John winced once again as the bus stopped. The brakes had a nasty squeal to them. Probably run down and in desperate need of a change. Not that it mattered. He had finally reached his destination. Grabbing his backpack, he stepped out to a strip of dirt to the side of the asphalt road. There wasn't even a bus stop that marked his destination. John had to shield his eyes from the sun. What he saw wasn't very promising. Fields of grass as far as he could see and a horizon so flat god must have ironed out every hill for dozens of miles.

"That's Montana to ya," he murmured to himself. Worse. It appeared to be bumfuck nowhere in Montana.

"Your baggage, mister."

The bus driver had opened the compartment to the side of the bus, and John could see his luggage peaking out. Not that there was a lot of it. One big travel case and his backpack. It was enough. A seasonal worker needed to travel light, after all.

As the bus left the dirt spot, John had to cough loudly. Too much dust was whirled up. It clearly hadn't rained in weeks. Hopefully, his contact would show up soon. A man named Ernest.

Looking around, John was surprised. Not by the landscape on the other side of the road. It was flat as a board too. No, it was the spiffing new pickup truck parked there. An even better sight was the lass leaning against it. Damn, what a woman. John wouldn't have minded getting to know her. Any red-blooded man would.

Well, Ernest was so far a no-show. And miss easy-on-the-eyes is waving him over. He might as well introduce himself while waiting. Who knew what would come out of it.

"You, Hendricks?" she shouted before John could even think of a pickup line.

"Yes, mam. John Hendricks at your service."

"See? I told her I need no stinking sign to pick you up." The woman pushed off the truck and pointed over her shoulder to the truck bed. "Put your stuff in the back and get in. We are wasting daylight."

"Yes, mam," John said and hurried to pick up his stuff.

The woman laughed while climbing into the driver's seat. "Ain't no mam. Not yet anyway."

John was about to throw his things in the back when he indeed spied a sign on the truck bed with his name on it. It looked like this was his ride after all.

Dumping his stuff, John walked up and sat down to ride shotgun. "No offense, but I was supposed to be picked up by a man named Ernest. But I must admit this is a welcome change of plans."

Once again, the woman laughed. Giving him a cheeky grin before putting the truck in gear and pulling onto the road. "Sorry, lad, but you are mistaken. Not your fault mind you, but my own stubbornness. I'm Ernest."

She offered her hand to shake. After a moment of hesitation, John shook it.

"I get why you are confused," she said when concentrating on the road again. "Barely a man anymore. Just where it really counts. If you get my meaning. Should have picked out a woman's name, you know. But now, doesn't matter much longer anyways."

"You are transgender?" John blurred out. Not the most tactful way to ask, but John could hardly believe it. If he ever met the doctor who created this miracle of female beauty, John would be sure to buy them a beer.

"Nah, can't really claim that," scratching her head through her luscious mane of hair. "This is a recent thing. Well, not really. A half-year next week I think. How the time flies, eh? Anyway, a few of the girls dared me to jump the fence for a week. There is only so much teasing and needling a man can take, right? So, I did. And what can I say, I like it. Huge surprise. Most of all to myself, I tell ya."

Half a year? John doubted it. So, those girls got Ernest to cross-dress and then he transitioned. And the end result was this divine creature? In half a year no less. John didn't know much about transgender people and their transitioning. But half a year sounded everything but realistic.

"I know that look," Ernest said with another chuckle. Turning onto a dirt road a moment later. They then drove through a gate that had 'Brentess Ranch' written in large letters over it. It was framed by two mighty oak trees. Both looked more than a hundred years old. "Magic, you see? One moment I was a man - even burlier than you I might add - and the next- Well, you see the result. Can't complain."

A cold shudder ran down John's back. Magic. That meant a witch must be around. While John knew all kinds of types existed, most were of the fashion vocation. A nasty specialization that allowed them to transform people into sentient pieces of clothing. John couldn't think of a worse fate.

"Ah, yeah, I know that reaction," Ernest said after glancing at John. "Don't worry. Julia won't harm you. Not unless you fuck with her or her girls. Unless the girls want to fuck you. In the literal sense. See? There is a reason why I still got my cock. The best tool a rancher can have around here."

After mentally blocking out the last part, John finally put together an important fact. "Wait. Julia Brentess is the witch? The owner of the ranch?"

"Wouldn't be much of a ranch without her," Ernest mused aloud. Then pointed out through the windscreen. "Speaking off. We are nearly there."

John relaxed slightly. "So, she is not a fashion witch, I take it?"

"Eh?" Ernest furrowed her brows for a moment. "Julia tried to explain it to me. Something about how all witches are the same, yet different. If asked, she insists that she is a lair witch."

Ernest slowed at the entrance of a large paved driveway. Ahead was a farmhouse that resembled more a mansion than anything else. It was flanked by two large barns. One of them Ernest steered towards. Parking in a small lot between other pickup trucks and SUVs.

"We're here," she unnecessarily added.

"So, a lair witch," John picked up the topic back up. Not letting it go to rest. "Not sure what the difference is. Does that mean she doesn't wear sentient clothes?"

"Does have a few," Ernest admitted while getting out of the truck. When John got out too, she continued. "Told ya. Don't fuck with her or her girls. Some fashion witches tried in the beginning. Bet they are regretting it now."

"What lies are you telling this time?" The new voice belonged to a petite woman with brown hair and blue eyes. She was small. Not even the height of John's shoulders. Her breasts might be half a handful, but compared to Ernest, she appeared flat-chested. Still, despite being challenged in height, she extruded an aura of authority.

"Just the honest truth, Miss Brentess," Ernest said with a look on her face that tried to proclaim innocence but failed at it.

"Sure, Ernest. Sure. Why don't you take mister Hendricks' luggage to his new room while I give him a tour." Julia turned to John and gave him a tired but honest smile. "Provided she hasn't scared you off. I am Julia by the way. The owner of this ranch."

John hesitated to shake her offered hand but did then anyway. He knew witches didn't need skin contact to do their magic. If she wanted him ill, she'd have done it by now. "John Hendricks. A pleasure, mam."

"Let's take a walk," Julia suggested. She took a few steps and then waited to see if John followed. Once he did, Julia leaned over. "Alright. Between us, how much has Ernest spilled? I swear, ever since she jumped the gender fence she took it as Carte Blanche to gossip up a storm. Why now and not as a man? Beats me."

Should John dance around the topic? No, he decided to take the bull by the horns and see how Julia would react. "He mentioned you are a witch."

"Ha, yes! The big one." Julia gave him another smile. This one was more lively. "And you haven't run away yet. A good sign I hope. Yes, I am a witch. A lair witch to be precise."

"I am afraid, I don't know what that entails," John admitted. "Ernest's explanation was more confusing than helpful."

"Alright. Let's see."

Julia stopped at a wooden fence and leaned against it. Taking in the view of the pasture. John thought he could make out a large group of sheep in the distance.

"There are some misconceptions about witches. I am a witch." Julia pointed to herself. Then to john. "You could be too. No, it is not a trait you are born with. Everyone could be a witch if they wanted. Though I don't recommend it. All it takes is special training to awaken as a witch. And contrary to popular belief, a witch isn't safe from other witches. The opposite is the fact. Witches and those close to awakening as witches are the top prey of stronger witches. It is a cut-throat world for witches. Most end up a victim of another."

There was a pause and John took it as a sign to ask the obvious question: "Then why did you become a witch? It doesn't sound like a smart move. Or a safe one."

"I was tricked," Julia admitted. She gave a heavy sigh and a short thousand-mile stare. "I used to be a journalist, you know? Under a different name. I hadn't known at the time, but our boss had been a fashion witch. Everyone made fun of her daily morning meditation exercises she had us do. Behind her back of course. We didn't know. Like pigs, we were fattened up for slaughter."

"Those special exercises you mentioned." John put two and two together. "She wanted you to awaken as witches."

"Not awaken," Julia corrected him. "But close to. That's where she would have gained the most benefits from us. Then my mentor showed up." Julia gave a heartfelt laugh. "I knew her for all but ten minutes, but still I can't help but call her that. She opened my eyes to the truth. Spilled all the beans about witches. It was there she told me how to react. What to become in order to not end up as a sentient garment."

John took it as his cue to spur her on. "To become a lair witch. What does that entail exactly?"

"Come find out," Julia said before climbing over the fence. Walking a few steps, she stopped to give John a wave that said follow me.

Seeing not much of a choice, John climbed after her. Then following her one or two steps behind. Their goal clearly was the herd of sheep in the distance. Yet, the closer they came, the less these sheep made sense. Their form looked wrong.

It became much clearer as one sheep suddenly stood up on two legs. Now showing a humanoid form. A moment later, the person started to run towards them. As both parties came closer together, John could make out more details. It was a young woman. She was quite shapely. She looked a little plump, but that was probably the thick fleece of wool that clung to her.

