Waking up in strange places is fast becoming your forte.

Groan.

"Doesth the Tup stir in 'is fold Brother Bolus?"

"Aye- I mean, Yea High Brother Bellwether, he doth stir...eth." Replies the aforementioned Brother Bolus clearly struggling with his Ye Olde verbiage.

What is this rubbish and did they have to hit you? You are blinded by some dirty, stinky sack over your head but you can feel bindings on your wrists restraining your arms and leaving you in the dark while someone out there is playing at silly buggers...

"If 'e be wool-blind then give 'im a wigging Brother, so 'e may watch over 'is flock!"

The potato sack is yanked off your head and you would have gasped in clean air if not for the foul tasting cloth gag in your mouth.

"Mmmmph! Mmmmnnnrphmm!" You articulate intelligently.

Your vision swims back into focus and you see that you are in large barn, the big, open space filled with white robed figures with white hoods on their heads all facing you. Oh this is too much, you don't want any part of a fantasyland klan rally! Where's Jaasi when you need her?

"Calm yourself Luvee," a familiar woman's voice says quietly in your ear as a warm hand pats you gently on the thigh, "You'll be fine. Just try and enjoy yourself."

Sitting beside you in white robes and hood of her own is Lynn the Ale Wife. Except as you stare at her in disbelief you realize that it's not a hood but a fleece covering her head. A similar woolly lamb skin is draped over each robed shepherd's skull as they kneel and watch you at the center of whatever all this is...

"The Tup be wigged, High Brother!" A proud voice behind you proclaims loudly. That would be Brother Bolus.

Right in front of you, facing the small crowd with his back to you can be none other than High Brother Bellwether or as you know him, Josiah. The fat little store owner stands out in a crowd of otherwise lean and rangy men in his own elaborate white robes holding a massive rams skull above his balding head in pudgy hands.

"'Arken Brothers for a new Tup 'as been presented to be weighed and measured in the eyes of our blessed Lady of Lambs!"

"Blessed be our Lady of Lambs."

The sycophantic drone of the practiced refrain makes your skin crawl and your butt prickle.

Wait that's not right, glancing down at yourself you are mortified to see that you have been stripped naked! Well not entirely naked, a simple wool knit breechclout covering your lap stands valiantly between you and an embarrassing state of nature. The rest of you is very much on show though as you are seated bare-assed on a prickly hay bale with your arms stretched up above your head by bindings extending from your wrists to dusty roof beams above.

It's hard to maintain a sense of princely dignity when you are put on display like the worlds loneliest Y in a space void of any M, C or A's but you think you are managing pretty well all things considered. Jaasi had made sure you were very easy on the eyes after-all, so where is your drunken Djinn?

Josiah- ahem... High Brother Bellwether remains turned away from you as he drones on in his ridiculously officious tone, "Tell us Brother Bolus, be 'e not a weaner and be 'e not a gummer?"

What did this **** jerk just call you?!

Sister Lynn catches your heated look of ire and rests her lanolin soft hand on your bare thigh again, leaving it there this time.

"Hush Luvee, he's just asking if you aren't too young or too old."

"Nay High Brother, he ain't neither of those. Mid-twenties if I don't miss my guess." Brother Bolus returns charitably.

Josiah's shoulders droop noticeably as Brother Bolus's chipper reply cuts through somber mood of the proceedings but carries on regardless.

"Then bless 'im with grains of Wheat and Barley and Oat so that 'e might be fit and strong..."

"I've only got oats back here, High Brother." Brother Bolus interjects rummaging around with some sacks behind you.

"Jeb isn't due in with the fresh feed until Thursday!" Calls a helpful voice from the back of the mass of white robes.

Josiah turns his head just far enough to glare red-faced at Bolus behind you and utters through gritted teeth, "Then bless 'im with oats then so 'e might be fit and strong."

"Blessed be our Lady of Lambs." Intones the crowd as Brother Bolus happily sprinkles a few handfuls of dry oats over your head and shoulders leaving you vaguely resembling an upright oatmeal cookie.

Shaking your head vigorously like a dog after a bath you make an indignant huffing sound through your gag and strain your neck to scowl back at Brother Bolus. It turns out he is a tall, lean, older fellow with mop of blonde curls so pale that it almost matches the fleece draped over his skull. He just gives you an encouraging, gap-toothed smile and a cheeky wink.

The matronly Sister Lynn chortles beside you and gently brushes off your bare shoulder getting a touch handsy with you as her other hand starts to softly massage your muscular thigh. At least she was having fun, her growing excitement apparent by the way her stiffening nipples are trying to poke through her white robes that were already valiantly straining to contain her impressive, overflowing cleavage.

