no one will notice. They’ll all be staring at you.

When the hat flies off your hair will fly out from under it, cascading in amber waves across your shoulders and bouncing with each hurling effort of the bull’s shoulders. The crowd will hold their breath as they watch you hold on for dear life. You’ll do it with an ease and grace that makes it seem like you were in cahoots with the bull the whole time, even though he’ll be kicking wildly as he ever has. You’ll look like a dancer there, and even though they can’t see your tits there won’t be a man, woman or child who won’t fall in love with you as you and Reggie play your parts.

At around a minute and fifty seconds, long after anyone thought you’d still be up, long after you thought you’d still be up, your arms will be aching. Your legs will feel like they’re fused around Reggie, and your hand will slip. You’ll drop the pommel and in a moment of despair hurl headfirst around Reggie’s neck.

You’ll catch yourself, throwing your arms around him and putting your head under his, tucking your legs around his neck. You’ll be small, smaller than most riders, and that means that he won’t be able to trample you the way he would a bigger man. So instead he’ll twitch and stumble for a few seconds before he lets himself be born to the ground by your weight around his neck.

When he finally settles, when he grows still beneath you, you’ll untangle yourself from him. You’ll give Reggie a pat on the neck like he just laid you okay and you’ll walk out of the ring without a word or a gesture to the crowd. They’ll keep quiet the whole time you’re walking out, just watching in wonder. When you leave they’ll explode into applause, but you won’t turn around. You’ll already be heading back to your trailer, back to a cup of tea, a warm shower and some ice packs.

Congratulations Rodeo Sam!