"John, meet one-"

"Oh my gosh!" the strange hybrid of sheep and human exclaimed while coming to a dead stop before them. If the short sprint taxed her, then it didn't show as she started to ramble on. "Is that the new wrangler? He looks handsome. And so beefy. Nice catch, Julia. Me likey. Can I touch your arm?" Promptly ignoring her own question and going right ahead. "Oh, he is strong, Julia. I can tell. Hopefully, he has good stamina too. What's his name? Maybe later-"

"Sixty-Nine!" Julia's sharp words stopped the waterfall of words coming out of the sheep-girls mouth. "Have some manners, will you? I haven't even finished the tour yet. There is plenty of time for introductions later."

"Right! Right." The sheep-girl's attention snapped back to John. "Come find me later, will you? I am Sixty-Nine, by the way." She showed him the yellow tag in her ear that had nothing more than the number printed on it.

"I'm John Hendricks. A pleasure to meet you." John wasn't sure about the truthfulness of the latter part, but showing manners rarely made things worse.

"Hi, John. You'll come to find me later, right?" Sixty-Nine slowly walked backward towards the herd. "I'll make it worthwhile. But not with sixty-nineing you. I am Sixty-Nine, but I don't actually like doing sixty-nine. Kinda ironic if you think about it. But we can do a lot of other stuff. I mean have you ever-"

"Sixty-Nine!" This time Julia sounded more tired and resigned.

A last wink and Sixty-Nine took off in a sprint again. Soon lost among the herd of sheep-girls.

There were a lot of questions now in John's mind. But what bubbled forth and won was: "Are they all like that?"

"Ha!" Julia shook her head. "That's just Sixty-Nine. Thankfully. If they all were like that I'd hang up my lair-witch-hat and offer myself up to another witch voluntarily."

"If she is so much trouble, then why catch her in the first place?" John wondered aloud. "I take it she used to be a normal human before, right?"

"That's not how it works. At least around here. Everyone in my herd is here of their own free will. It is-" Julia broke off. "See? This happens when people mess up my tour. How about we start at the beginning?"

Maybe John should have run. Julia was a witch after all. But she didn't give him malicious vibes. If any, it was more along the lines of a well-meaning person who suffered the trials and tribulations her peers enforced on her. And that's why John stayed. It was simple curiosity.

"That's probably best," John agreed.

"I mean it," Julia said while starting to walk again. "Everyone in my herd is a volunteer. But starting out I was young and scared. Yes, in the beginning, I transformed people by force. I remedied that later, but in the start things were hard. Do you know why witches collect humans?"

John's first reaction was to outright say no, but there was something Julia said previously that gave him thought. "You mentioned that everyone can awaken as a witch, right? I guess to stifle competition before they grow into witches? No, there has to be more to it. You said you were set up by your previous boss. They wanted you to get stronger."

"Correct," Julia confirmed. "Strong, but not too strong. You see the strength of one's own magic doubles as resistance to it too. There is only one way to heighten your magical strengths artificially. You have to get it from others. Either by borrowing or stealing it. What we call fashion witches are doing the latter. They subjugate people and steal part of their magic. But for it to work, the victim needs to be close. Hence the transformation into clothing. As sick as it sounds, it is just practical. But the transference spell is flawed. Only a fraction can be used to the witch's benefit. Hence they try to hunt for someone strong, but not strong enough to resist their magic."

"That explains a lot!" John ran his hand through his short hair and then scratched the back of his head. What Julia had just revealed was a game-changer. It threw John's view of the world for a loop. Certainly, it gave him a new perspective. "I guess that explains your former boss. Why hunt when you can grow."

"Yes, that was her thinking," Julia confirmed, but then quickly turned around. Alarmed over her own words. "But that is not what I am doing here. I swear."

"I believe you," John assured her. And to his surprise, he actually meant it. Julia didn't strike him as the predatory creature everyone normally described witches. "So, fashion witches are bad and lair witches are good?"

Julia let out another deep sigh. Before answering, her gaze roamed over the landscape again. They had walked a surprising distance and were close to the gate of the ranch. Julia pointed to one of the mighty oaks flanking it and started walking towards it. "No, lair witches can be good or bad. Which is an advantage over fashion witches who have no choice but to be evil or become the prey of another witch in the long run. And I have to admit, when I started out as a lair witch, I definitely was not on the side of good. As Elise over there can confirm."

"Elise?"

"The left oak tree," Julia replied but continued speaking before John could ask for details. "You see, fashion witches need their victims close for the spell to work. Not so lair witches. They create cornerstones that define a territory. Mine are the nine oak trees that surround my ranch."

Arriving at the oak tree, Julia circled it for a second before stopping. Placing her hands around her mouth, she shouted out: "Elise. Are you awake? If so, can you come out for a moment?"

The mighty oak rattled and shook for a few seconds, before calming down. Making John involuntarily step back. Then a new movement caught his eyes. A slim brown hand appeared out of the bark. A forearm followed. Then close by a face. Slowly a woman started to extract herself out of the tree. To John, it kind of looked like she was growing out of the oak, but still part of it.

"That's Elise," Julia pointed out. "One of my first victims. You see, lair witches still need people with strong magic within their territory. And when I first fled west, I was scared and nearly constantly in panic. To my shame, I became what I feared the most. A predator."

"And there I came in." A melodic voice cut in. It belonged to Elise who had nearly extracted herself from the tree. Her body was nearly nude, but a few pieces of bark clung to her. None of them in any spot to make her appear decent. In fact, they only appeared to underline that all intimate areas were uncovered and for the world to see. "A young damsel soon to be in distress. Once I was a hitchhiker bound west. Soon lured into a cove and taken root there by force. My young innocent self was taken by force at the hands of a witch."

"Drama queen," Julia said dryly before rolling her eyes. "And I can't recall you being a damsel or innocent."

"Oh, right!" the dryad exclaimed wide-eyed. Then addressed John directly again. "She stole my manhood. Oh, woo me. Lil lad of nineteen and robbed of my masculinity before I could bed even one fair lady. Blamed it all on mythology. Oh, Elise, there are no male dryads. Have you never read upon the old tellings of ancient Greece?"

"Could you stop going on a tangent for one minute?" a suffering Julia asked. "And how many times do I have to tell you, it was the dryad spell that did you in. Not my adherence to lore." She turned to John. "It was the spell, I swear. It was one of my first and it was before I learned to properly dissect and modify them. Not to mention that it was the best I could find on the dark web at that time."

John was baffled. "You got a spell from the internet?"

"Most of my basic spells are from the dark web," Julia admitted. "You'd be surprised what one can find. How else do you think that many fashion witches exist? Keep in mind that fashion witches hunt each other. To keep the numbers up somehow they have to replenish."

"Alright. I believe you," John said while raising his hands in a placating gesture. "So, why go for dryads in the first place?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Elise said while posing for John. Even wiggling her eyebrows at him seductively.

"Well, I was about to explain that." Julia took a moment to give Elise a hard look of warning. "You see lair witches can collect the magical potential of their donors-" - "Victims," Elise corrected - "Victims. As long as they remain in the territory. Which usually means making them immobile. As in turning them into statues or other fixed objects. But that sounded just as bad to me as turning them into clothing. So, I looked and found the dryad spell. Transforms the target into a tree. In other words, fix them in place. But it gives them the ability to manifest a humanoid form."

"A compromise," John concluded.

"A flawed one," Julia admitted. "Just enough to soothe my bad conscience. So, that's what I did. Lured in hitchhikers and homeless people, while trying to stay under the radar of the authorities, or worse, other witches. It worked fine until I had a cove of around thirty-five."

"There is something I don't get," John spoke up and turned to Elise. "Why didn't you turn on her? I mean, you were thirty-five people. Well, trees. But you can take humanoid form. Why not overwhelm her or something like that?"

"And then what?" Elise asked in turn. "Wouldn't mean we return to being human. We'd be still stuck. And worse, we'd be without a protector. Cassandra at least told us why she did it and tried to accommodate us."

"Cassandra?" John frowned.

"My old name," Julia said and then turned to Elise. "I told you to not use it anymore."

Elise shrugged. "I know. I know. Habits die hard, you know?"

"Then what happened?" John asked to get back on track. By now he was truly invested in the story and wanted to know more. Most of all, how this ranch and herd came to be. "You made it to thirty-five dryads, but I don't see us standing in a forest. And you mentioned that only nine oak trees mark your territory now."

"A rude wake-up call happened. That's what," Julia said with a lop-sided smile. Clearly, it still pained her a little to admit it. "I got careless and attracted the attention of a fashion witch. She thought I was an easy target but didn't realize I was a lair witch and that she challenged me on my turf. The problem was, that she was strong. Not strong enough that she could take me on, but enough that I couldn't influence her either. And there we were. Two strong witches with spells galore at our fingertips and what did we resort to? A cat-fight."

"Obviously, you won," John guessed.

"Not without help," Elsie interrupted. When Julia didn't continue, Elise took it as a sign to continue with her perspective. "Most of us dryads were indifferent to Cas- I mean Julia. Most didn't like her a lot, but the thought of living without her wasn't very appealing either. And then miss high and mighty fashion witch walks into our midst. Boasting and teasing before Julia. I think at this moment we all realized that yes, Julia was our personal bad guy, but we could have it worse. At least Julia tried. So, we stepped in. No fashion witch is a match for over thirty dryads."