"....and be 'e not a Stag or a Wether, Brother Bolus?" Josiah inquires, heroically soldiering on and trying to recapture ceremonial mood by waving the huge rams skull above his head as if in reminder to everyone.

Staring past him and the crowd you desperately search the barn, thankfully lit by hanging oil lamps rather than burning crosses, when a splash of purple catches your eye. It's Jaasi and she has been trussed up like a hog, gagged and is half sunken into a big, soft wool bale in the back corner of the dusty building. She is wide awake though and glaring furious daggers at the esteemed High Brother Bellwether. That's not a good sign for things to come...

"'Scuse me now mi-lord," Brother Bolus whispers as he shuffles around in front of you and bends over, "I just have to take a peek of the ol' crown jewels..."

Wait, what now?!

More than a few of the now silent audience are craning their necks for a better view and Sister Lynn is blatantly leaning in and staring down at your crotch now in anticipation as Brother Bolus reaches out a gnarled hand to twitch aside your manhood's last line of defense against this wicked world. They can't treat you like this!

"Mmmmrph! Nnnnnnnnrmph!" You protest, shaking your head vigorously, straining fruitlessly at your bonds but it's already too late.

Bolus's long whistle of appreciation is almost drowned out by Lynn's gasp of shock as her warm grip tightens on your bare thigh. Her eyes look as though they might fall out of her head as Brother Bolus straightens up and steps back to properly take in all of your princely glory, his arms folded and head cocked to one side as he eyeballs your downstairs department.

"Yup, it's all there and then some High Brother! Cripes but our Betsy is gonna be happy when she..."

You can feel your face burning in both embarrassment and outrage. How dare these back-water, sheep-fucking, inbred yokels disrespect you like this! You are technically a Prince goddamn it! You will... you will... well you are sure as hell going to do something! What is Jaasi doing just laying there? Where is her much vaunted, magical 'help' now?

The Ale Wife Lynn comes to your aid by tugging the breech-cloth back over your exposed essentials just as Josiah wheels around to berate Bolus for his lack of savoir faire.

"Dammit, Stanley Bolus! If you can't take this seriously I will find another Brother-"

"Here now, don't you go getting all huffy with me, Josiah! You are only the High Brother because you paid extra for the fancy robes..."

A brief, hushed argument ensues between the two 'Brothers' with the short, fat Josiah occasionally shaking the over-sized rams skull under tall, skinny Stanley Bolus's nose. It's like watching an angry albino tortoise harangue a particularly petulant stalk. The growing tension is unpleasant, the rest of the watching robed shepherds and goat herds just shuffle awkwardly in place and glance at each other until the two finally separate with matching glowers and a mutual hurrumph...

All the while Sister Lynn's free hand has been roaming the muscles of your back as her other hand is slipping further and further up your thigh until her fingertips are ready to slip beneath the fabric covering your snaking nethers. Her hands are really soft...

She's leaning against you now, almost as though she wants to rest her head on your shoulder. Under less dire circumstances you would happily admit she is a handsome woman in an older, busty MILF fashion and maybe entertain the idea of entertaining her off somewhere private. Her long brown hair was still rich in color and smelled nice, her figure is full in that over-ripe way with big bulging breasts, thick hips and thighs plus an ass that was large enough to have some serious bounce to it. Her round, blushing face wasn't unattractive, kind of cute really with a little button nose and full womanly lips... hang on, what are you doing here again?

Oh yeah, being kidnapped by the worlds dumbest cult and possibly about to get a hand-job beneath the covers.

High Brother Josiah Bellwether has taken his up his position again, back to you with the big-ass rams skull raised over his head while Stanley has taken up his spot standing behind you again.

"Be 'e not a Stag or a Wether, Brother Bolus?!" Josiah asks with all the loud deliberation of a teacher asking a pupil to repeat themselves for the entire class to hear.

"Nay High Brother Bellwether, he be not!" Stanley Bolus responds, his voice dripping with mock sincerity when speaking Josiah's title.

"Then let 'im be doffed in the Mother's Mantle so that springs lambing might be blessed."

"Right, right..." mumbles Brother Bolus with more rummaging noises before draping your shoulders in a bright white fleece of the softest lambs skin.

"Blessed be our Lady of Lambs." The crowd speaks in practiced unison once you are suitably doffed, just as your lusty landlady slips her questing hand under your cloth to cup and weigh your free hanging balls while flashing a sneaky, wicked grin up at you. How were her hands so damn soft?!

"Be 'e free of Orf or Scab or Scrapie, Brother Bolus?"

