They arrive at the barn.

The dry cornstalks rustled against their bare skin as they pushed toward the field’s edge, Mackenzie leading the way with the absurd straw hat perched defiantly on her head. Brandon followed, wincing as the stiff leaves scraped against his thighs—though that wasn’t the only reason he was walking awkwardly.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying to angle himself sideways to minimize the… exposure. Mackenzie glanced back, rolling her eyes when she caught him mid-shuffle. "You look like you’re trying to sneak past a security guard."

"I am trying to sneak," he shot back, "just not the way you’re thinking."

The rustling corn finally parted before them, revealing a weathered wooden fence that separated the field from the farmyard beyond. Mackenzie's bare toes dug into the dirt as she halted, straw hat tipping forward as she squinted at the barn's peeling red paint in the distance. A rooster crowed somewhere beyond the fence, the sound cutting through the humid air like an alarm. Brandon stumbled to a stop beside her, wincing as a cornstalk flicked against his hip. "Great," he muttered, eyeing the fence's splintered planks. "Now we get to climb over this thing. Is there nothing smooth on a farm."

"Maybe we can find you a pig pen to wallow around in," Mackenzie replied scanning the area for anyone who might spot them. "It looks like the coast is clear. Come on let's move."

The couple carefully scaled the rough wood fence and sprinted for the barn. Mackenzie kept the scarecrows hat over her chest with one arm while the other concealed her vag while Brandon cupped his balls with nothing but his hands.

"So can we maybe have shifts with the straw hat." Brandon pleaded but Mackenzie just ignored him as they had just arrived at the barn. Mackenzie and Brandon pulled open the barn's creaky doors and the pair ran in, slammed them shut behind them and leaned against the wooden planks to catch their breath. The barn's dim interior enveloped them, the air thick with the scent of hay and rust. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they made out the outlines of farming equipment and heavy machinery, the metal surfaces glinting in the faint light that seeped through the grimy windows.

"Nice place." Brandon nodded. "So do we have a plan?"

"Finding clothes obviously." Mackenzie replied. "Theres got to be something around here we can cover up with."

The dim light revealed more hazards: a sickle glinting dully on a workbench, its curved blade speckled with oxidation; scattered nails protruding from loose floorboards like metallic teeth waiting to bite bare flesh. Mackenzie's outstretched fingers brushed against something cold and jagged—a rusted pitchfork leaning against a beam. She jerked her hand back with a sharp inhale. "Christ," she muttered, shaking her fingers as if the mere contact had contaminated her. She stepped back into Brandon, nearly pushing him forward into a grain thrasher. He squealed and arched himself back away from the collection of metallic teeth. He bumped into Mackenzies sweat-slick shoulder nearly knocking them both to the ground.

"Easy!" Mackenzie snapped, struggling to stay on her feet.

"Sorry," Brandon whined, "It's just, this is a really bad place to be naked."

"You got that right," Mackenzie sighed.

As they caught their breath, Mackenzie's eyes began to scan the dimly lit barn, her gaze darting between the rusty farm equipment and stacks of hay bales. She spotted a workbench in the corner, cluttered with tools and what looked like a pile of discarded overalls.

"Hey." she whispered nudging Brandon. "Clothes. Over there." Brandon squinted through the gloom, his bare shoulders tensing as he spotted the faded blue fabric swaying slightly in the draft.

"Looks like two pairs" He smiled. "Jackpot."

"Now we just have to get over there," she said. They moved forward in unison, wincing at every splinter that threatened their unprotected feet. Brandon shuffled past a short table of buzzsaws sitting at unprecedently crotch height. Meanwhile at least twice almost ran into a pitchfork! One leaning against a wall almost met her waiting breasts and another (while she was backing away from the first) managed to just barely pock her ass as it sat on a table.

"Gah," Mackenzie cringed pulling away from the table and rubbing her bare butt.

"You ok," Brandon asked. He didn't look over to distracted by a nearby chainsaw.

"I'm fine." Mackenzie answered trying to sound calm although she was anything but. "I just really wish there was an easier way through."

"How about over." Brandon said pointing at the large green tractor that dominated the second half of the barn. Mackenzie nodded and placed the straw hat back onto her head. Rather than continue through the gauntlet of potential cuts and scrapes the pair clamored up the back tires of this industrial machine and climbed their way to the workbench.

"Alright this was one of your better ideas." Mackenzie admitted as she open cab of the tractor.

"I have my moments." Brandon laughed as he leaped off the engine block back onto the ground. "Anyway, ready to get dressed.

"Yes!" She exclaimed crawling down beside him and approaching the bench. Mackenzie yanked the first pair of overalls off the table. It was patched at the knees with mismatched fabric. As it was wrenched from the rotting old workbench was a cloud of dust motes were thrown into the air. They could be seen swirling through a sunbeam.

"Oh God" Mackenzie winced thoroughly disgusted. She shook out the overalls with a snap, sending another puff of dust into the air. "These are disgusting."

"Who cares better than staying naked." Brandon walked past Mackenzie to grab the second pair barely noticing the grime. However, he did notice the material. The denim was stiff with age, the straps creaking thinning. He defiantly shoved one bare leg in, then the other, he hissed as the rough fabric scraped against his sunburned thighs. "Oh fuck! this feels like sandpaper."

"Then just stay naked!" Mackenzie said mockingly. Although she herself only had more trouble sticking her bare legs into the gross and uncomfortable overalls despite how **** she was for clothes, for once she wasn't sure she could put these on. That was until the barn door started creaking open.

"Hello?" an elderly voice called. "Is someone in here?"

The barn door groaned louder as the weight of an old but strong hand shoving against it. A sliver of daylight sliced across the dirt floor, widening as the farmer’s boot scuffed the threshold. Mackenzie and Brandon looked at one another, their bare asses pointed in the direction of the opening door. They didn't hesitate. In a single motion the couple grabbed the denim overalls and pulled them up their bodies, their faces contorted in pain as the rough material scrapped against their flesh. Mackenzie yanked the straps over her shoulders just as the door swung fully open.