John got a queasy feeling in his stomach. Not that he had any love for fashion witches, but he had to know. "Did you kill her?"

"Worse!" Elise exclaimed with eyes wide open and then hunched over to John to clue him in. "She's now Julia's skirt. Many would prefer death. Especially since Julia likes chilies and other stews."

"Tattle-tale," Julia said while rolling her eyes. "I am not that bad. Anyways. Yes, it is true. I wear her as a sentient garment. You have to understand that she was too powerful to let go. Probably vengeful too. Couldn't even make her a dryad. Anyway, Elise and the others stepped in. Stripping the fashion witch of her sentient garments. With enough distance, the transference spell stopped and the witch lost strength. Until she was weakened enough that I could influence her with my magic."

"What happened to all those sentient garments?" John wanted to know. Then a little more hesitant he added: "Did you wear them?"

"Oh, no!" Julia waved him off. "The only sentient garments I wear are fashion witches who were stupid enough to challenge me and lost. Seven so far. No, the others I made into dryad trees."

"And that's how the big dryad civil war started!" Elise exclaimed. Striking a pose that might have had the intention to invoke action and drama had been afoot.

"She is exaggerating," Julia assured him.

"Well, it was like this," Elise continued before Julia could. "We, who had been first, knew Julia. She had caught us one by one. Explained things to us. We had time to get used to it. But the new ones were more upset. Oh, they were happy that they had humanoid bodies again. But soon the complaining started. Why am I female now? And a tree? Not even explaining that Julia was a lair witch helped. Why not give us human bodies? We promise we stay close. As if. They would have run the first chance they got, I'll tell ya."

"The month that followed was tumultuous," Julia admitted. "On one hand I had defeated a fashion witch. Granted, with the help of my dryads. I then knew I could count on them. At least the original ones. Not so much the new ones. Their complaints got to me and I started to really wish there was another way. And then one of the new dryads mentioned that her circumstance reminded her of a story she read on the internet."

"Yeah, turns out the internet is full of deviants just happy to leave humanity behind," Elise quipped up.

"Says the person who volunteered to stay a dryad," Julia added deadpan. "Anyway. That's where I met Julia. The original Julia. She had a small site dedicated to stories of the fetish variety that focused on human-animal-hybrids. Over the months we talked she assured me that there would be plenty of volunteers to leave their boring lives behind and become something different."

"Chief among them was the original Julia," Elise remarked.

"So, a plan was formed," Julia continued. "I would dismiss all my dryads and move to Montana. To take over the small farm Julia owned by becoming her. We'd then invite like-minded people to join her in sheep-girl form."

"By the looks of it, former Julia was right," John remarked. "That's a big herd you have. And they really are all volunteers?"

"Yes, but not all are recruited from the internet," Julia admitted. Looking slightly embarrassed doing so. "Maybe three quarters. Some of my original lair's inhabitants chose to stay with me. Eight remained dryads and seven came with me to try being a sheep girl."

"You said there are nine dryad trees marking your lair," John pointed out.

"Elise managed to convince one of the wranglers to join her," Julia said while giving the dryad a hard stare.

"Hey, that is only fair," Elise exclaimed while crossing her arms. "If ranch hands are fair game for recruiting by the herd then all is fair, right? Because, John, that's where the last quarter of the volunteers for the herd comes from. Don't know why you are angry, Julia. I only napped one."

"Even one-" Julia shook her head.

Suddenly John didn't feel that safe anymore. "Should I be worried?"

"Look, I'll be level with you here." By the tone of voice, Julia meant it too. "I only accept volunteers. But I must admit my herd is very good at recruiting. Be on the lookout and you'll be fine. Else, I have to look for more ranch hands." Julia threw her hands in the air. "Heck, even with you, I still need more wranglers. Do me a favor and resist them. I beg of you."

"I'll try my best," John promised. But one thing lingered on his mind. "Elise, you had the chance to be human again. Maybe - probably - even male again. Why stay a dryad?"

The dryad gave it a short thought and then crouched down. Motioning for John to do the same. "Place your hand on the ground and tell me what you feel."

John did as told. Even going so far as picking up a bit of earth and crumbling it between his fingers. "Good soil. Could hold more than grass. Might hold a crop for a few rotations."

"That's your head speaking," Elise chided him. "I feel more than just the topsoil. You speak of nutrients. I not only feel them as they nourish me. My roots reach deep down. Piercing through layers of earth and soil. Right down to the water level. For you, rain is annoying. It is a refreshing drink for my sisters and me. A welcome shower to cool us off. When it rains I can feel the water making its way down through each layer of soil and earth. And the sun-" Elise closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. She looked blissful. "There are no words to describe how it feels to take in the sun through your leaves."

Elise then stood up and gave her best shot at a sexy pose. "And why give up this? Be honest. I am an eleven on a scale of one to ten." At last, Elise sobered up in her little lecture. "But, in all honesty, why should I go back? I ran away when I was fourteen because it never felt like a home or family, to begin with. Here, I have that. A place to take root - pun intended - and a purpose."

John gave the dryad a nod. He didn't come from a bad home. His had been quite nice. But he knew how it felt to be adrift. Banks had robbed him and his brothers of the family farm when his parents died.

"Elise doesn't just act as a cornerstone of my lair," Julia now added. "She and her sisters are my guardians. They can sense trouble coming from a mile away. No fashion witch can sneak by them."

"Julia taught us how to read magical auras," Elise boasted. "Among a few other magic tricks."

"Impressive," John remarked and meant it too. He wouldn't give up his humanity to become a dryad, but now he understood why someone might. John even had respect for it.

"Maybe we should return to the herd and then conclude our tour?" Julia suggested.

"Yes," John agreed. Though a part of him found it hard to depart from the dryad. "Elise, it was a pleasure getting to know you. I rest easier now that I know we are protected by such loyal guardians."

"Such a charmer," Elise gushed. Suddenly acting a little shy. It didn't last long. "Tell you what. Come by after work. You can help me fertilize my soil if you like."

Before John could give an awkward reply, Julia pulled him away. "Speaking of work. He really should get to know his duties as a ranch hand. Come on, John."

Walking away, John couldn't help but glance back now and then. Elise was waving all the while walking back to her tree. Even as her humanoid body was absorbed back into the bark and wood.

As they walked back to the herd of sheep-girl, John slowly realized just how big it was. "You said you started this ranch five years ago? This must be over fifty sheep-girls."

"About," Julia agreed. "But this is only a fraction. A good chunk is on the other pastures or in the barn. I think my herd is up to-" For a moment, Julia appeared to concentrate hard. "One hundred and eighty-one. No, wait. Forgot Eric. Eighty-two with him. Her."

"One hundred and eighty-two. And all volunteers?" John let out a whistle of appreciation. That certainly was something. Especially since it was such an unusual herd. To find that many volunteers in just five years. But then another fact dawned on John. "You said a quarter of them used to be wranglers?"

Julia gave him a long-suffering look. "I know, right? So many. I constantly have to look for a replacement. John, I'll be honest. If you come to me and volunteer for my herd, then I'll do it. Make you one of my sheep-girls. But please - PLEASE - try to resist. I won't lie. They are getting crafty. By now they narrowed down their recruitment to a science. Be wary. If you can resist, I promise you I treat my ranch hands well. Good pay and many benefits."

"I think I can see one of the benefits," John remarked as he slowed down to see an unusual display of frivolity. About two dozen sheep-girls sat in a wide circle. Munching on the grass while watching. The center of attention was a blanket spread out. John spotted Ernest half undressed plowing his remaining vestige of maledom into one of the sheep-girls.

"Depends." Julia grabbed John's arm to turn him away from the deviant ongoing and demanded his full attention. "I say this only once. I am very protective of my herd. If they want - and many will want - then you are free to have your fun with them. But consent matters and I won't tolerate any wrongdoings. I am a witch. There are no lies I cannot spot."

The threat was clear and in John's book it marked Julia as one of the good ones. Despite her earlier insisting that she became a bad guy. She wasn't just using the herd for her personal gain. Their protection means something to her.

"Miss Brentess. Julia." John put his hand over his heart. "My momma raised no fool, but a gentleman. Sheep-girl or not, I will treat any lady with the respect they deserve. I vow that on my honor."

"Good." Julia visibly relaxed. "One can't be too careful, you know?"

"I understand," he assured her.

While they talked, Ernest had finished up and hurried over. "Julia. John. How is it going?"

"We nearly finished our tour," Julia replied. "And so far he hasn't run away yet. Despite everyone's antics. A good sign."

"And John," Ernest now addressed him. "Do you think you'll fit in?"

John was a little troubled. He reminded himself to look into Ernest's eyes. Not the shapely body. Her generous endowment, narrow waist, and large hips. Most of all she clearly had one part left that was male. Very much so. John knew Ernest was bigger than him. It was slightly intimidating.

"I might need a bit more time to adjust than usual," John admitted honestly. "This ranch is very different from the rest. But I would lie if I said I wasn't intrigued. So, I'll hope I'll fit in." Just to be clear, he turned to Julia. "As a wrangler. Not as part of the herd."