Across the room Jaasi has somehow managed to work her gag free and is mouthing silent words as she stares at the rams skull in Josiah's hands with laser focused intent. That isn't good - is the bleach white bone beginning to softly glow?

"Yea he be free of all of that and the cock rot too, High Brother!" This earns Stanley another dirty look from Josiah which he returns in kind.

"Blessed be our Lady of Lambs." the increasingly uncomfortable crowd of attendees murmur.

"Blessed be!" Sister Lynn giggles girlishly into your ear as her warm, incredibly supple hand works it's way onto your shaft and she wraps her grip around it experimentally. "Oh this is the good part..."

You're not sure whether she is referring to the slumbering giant between your legs or the proceedings but you are really just worried about what Jaasi might be planning - what, with her being Jaasi and all. Hell hath no fury like a genie scorned... your genie especially.

"Then let the Gimmers be brought forth from the fold to bear witness to the crowning of this Tup." High Brother Bellwether calls and the vacant eyed skull held above his head is definitely glowing now, it's not obvious but if you are looking for it then you can spot a gentle lavender haze rolling off of it like the faintest, wispiest mist.

"Oooooh, look mi'lord, look! That's our Betsy, isn't she a lamb?" Brother Stanley Bolus stage whispers down to you as three small cloaked and hooded figures slip into the barn and stand in the center of a rapidly widening space as the robed Brothers make way for them like a snowy retreating tide.

Pulling down their hoods you are surprised to see they are three young... well, maidens - there's no other word them. All soft of skin, fair of feature with the fresh bloom of youth stamped clearly upon them. It's shocking when you compare them to the hard-bitten crowd of men, some of whom must be their fathers, and wonder just how impossibly beautiful their mothers must be to balance those ill-weighted genetic scales- well that or the mailman must really be getting his dick into the local female population because each of these young women is an absolute stunner!

Your cock was already cheering up under Sister Lynn's 'helping hand' - have you mentioned how incredibly soft her warm matronly touch is yet? - despite yourself but now it's actively perking it's ears up and really taking an interest!

Stanley's Betsy is easy to pick even if it is only by her long curling mane of white blonde hair, because that is where her resemblance to the gangly Brother Bolus ends. Her face heart-shaped with rosie cheeks, a kissable little bow of a mouth and sparkling glacial blue eyes that are currently drinking in your large, muscular frame like a tall drink of the sweetest ewes milk. Her thick, glossy hair is tied back with a shiny blue ribbon weaved intricately through the platinum, sunlight bright mass making her look like little Bo Peep getting made up for a wild night out with the girls.

Flanking her her is a rich, chocolate brunette and a sweet, caramel haired beauty both with creamy smooth skin, artfully touched up appearances and hungry eyes of emerald green and deepest amber respectively. You have no clue of their names and can't make out anything of their bodies beneath the ankle length white cloaks but the stirring of a draft does part Betsy's enough for you to catch a glimpse of soft pink flesh around her midsection that leads you to believe there might not be much on under the long colorless garment.

You can hope. This whole **** 'thing' might just be taking a turn for the better - maybe? Oh but Lynn is gently stroking you more boldly now that all eyes are on the girls and her hand feels like warm buttery goodness gliding up and down your slowly hardening length.

Catching Jassi's huge manic grin and wild glimmering eyes staring at the the girls, then at you and then at the massively horned rams skull you decide it probably hasn't taken a turn for the better but was far more likely going to get much, much worse. Probably not for you though? Hopefully?

"This Tup 'as passed our final muster Brothers! Let us crown 'im with 'earts of joy and celebrate as 'e chooses 'is Gimmer for the sacred joining!"

"Blessed be the Lady of Lambs!"

The crowd of ruddy herdsman is beginning to sound excited, and Lynn quickly snatches her amazing hand back out from beneath your now tented breech-clout just as Josiah Bellwether turns to face you at last. He approaches you with what he must think is austere poise but actually makes him look like a prancing goose with the huge muzzled skull with it's great curling rams horns held out in front of him.

Yep, it's still glowing that faint lavender pink and no-one else has even noticed.

Catching Jaasi's eye across the busy room you give her a subtle but definite shake of your head, pleading desperately with your eyes for her to not do this. She returns your look with a small but eager nod, her own eyes alight with evil mischief telling you that she was absolutely going to do this. Whatever this was...

"With this crown I name you our Prince of Pastures, the Ram to the flock of Woolcock, may the spring lambing bring...."

The rest of it is muffled as he lowers the heavy ivory skull down over your head and face entirely until all you can see is the pink mist of Jaasi's magic filling the cranial cavity as you have **** but to breath it in or hold your breath indefinitely...

BRRIIING!!