"We'll see," Ernest remarked and got a glare from Julia in turn.

"How about I show you your accommodations?" Julia suggested. "You can take the day to settle in. Dinner will be in about two hours. Tomorrow, Ernst will show you the ropes."

"Sounds good."

Walking back to the main compound, John had a new question popping into his head. "You said you've taken over a small ranch from the original Julia. This doesn't look small."

"Oh, we had some construction done," Julia admitted. "Most of these buildings aren't very old. You'd be surprised how fast they can build if you throw enough money at a company. In fact, we are already in the stages of planning for a new barn. The herd keeps on growing, you know?"

"How do you keep this all secret?" John asked, baffled. "I worked a year in construction when ranch work had dried up. They won't admit it, but construction workers share as much gossip as anyone."

"Magic," Julia admitted. Then she added a little more. "I adjusted their memories a little. Make them forget what kind of herd and workers I have on the ranch." Her voice took a seriously grumpy tone when she continued. "At least those that left. A quarter of them joined my herd. Well, at least they do some of the minor repair work around here. Who knows? Two to three more buildings and I have enough construction workers in my herd to do future buildings in-house."

"Someone shouldn't have animated a broom," John remarked.

At first, Julia looked confused. When the reference dawned on her, she gave a good-natured laugh. "Oh, yeah. Definitely. Except, I don't need an ax to make my herd multiply. They do it all by themselves."

Julia led him into the main building. It looked less than a rancher's home and more like a hotel. And not one that was going for the rustic feel, despite it being thematically appropriate. Julia gave him a small tour inside, before leading him to his room.

"Here we are," Julia unnecessarily said. "Make yourself at home. I will see you at dinner."

"I will," he promised.

---

John and Ernest left the dining room early in the morning. Their breakfast was taken at the crack of dawn. He was used to getting up early. Ranch work can lead to long days.

"Alright," Ernest said just before entering the barn. "Before we start on the actual herd, it is time to meet your new partner."

Pairing up on a ranch was not uncommon. However, John hadn't expected to be matched up with someone else. "I'd thought you would be my partner."

"Nah, I'll be your mentor alright, but Splits will be your partner." Then Ernest leaned over. In a whisper, she confessed: "Don't tell Julia, but you'll be my replacement."

"You're joining the herd?" John was shocked. He hadn't known Ernest for long, but she appeared to have fun being a stable hand. Why would she switch?

"Shh! Not so loud." Ernest looked around. As no one was near, she relaxed. "Yeah, I'll be joining the herd. But not yet. The herd knows it. Heck, they celebrated their victory long ago. Julia knows it too, but I think she pretends I might change my mind if she just ignores the topic." Ernest gave a good-natured chuckle. "Heck, the last person to know was probably me. The herd has seen plenty of stable hands eventually join. They recognize the signs of someone folding way ahead when the person thinks they are still resisting."

"How soon?"

"Not for a few months," Ernest assured him. "Oh, the herd knows I'll be joining, but my pride makes me push it off. Make them work for it, you know."

"I see," John said but didn't really mean it. He could see no appeal in becoming a sheep-girl himself. Then again, Ernest might have thought the same in the beginning. It was time to focus on the here and now. Whatever unfolds will happen soon enough. "So, who is this Splits? I haven't heard of anyone with that name at dinner or breakfast."

"Oh, she isn't a ranch hand. And she sleeps in the barn. Her full name is Splitting Grass. But everyone calls her Splits. And if we are lucky, she is already awake."

"Her name. Is she - how do I say it - a native American?"

"Nah," Ernest waved him off, but then stopped at a small door. There was a sign on it with a few different names. All of them were quite strange. Splitting grass was among them. "She got it from her habit to race around everywhere. Real firecracker that one. And if she runs into a field of tall grass- Well, you can see her path from far away. Cuts a furrow right through it."

"I can hear you through the door!" The shout made Earnest cringe and take a step back. "Hurry up. You are late."

With a sigh, Ernest stepped forward again. "John, meet Splits."

As Earnest pulled the door open, John mistook the first sight of Splits as a normal human woman. But then the details tickled in. First, she was naked. A habit that many on the ranch shared. Even discounting the herd that only needed their own fleece.

The second was her ears that twitched slightly. They appeared equine. A trend that continued downward. John could see a tail swaying behind her. Her feet ended in hooves that one might mistake for high-heeled boots at first glimpse. Even her hands were exchanged for hooves.

Splits was Caucasian. With her dark skin, one might not guess it if it weren't for some very weird tan lines. Most of her waist was still pink. As were a few lines that might hint at strings of fabric or belts of some kind. Splits was posed on a hay bale left in the center of the room. She clearly had been waiting.

As no one said anything, Ernest entered the room first. "Good morning, Splits. I see you are already awake. Had a good night's sleep?"

"So, you are the new guy?" Splits addressed John. Pointedly ignoring Ernest. "By the way your mouth hangs open, I take it I am the first real ponygirl you see?"

John needed a moment to catch himself. When his mind snapped back to the task at hand, his mouth did double time. "Yes. Yes, mam. Hendricks. John Hendricks. At your service."

"Mam? At my service?" Splits turned to Ernest. "Well, look at that. Someone knows how to treat a lady. You could learn from him."

Splits went even a step further. Standing up, she bent one leg while keeping the other leg straight and a little forward. At the same time, she bowed. An athletic feat that might have landed John on his bum. It was a strange mix of a cutesy and bow that prompted John to give a bow on his own.

"Urg, don't make me gag," Ernest commented on this display. "John, forget all that nonsense. We are here to play dress-up. Not to play pretend tea parties."

"Well, then get to it, dress maid," Splits quipped.

"The first, and most important, step is to gag her," Ernest said with gusto to John. "Because Splits has a temper and quite the mouth on her."

"You aren't really gonna-" John fell silent as Ernest pulled something out of a closet. It was a gag alright. But not just that. There was an unholy amount of metal rings and leather strips attached to it.

"Open up," Ernest commanded. Splits gave Ernest a playful raspberry, before complying. Opening her mouth wide. The senior stable hand wasted no time and popped the rubber bar between the pony-girl's teeth. Then proceeded to wrap the leather harness around her head and tighten the many straps. "Ah! Finally some peace and quiet."

"Is that really necessary?" John asked a little doubtful at the display.

"Okay. Okay. Real talk." All signs of jest and mirth vanished from Ernest's voice. "It is necessary. At least for pony-girls starting out. Splits is relatively new and still needs it. I admit our little banter between us is mostly roleplay. Have a little fun. But here are the facts. There are eight pony-girls on this farm. You are her partner, but you are not the only one. And this is the most important detail: she is not your equal. Neither is she yours to command around. Splits is your immediate superior. At least in the hierarchy of this ranch. Mind your manners, for she is a witch."

"A witch?" The question slipped over John's tongue without thought. There was no reason to doubt Ernest, safe for how Splits was treated. She was muted on purpose, after all. Still, the pony-girl posed proudly upon being proclaimed to be a witch. "I thought the only witch around was Julia. That she transforms any other witch that dares to challenge her."

"She is this ranch's lair witch alright," Ernest agreed. "But Splits and her brethren did not arrive here as witches. Neither did they challenge Julia. They came up through the ranks and proved to be loyal beyond doubt. In turn, Julia taught them how to awake as witches. They, the pony-girls, are the eyes and ears of Julia and second in command."

"Then what is with, well, all of this?" John pointed at the head harness and the transformed parts of Splits' physique.

"Catch!" Ernest threw him a brush instead of answering. She crouched down before Splits who sat on her hay bale again. Motioning for John to do the same. "Let me explain step by step."

Crouching down, John noticed two things. Splits legs had a little fur to them. Not much. Just to conceal the transition of hooves to skin. And the hay bale wasn't really made of hay. It was a firm large pillow made of printed fabric that mimicked hay.

"It all started with Silk. Or Dancing Silk as it is her full name." Ernest's explanation was interrupted by a dismissive snort by Splits. "She doesn't really like Silk. Her being the first pony-girl. But back then, she hadn't been one. Just a normal human."

Ernest motioned for John to gently brush Splits' fur. As he did, she continued. "One of the first spells Julia taught Silk was to enhance running speed and stamina. Which is now a trademark of pony-girls. You should see Splits in full run. Practically flying over the fields. The problem Silk ran into was that she ran through her shoes quite fast. Literally. Sometimes she had run through a pair within one day. The obvious solution might have been to not run around like a maniac on magical steroids for every little errand. But what do I know? Silk asked for a way to run without shoes. Hence the hooves. And the tail. Helps with balance."

"I see," John slowly agreed. It kind of made sense in a twisted way. "But why take her hands? Wouldn't Splits be of more service with having a normal pair of working hands?"

"Ah, yes. That confused me at the beginning too," Ernest admitted. He then took the brush from John and handed him a tool to clean the grime and dirt from under Splits hooves. "You see, learning magic is not always straightforward. Sometimes you need a little help. A trick to get things right. Silk was tired of heaving stuff off the ground. Never been one of the strongest gals around. So, Julia tried to teach her telekinesis. Do you know what that is? Moving objects with your mind. And we are not talking parlor tricks like a pencil. Splits here can lift a pickup truck."

"That is impressive," John admitted. "But it still doesn't explain the hooves."

Splits gave an amused snort. It earned her a glare from Ernest. "I was coming to that. You see, at first, Silk utterly failed at it. She always tried to reach out and make the objects move. Use the force, Luke. Like that. Except, the gesture was more of a hindrance. So, Julia pulled out a trick. She bound Silk's hand up. With no use of her hands anyway, Silk did better. But she instinctively still went for her hands when it came to performing. So, in an even cheekier move, Julia transformed Silk's hands into hooves."

"And that helped?"

"Like a charm," Ernest confirmed. He stood up and motioned for John to do the same. She then handed John a large leather garment with lots of belts and buckles. While he tried to figure out what it was, she continued to educate him. "You see, once her hands were gone, Silk had to acknowledge on a subconscious level that she couldn't rely on them. Her first instinct became not to go for hands that weren't there, but to use magic."

"So-" John looked up from the strange garment. "Once Splits masters telekinesis, Julia will turn her hooves back to hands?"

Suddenly, John lost ground under his feet. Being heaved upward everywhere at once. Slowly drifting towards the ceiling.

"I think that is Splits pointing out she has already mastered it," Ernest remarked dryly. She then turned to Splits. "I think you made your point."

John was let go from one moment to the next. Making him fall a good four feet. Nearly making him lose the strange garment he was supposed to untangle.

"Think about it," Ernest urged him. "Why go back to boring hands when your mind and magic can do everything you need and better. Before you ask, yes, she could dress herself if she wanted. Us doing it for her is a sign of prestige and laziness."

The last word nearly got Ernest's toes stomped, but she had anticipated it - provoked it even - and managed to evade it in time. As if nothing happened, she continued her lecture. "Silk refused to have her hooves taken away for boring human hands. She saw it as a sign of her accomplishment. And it is a reminder - to those who know - how powerful pony-girls can be."

"I guess so," John agreed and then handed over the leather as Ernest lost patience.

"There is just one problem with having hooves instead of hands. Namely, if you run like a maniac. Like these beauties do. Ever got hit by a hoof? Or even strived?" When John winced in painful memory, Ernest took it as a sign. She continued, but not before unfolding the garment in three quick steps. It turned out to be some kind of wide belt or even corset that was put around Splits' waist. "Yeah, it happens to them from time to time. Especially if they run at sixty miles per hour or even faster. Hence this garment comes in."

As Ernest buckled it tight, John could see that it covered exactly the strange tan lines Splits sported. One part even ran through her crotch and returned up on the backside, where it split to accommodate the pony-girls tail.

"So, what we do is restrain them. The arms at least." Ernest showed him in detail which straps went where. Effectively pinning Splits' arms to her side. There was not much give or slack. "Not like the girls need them anyway."

"Alright. That explains the hooves - both of them - and that belt-thingy," John admitted. "But what about her gag? And don't tell me because Splits has a temper." Which John now silently agreed, but didn't voice out loud.

"Same principle with the hands," Ernest proclaimed with a smarty-pants grin on her lips. "Think about it. What magical ability might benefit from taking someone's voice away?"

John didn't have to think long or hard. "Telepathy?"

"Now you are showing your smarts," Ernest said with a nod. "Splits and all the other pony-girls are in constant communication through their minds alone. Doesn't matter where on the farm they are. But it isn't just the pony-girls. The dryads can do it too."

John had more questions, but they died on his tongue when an epiphany hit him. "The dryads don't just act as cornerstones of Julia's lair. They're guardians and spotters. If they notice someone unwelcome approaching, they contact the pony-girls. Who then act as a fast response team to harass and delay the intruder until the heavy hitter arrives. Julia."

"I've never seen it that way," Ernest admitted to an amused snort by Splits. She then cuffed John on the shoulder. "Look here, Mister smarty-pants, showing off."

Being on a roll, John ventured another guess. "And her equine ears are probably to help her receive telepathic messages, right?"

"It was a fluke," Ernest exclaimed while throwing her arms in the air. "It's just to complete the look. I mean, a pony-girl with human ears. Psht."

"Yeah. Yeah." John waved his partner's amusement off. "So, what else? Is Splits ready to hit the field?"

"Not yet. Pony-girls fulfill a few roles around the ranch." Ernest grabbed a small first-aid kit from a shelf. Strapping it to Splits backside. "They help first responders in cases of accidents." The stable hand grabbed a large container. Probably holding a gallon of water. It joined the first-aid kit. "To hydrate the sheep-girls that neglect drinking enough. Happens a lot in summer." At last, she grabbed a blanket.

"Most often, pony-girls don't have much to do," Ernest explained while strapping on the last addition. "They have to stay vigilant and do their rounds. Aside from that, they help us stable-hands out. Either carrying stuff or getting things. They are handy that way. And it alleviates their boredom."

"Got it," John said with a nod.

"Then let's hit the road," Ernest proclaimed while going for the door. "Time for your first official day on the ranch."

---

It's been two weeks since John had arrived on the ranch. Surprisingly, he had hit his groove fast. Despite this ranch being quite unusual in nature. The work itself wasn't very hard either.

It usually starts early in the morning. If he didn't help to get a pony-girl ready, it was his duty to help wake the herd and to get them ready for the day. A task not as easy as he thought and not unlike herding sheep. The real ones.

Sheep-girls slept in one of the large two barns. Most of the center was left free and communal beds hugged the walls. Resembling more large pillows that snaked their way along the edge of the barn. Sheep-girls slept in piles and often shared intimacy. Most often it was just skinship, but John had to get used to seeing orgies and other displays of erotic affection. A trend that penetrated all aspects of ranch life.

The first step is to get them cleaned up. Sheep-girls still had to clean their intimates and rinse off sweat. It was, after all, summer, and the sheep-girls ran around with a fleece on their body. Most compiled without problem when John and the other wranglers herded them through the bathroom area. But there was the fact that some sheep-girls proclaimed the herd had a certain musk to it and they liked smelling it. That washing reduced the musk too much to their liking. Hence the need for the ranch hands to get more proactive.

Once cleaned up, at least the dirtiest bits, it was time for breakfast. The sheep-girls could do without. Happy to munch on grass all day. It was Julia who insisted that the sheep-girls had at least one reminder in their diet of their human nature. Hence a small breakfast. By lunch or dinner, most sheep-girls had eaten enough grass to be full enough and refuse any more food. Of course, there were some picky eaters. Refusing human food outright and proclaiming grass was enough. The stable hands were told to not enforce a human breakfast but entice the sheep-girls. That often meant a wrangler bribing the sheep-girl in question with sex. A step John hadn't taken yet. It was a bit too much for his liking. Verbal encouragement had to be enough.

The next step needed more wrangling of the herd. Most sheep-girls refused to clean their teeth. Stating excuses like "Julia can make me new ones if these go bad" and "I'll be munching on grass in a minute anyway". Other sheep-girls were just lazy. Allowing gracefully to let ranch hands brush their teeth for them. An act that John still found crazy. He refused to do so and stuck to verbal encouragement.

Then the sheep-girls were let loose. They were free to roam the ranch at their own discretion. Though most stuck together in groups. A large part was spent outside, grazing. A task John imagined as quite boring, but they appeared to don't mind. Happily munching on a spot until it was reduced enough to force them to move to the next.

Those that needed more excitement, headed back into the barn. A lot of entertainment was provided. Even a large area that doubled as a cinema. The ranch had access to all the streaming services. Some even that John had never heard of before. There was a fixed schedule for the showings and a small part of his duty was to remind certain sheep-girls when one of their shows would begin soon.

There wasn't much else to do, but look out for his charges. Make sure they got enough shade and drank enough water. With their fleece, it was a real possibility they'll suffer a heat stroke. Aside from looking out for their health, this part of the day was mostly boring. So much that he didn't mind playing fetch if a sheep-girl needed something from inside or elsewhere.

What he didn't provide was entertainment. It was quite common for sheep-girls to get naughty with their assigned wranglers. Not even caring about doing it out in the open. Often drawing a small crowd. John got used to it. But not enough to participate. Or watch. It probably was his upbringing making him a little uptight. While not insistent, some sheep-girls tried. Openly flirting with him and being quite suggestive. So far, they had struck out with him. But every day it was harder to say no.

The evening was like the morning, just in reverse and with more protests. Brushing teeth first. Then making sure the herd washed off most of the grim they accumulated in a day. John thought the gym locker of a football team smelled bad. It was nothing compared to about a hundred sheep-girls that spent most of the day in the sun.

However, today promised to be different. Ernest cuffed him on the side. "Ready for your first shearing day?"

"I've sheared sheep before," John protested. He had grown up on a farm. Sure, they had mostly raised cattle, but a small flock of sheep had been part of it.

Ernest gave him a knowing grin. "Sheep ain't sheep-girl, boy."

Shaking his head, John turned back to his shearing station. The portable contraption and four others like it had found their way into the middle of the barn. Having finished setting it up to his liking, John grabbed for the nearby clipboard with a list on it. His part of the herd to shear. Be it magic or not, the sheep-girls grew their coat of wool faster than normal sheep. That meant they had to be sheared every two months. Half that time in summer. Less for the abundant nourishment for the sheep-girls and more for the fear of a heat stroke.

"Number-" John looked at the list. "Sixty-Three."

The sheep-girl practically jumped at the opportunity to be shorn by him. Rushing forward quite eager. John guessed she would be glad to get rid of the warm fleece and cool down for once this summer. Better than to shear normal sheep. Those were very docile in the whole process, but some acted out. But with sheep-girl - he reasoned - things might be different. They could actually help out.

"Where do you want me?" Sixty-Three asked a second before slipping onto his lap. "Here?" She scooted closer on his leg. Leaning against him. "You could start here. With my chest. Then you can see my perky tits." Before he could say anything, she turned her back to him and spread her legs wide. Trying to pull his arm holding the clipper towards her privates. "Or you could go for my intimates," she cooed. "The wool there is the softest."

John looked a little lost over to Ernest. Begging for help. But she had no problem shearing her assigned sheep-girl, who posed dutifully.

Letting out a sigh, John spoke up. "Please stand up, Sixty-Three."

"But that would be no fun," she pouted.

"Now," he insisted.

"Make me."

John put the clippers aside. Not in the mood for games, he grabbed the sheep-girl by the waist. Lifting her up without trouble. Manhandling the sheep-girl until she was down on the bench and pinned by him. Only then she stopped her struggle. Grabbing the clippers again, John hesitated. Maybe using that much force might land him in trouble. A quick glance behind him scattered his fear. Splits was making her rounds close by and she gave a nod of approval.

Shearing Sixty-Three proved to be a chore. As long as he pinned her down, she played possum. However, the moment John thought she had calmed down and lightened his pinning down of hers, Sixty-Three renewed her squirming and flirting. At last, John released Sixty-Three. Fully shorn and sexually frustrated. John was a professional and wouldn't be that easily swayed from doing his job.

"One hundred and nine!" John called out after he had to dismiss Sixty-Three by lightly slapping her butt with his clipboard to move her along.

The next sheep-girl revealed herself as equally spunky. But worse was Forty-Five who struggled the most. Even managed to grind her shapely butt against John's groin for a few seconds. By now he got the gist. Some sheep-girls liked the struggle. To put up a fight. Probably had a kink to be manhandled too. As the newbie among the wranglers, they probably placed all the trouble-makers in his lot. A fun little needling by the other staff. John would have laughed about it. Except the sheep-girls were getting to him. He was hard as steel in his trousers and had no way to relieve himself.

Finishing the third sheep-girl, John grabbed for the clipboard. "Number eighty-" John broke off with a groan. Of course, she was in his assigned lot too. And naturally, he couldn't see her in the waiting line. "Number eighty-two - Blackie - come here this instant."

His eyes roamed the herd and couldn't spot her. With a sigh, John put down the clipboard and walked into the herd. They parted like the red sea before Moses. Still, no sight of Blackie. "Number Eighty-Two!" he bellowed again. His voice was strict. Unyielding.

"You'll never get me or my fleece!"

The shout came from his left and John's head swiveled in the direction. There! A spot of black wool stood out from the herd. Blackie was hiding behind a few of her fellow sheep-girls, but now her fate was sealed. With a new direction, John directly marched towards Eighty-Two. Again, the herd parted. Suddenly robbing the stubborn sheep-girl of her cover. Before John could reach her, Blackie broke out in a sprint. Just a split second later, John did too.

For a few minutes, they played cat and mouse. Eighty-two was fast and nimble. But John was patient and conserved his stamina. Always keeping her in need of running while doing so himself only if absolutely needed. Eventually, his tactic bore fruit. Exhausted, Blackie hardly resisted as John scooped her up in a fireman's carry and walked back to the shearing station.

Of course, Blackie protested. Even with kicks and punches. John hardly felt them. Eighty-two was holding back. Her defiance and protests were mostly a show. She was the only black sheep in the herd and that came with expectations. Always being up to mischief and hijinks. It took John only a few days to see through it. If determined, Blackie could do a lot of damage, but she limited herself to juvenile pranks.

Trying to pin her to the bench, Eighty-Two nearly gave John the slip again. While she pulled her punches, Blackie did put up a better fight against being shorn. At least, while the clippers weren't near her. While close, her struggling ceased. Both of them didn't want her to get nicked by accident.

After doing the backside, John glanced back to get confirmation from Splits that their wrangling was still on the allowed side. To his surprise, the ponygirl was joined by Dancing Silk. Both looked amused and then, they grinned behind their gag. John found out why a split second later. Blackie had used him being distracted to wiggle free. However, instead of running away again, John stumbled back as the sheep-girl jumped him. Clamping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, Eighty-two used her leverage to plant a deep kiss on John's lips.

For a moment, John was stunned. So much that his tongue and lips returned the caress they got from Blackie's counterparts. It was actually the sheep-girl who broke contact. She leaned closer to whisper in his ears. "So, that's what you want. Seeing me naked? There are rooms we could go to. I wouldn't even mind if you'd take my fleece. I'd even reward you. You must be so frustrated by now. Let me help you relax."

Straining more with his force of will than his muscles, John pried the sheep-girl off him. Lifting her up with his hands on her waist. For a moment, he was tempted by her suggestion. To claim her like a trophy, put her back into a fireman's carry, and take her to one of the backrooms. Especially as she posed in his arms seductively.

When he placed her down on the bench again, he heard disappointed moans and groans around him. The herd had clearly hoped for a different outcome. Sometimes, John hated to be a professional. Grabbing the clippers, he got back to his work.

But Blackie wasn't done with him. Instead of resisting, she now became demanding. Ordering him where to shear and how close to her skin. And while she held still, it was always in a suggestive pose.

At last, with slightly labored breath, John stood up. Blackie was done and - while disappointed - she made it a point of sexily sauntering away. The impulse was there. To follow and take up her offer. Thanks to Blackie and the other three, John was plenty pent up. His gaze fell on the clipboard. Could he stomach another sheep-girl like those four? The answer was not encouraging.

"I'll need a break," he said loud enough that a few stable-hands heard him. He walked away under jibes and a few well-meant jokes.

His feet carried him towards the restroom reserved for the staff. Jerking off in a stall would be a new low point in his career. But what else was he to do?

"Oh, John."

The call came from one of the smaller rooms to the side. Blackie was leaning against the doorframe and motioning for him to join her. His first reaction was to look around. No one paid him or Eighty-Two any attention. As if his feet developed their own mind, they carried him closer. First one step. Then a second. The next one was voluntary by John. Why not? Why shouldn't he fuck a sheep-girl? All the other ranch hands did it too. What was really keeping him from going after her and doing something naughty together?

Faster and faster his feet carried him towards her. She slipped inside and he did too after making sure it would be unnoticed.

"Okay. You win," John relented. "Now you better do good on your promises."

"Now YOU better drop your pants," Blackie retorted.

---

Sometime later, John slipped back out. He couldn't shy away from his duties for too long. It was a walk of shame of sorts. Returning to his station. Maybe if he played it cool, he could still salvage some of his dignity.

"Number fifty-four!" he read aloud from the clipboard.

The sheep-girl in question was only too eager to get shorn. Or maybe just to be close to him. Just as he was about to put the clippers to her, an innocent little comment threw him off. "So, Blackie was your first, huh? Now, I am jealous."

"How did you-" John honestly was confused. He thought they had been discreet. "Did she-"

"I can smell that you had sex," Fifty-Four explained. "And with one of the herd. It isn't that hard to add two and two together. Relax." She cuffed him on the shoulder. "We've been waiting for you to loosen up. Quite a few of us wouldn't mind a tumble with you. Provided you don't retreat in your shell again."

John was a bit at a loss for words. How does one answer that? Maybe by taking the coward's way out. "I'll think about it."

"You do that," Fifty-Four relented. "Meanwhile, how about you get on with it? This sheep-girl won't shear herself. I mean, I could, but the backside is always a pain in the butt."

"Yes, mam."

Dutifully, John obliged. At least one sheep-girl wasn't putting up a fight and let him shear her without trouble. His lucky break didn't last. The rest of his lot was just as rebellious, provocative, and teasing as the first four. And to John's shame, he succumbed four more times to the advances.

It was late in the evening when John finished his last sheep-girl. Tired, he was the last ranch hand to pack up his shearing station.

"Need a hand?" Ernest asked and startled the unsuspecting John.

"I am half-minded to say yes," John admitted. "And the other part of me wants to strangle you for your prank."

"Prank? Me?" Ernest did her best to appear innocent. If John hadn't known better, he might have been convinced. But Ernest wasn't done with her acting yet. "Whatever you mean?"

"My lot of the herd. I got all the rebellious ones. Or those horny to the brim." John took Ernest's laughter as confirmation. "Yeah. Very funny. You know I will get back at you, right?"

"Oh, no. No. No." Ernest pressed out between laughter. It took a few more moments for her to calm down. "I am innocent. You, however, walked right into the herd's trap."

Ernest's confession made John stop tiding up and pay real attention. "What do you mean with trap?"

Ernest gave another chuckle before replying. "The herd. They have you in their sights. And once they made their minds up about recruiting someone, they'll follow a nice simple five-step plan. Refined after dozens of recruits. One might think you'll hardly stand a chance. I mean, their first step was a full success."

John couldn't really see how seducing him would lead to his demise and get him to embrace sheep-girlhood. Then again, if Ernest was to be trusted, there were four more steps waiting for him.

Maybe a bit defensive, John snapped at Ernest. "So, what could I have done to ruin their plan?" Of course, the answer was simple. To resist the herd's advances and not bed any of them. However, John had found out that the practical execution had been indeed difficult.

But Ernest didn't even step as low as pointing out the obvious. Instead, she shrugged. "Honestly. Beats me. But I am probably not the right person to ask. In case you haven't picked up on it yet, John, I am neck-deep in step four of the herd's plan."

Right. John had forgotten, but Ernest had previously admitted to being so close to joining the herd. But her confession now not just reminded him, but illustrated just how easy it was to fall for the herd. There weren't a lot of steps between one and four.

"So, what is step two and how do I avoid it?" John asked. At least, he could learn from the mistakes of his mentor.

Ernest let her hand rest on his shoulder. "Sorry, John. Can't tell you. Not risking the wrath of the herd. Especially so close to joining it. But for what it's worth, I doubt it would help. One can prepare for step two and still be caught off-guard. My advice? Enjoy the spoils of step one as long as you can."

In other words, don't be shy to have sex if offered by a sheep-girl. He might as well enjoy it. Still, futile or not, John vowed to be on the watch for that dreaded step two. He had no intention of joining the herd. But he guessed quite a few wranglers before him had thought the same.

---

John took a deep breath as he stepped out into the early Autumn air. If he had to name the top perks of working at this ranch, then the usual peace and quiet would be in the top five. Most of the days there wasn't much to do. Which gave John time to relax and enjoy.

His moment of peace took a break as someone raced past him. Today, he was partnered with Splits again. Apparently, the pony-girl was in high spirits too. But she showed it in a different way. Just a few seconds after the pony-girl barely missed him, John had trouble finding her silhouette against the horizon.

Not really needing Splits to do his job, John started to wave towards the herd. Urging some to come out. "Come on. It rained in the night. That means the grass is fresh and yummy."

"What would you know about that?" Eighty-Two asked while strolling past him. Of course, it was the raven-colored sheep-girl that gave him spunk. "Did you taste some? Already preparing to join the herd, John?"

"I think I hear a smartass in need of a spanking!" John said in a raised voice. It had the intended effect. Blackie took off in a run and John started to chase her.

For a few minutes, he gave her a good cardio workout. Until Blackie fell down in the grass while heavily breathing. "You win!" she admitted between deep gulps of air.

John came to a stop beside her. Winded, but not completely out of breath. "Did I exhaust your reserve of mischief or do you want me to relieve it in another way?"

The offer was clear. This wasn't the first chase and it usually left Blackie in a mood for something naughty. By now, John had not just gotten used to having sex with sheep-girls of the herd. He actively thought it out. Because why not? The sheep-girls liked it. And he got plenty of fun in return. In the space of his own mind, John might even admit that he was addicted to it. By now, he made love to one of the sheep-girls between ten to twenty times a day. He shouldn't be able to, but Julia had relented and used a bit of magic on him. For all she might act strict and suffering, Julia just couldn't deny a request by the herd. At least, as long as it was halfway reasonable.

He even bedded Splits or another pony-girl on occasions. While fun, it definitely was different. They insisted on being kept in bondage for it, but at the same time, they were demanding. Definitely being the top despite acting submissive.

Blackie meanwhile struck a seductive pose down in the grass. Theatrically, she placed a finger on her chin as if she had to think over his proposal. A sudden "nope" was all he got as she rolled to her feet and casually walked away. Leaving behind a totally confused John. For a minute his brain tried to make sense of it. What just happened? Eighty-two was always horny after their chases. She should have jumped his bones. Instead, she just walked away.

Eventually, John snapped out of it. If Blackie wasn't in the mood, it was her loss. Sure, it left John hanging. But knowing the herd, someone else would pick up the slack. He wouldn't even have to lift a finger.

An hour later, John was even more confused. Not just had he provided his normal duties as a ranch hand, but also provided two sheep-girls with very thorough messages. Each had taken a moment to contemplate his offer of a deeper more intimate message, before thanking him politely and dismissing him. Something was definitely up.

By lunch, John's nerves were a little frayed. No matter where he turned, his advances were shot down. Always politely, but it still hurt his ego. What was wrong with him that he was shunned by the herd? Did he do something? Except, the sheep-girls didn't act hostile towards him. It was the opposite. Most were quite friendly. A few were even teasingly seductive. Yet none slept with him. Every offer he made was repaid with a cold shoulder and some polite words.

"You look a little stressed out," Ernest commented as they herded the sheep-girls back into the barn for the evening.

"I- It's the herd," John complained to his co-worker. Finally having someone to unload was a relief. Maybe the senior wrangler could help him figure things out. "Something is up with them. I must have done something wrong."

"Awww, did someone get addicted to sheep-girl pussy?" Ernest teased. Earning her a deep blush from John.

"No," John immediately shot down the idea. "I am not some nymphomaniac."

"Are you sure?" Ernest stopped John from walking on by grabbing his arm. In a softer voice, she continued. "I mean, be honest. How often each day did you nail a sheep-girl?"

"A dozen times? Probably more on average." Admitting it was like a cold shower for John. "Shit! I turned nympho."

"Don't take it too hard," Ernest said and squeezed his shoulder. "You'll hardly be the first one. By now, the herd counts on it. It is the end of step one, after all."

"Which makes them withholding sex going over to step two," John concluded. "What's next? Offer me sex if I switch to being a sheep-girl?"

"Nah," Ernest dismissed his notion. "Right now, you're quite eager to get your dick wet. No, don't deny it. You have that look in your eyes. I remember it from seeing it in the mirror. Thing is, sheep-girls have no dick, partner. Can't get your dick wet if you ain't have one and the herd knows that."

"So, what then?" John asked. Hoping for an answer that finally made sense.

"Can't tell you," Ernest said with a shrug.

"Oh, come on," John practically begged. "You'll have to know how I can get out of this mess."

"Asks the step two of the step four," Ernest remarked before breaking out in chuckles. John had to be patient before she continued. "I know what is coming. And, in hindsight, I probably was doomed from the start. And before you ask, I can't tell you. Can't risk the wrath of the herd. Not when I am joining them sooner rather than later."

"Thanks." John kicked a pebble to even get rid of some of his frustration. "That helped a lot."

"Okay. Okay. Real talk," Ernest relented. "The next few days, the herd will put up some theatrics. You can either refuse to play your part, or you can dance to the music the herd is playing. Just remember to not give in at the end." She gave him another chuckle. "I certainly forgot. Not that I really mind."

"I will keep that in mind." John hoped it would be enough. Step two had blindsided him after all. He certainly was up against a large opposition. This game wasn't just played one on one. It was John against the herd. Which was slightly terrifying. Sheep-girls might largely be herbivores, but they definitely were hunters and John was their prey. And by now they were very practiced ones at that.

There was only one way out of this, John knew. "Got to stop playing their game."

"Good luck with that," Earnest remarked before heading into the barn. All the while breaking out in fits of giggles. John didn't take it as a good sign.

---

His iron will to not play by the rules of the herd lasted a whole three days. It wasn't exactly blue balls that made him relent. Despite having actual withdrawal symptoms from not getting any sex. No, it was his curiosity that led to his downfall.

"So, why exactly is the herd mad at me?" he asked one afternoon while sitting on a picnic blanket surrounded by sheep-girl. Of course, he knew the herd wasn't really mad at him. They just pretended to.

"We aren't mad at you," Thirty-Nine replied. However, she couldn't look him in the eyes. But John noticed that all the other sheep-girls paid attention. Despite acting like they didn't. "Whatever makes you say that?"

John nearly laughed out loud. It really was as Ernest had said. Like a dance. Each had a role to play. Well, curiosity made him play his part. At least, for now. "Well, first I get bugged to have sex with any number of you. And now that I relented and a few weeks passed, none of you want to bed me anymore. There's got to be a reason."

"Well-" John turned around to see that One Hundred and Seventy-Two had spoken up. "Some of us just think that maybe you take us for granted, you know? We aren't your sex dolls. Just here to satisfy your urges."

John's first instinct was to deny that out loud. But a small part of him cringed at the accusation. Because there was some truth to it he had to admit. He had gotten used to the many times of sex each day. Counted on it that each day someone of the herd would bed him. Of course, intellectually, John knew that the herd was partially to blame. They wanted him addicted to sex with them. All part one of their grand plan to make him want to be a sheep-girl too.

Before John could reply, another sheep-girl spoke up. Saving John from embarrassing himself. "It's also that it has gotten a bit boring. You know. In and out. A few of us think you could try to bring more variety to the table. Maybe try foreplay for once."

John nearly laughed out loud. His parents raised him right. He knew how to treat a lady. They probably didn't think he would take those lessons to his sexual encounters, but he did. John was no stranger to foreplay. In fact, some of the sheep-girls had remarked positively about it before. This newest accusation proved the herd played by a handbook. Slavishly sticking to their five-step plan. For John, it meant the herd had overplayed their hand and he now could see clearly through their bluff. He knew they wanted to fulcrum his new sex addiction. What he didn't know yet was to what end.

"Fair." The small little lie somehow hurt him more than expected. "What can I do about that?"

"Well-" The sheep-girls looked at each other as if in confusion. Or to coordinate their next strike. John guessed the latter.

"There is nothing you can do," Thirty-Nine suddenly burst.

"That isn't fair," Eighty-One immediately jumped to his defense. "At least, John was trying."

"John is a man," Thirty-Nine insisted. Even sitting up straight to underline her argument with dominance. "And men can only think with their dick. Sorry, John, but it's the truth. You can teach men some tricks, but in the end, they only care about dunking their dick. You men just don't know how much pleasure you could give a woman."

"I'll think you're a bit harsh there," Eighty-One decided and crossed her arms while giving Thirty-Nine the evil eye. "I used to be a man and I wasn't like that. And I bet John isn't too."

"I was too," Thirty-Nine admitted. "That's why I know what I am talking about. I thought I knew how to be a good lover. To be a good man. But it wasn't until I became a sheep-girl and experienced the other side, that I truly understood how short I fell. With my knowledge now, I could do so much better."

And there it was. Again, John had trouble not breaking his own poker face. This was the pitch. Become a woman for a while. Check out the other side of the fence. Maybe stay a while. And then, naturally, join the herd. If John was honest, he was a bit confused about how people could fall for it. Sure, some might, but not as many as Ernest made it out to be. So, either there was more to it, or Ernest hyped it up to cover up her shame to have fallen for it.

"Ladies. Ladies." John had to step in. This little argument - no matter how heated it appeared to be - was staged. John was sure of it. Now he needed to develop his own plan. But not while this act continued on. He needed some peace and quiet. "You both have excellent points. In fact, I think I have some pondering to do. If you'll excuse me-"

John stood up from the picnic blanket. Walking casually away while pretending not to have noticed that quite a few sheep-girls tried to hide mischievous grins.

Going for a walk, John had his mind full. Now he knew the herd's angle. The "become a woman to become a better lover" tactic was in his opinion a little bit out there. Not working on him in the least. Sure, he wasn't perfect in the sex department. That he could admit. But he was no slouch either. If the herd wanted him to join them, they had to do better.

"John! John!" Turning around, he saw a sheep-girl with pitch-black fleece sprint up to him. Number Eighty-Two - also known as Blackie - was winded, but fought through it to satisfy her own curiosity. "Did they do it? I bet they gave you the pitch and I missed it. Please tell me you rejected them."

"What pitch?" John wanted to know. Sure, they had implied a lot, but they haven't outright put him on the spot.

"Oh, thank god, I didn't miss it," Blackie exclaimed. She honestly looked relieved. "Don't you dare give in, John. I've got a lot riding on it."

"Well, in order to do that, I have to know what pitch," John reminded her.

"Oh, you know. The pitch. The next step in the plan." As John didn't answer - and portraying a good poker face - Blackie had to explain more. "You do know of the five-step plan, right? Yes, it's supposed to be secret, but we are talking about nearly two hundred sheep-girls. Someone must have slipped up. If not them, maybe a pony-girl or ranch hand."

John had to stifle a laugh. If Blackie wasn't up to shenanigans, she was a decent partner for conversations. Mostly after they had sex. Seeing her now so involved was kind of refreshing. Maybe he could give her a nugget or two of information. "Yes, I know of the five-step plan. And I am not telling who told me."

"Okay, so you know-" Blackie stopped and looked intensely at him. "It was Ernest, wasn't it? Right?" As John didn't budge, she returned to her previous topic. "Right. So, you are aware that the next step is for you to become a woman?"

"Well, I wasn't told what the individual steps include, but it wasn't hard to figure that out," John boasted. "I mean they did try to sell it a little ham-fisted."

"Yeah. That's why I told them it wouldn't work on you," Blackie agreed. "All the theatrics and then they do the pitch."

"Which is?" John reminded her yet again.

"Oh, you know," Blackie rolled her eyes to underline it. "Trying to get you to change for a limited time. Just a week. So, you see what it is like. Then no one would doubt your commitment anymore. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. You get the gist of it, right?"

John gave it a quick thought. The pitch had something. It limited the time for potential recruits. Making it appear more harmless to them. A compromise that left the potential recruit with a sense of control, yet gave the herd a path to advance their five-step plan. In a way, it was smart and made him reevaluate just how bad the acting had been. Maybe it had been part of their dance too.

"I get it," he assured her. "And don't worry. I am not tempted."

"Good." Blackie gave him a nod. For a moment, it looked like she would depart but then continued in a more quiet somber voice. "There is another angle to the pitch they could try. They might call your masculinity into question. Play on your ego as a man. To challenge you to show them how much you can be a man, while physically not being a man anymore. That won't work on you, right? I bet as much. Don't disappoint me and resist whoever comes to make that pitch."

The "thank you" died on John's lips before he could speak it. The sudden concern of Eighty-Two suddenly made a lot more sense. No one needed to come to him to pitch him anything. All the potential recruit needed was the information about the said pitch. Blackie wasn't here out of concern or by happenstance. She was part of the whole production instigated by the herd.

The whole exchange between the herd had been bad on purpose. They counted on it being transparent. It would inflate the ego of whoever figured it out. Cue Blackie with part two. Exploiting the ego of their target further and then smuggling in the pitch without actually pitching it. He should have known Eighty-Two wouldn't just switch sides and suddenly hope he'd resist. The question was: where did he go from here?

"Oh, I will," John promised. None of the angles the herd tried to exploit worked on him. But he doubted they would give up that easily. "You have given me a few things to think about."

"Good." Blackie made for the herd again. Leaving John alone. But not before turning around one last time. "Don't disappoint me, John."

John did only reply with a wave. He had some thinking to do and only limited time. As a wrangler, he couldn't avoid the herd. They were, after all, his responsibility.

---

John knocked on the doorframe to Julia's office three days later. "Do you have a moment?"

Looking up, Julia let out a colorful string of obscenities that ended with: "Jeezus, John. I'd hope you'd last more than three days."

"I am not here to become a sheep-girl," John said as he was waved in and took a seat.

"No, you aren't on that step yet. You are here to ask to become a woman," Julia said with a tinge of bitterness. "Yes, I know of my herd's famous five-step plan. It is the worst kept secret on the ranch. Other ranch hands had at least the decency to resist for a week or two. I must admit you caving in so early is quite the disappointment."

"I am not caving in," John assured her. Seeing her skeptical raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "All the approaches they tried ring hollow. The promise of sex, the challenge of my masculinity, or ego." John gave a good-natured laugh. "No, what did me in was all in my head."

Julia leaned forward and steepled her hands. "Alright. I'll bite. Then why are you here to become a woman?"

"It is the whole setup," John revealed. "Their whole plan hinges on me becoming a woman, right? As if being a woman is inherently better than being a man."

"I doubt it," Julia said involuntarily. Seeing John look at her, she felt the need to elaborate. "I mean I never was a man, but I don't think being a woman is inherently better. It is probably a thing of preference."

"Right. But how can I say I like being a man more if I have never been a woman?" John now asked. "It is my inherent curiosity that led me here, Julia. Not the herd and their little scheme. Becoming a woman is a win-win situation for me. Either I find out I want to remain a man - it would leave me with new insight and empathy for the opposite sex - or I'll grow to love being a woman. In that case, I still win. Because my life would still be better for it, right?"

"Until you end up a sheep-girl," Julia added with a tinge of grumpiness.

"Oh, no. If the herd thinks I'll ever go for step five they just don't know me very well." John shrugged. "Yes, I could see myself caving in to step three or four, but not five. I just don't see the appeal for it. Or rather, I know what the appeal for others might be and that's exactly the opposite of what I am about."

"Fine, I'll hold you to that, John," Julia said while holding out her hand.

As John shook it, his world suddenly lurched. Only for a second, but it changed profoundly. Julia was still the same. Her office too. The same couldn't be said for John. The first thing his mind actively registered was his arm. Or rather, her arm, as it was equally slim and soft as Julia's. Slowly, more and more detail tickled in. Breasts, yes, John definitely had those. Slimmer waist. Wider hips. The whole nine yards. She didn't need to look into her pants to know that much.

"You certainly don't hesitate," John accused her boss.

"The way I see it, John, it is better to rip off that band-aid fast."

"Gotcha. But let's not do that whole male name for a woman thing," John suggested. "I had enough of that with Ernest. Still feels wrong every time I call her that."

"Glady," Julia agreed. "So, what do I call you?"

"Let's go with Jo for now," the gender-bend ranch hand suggested. "Temporary. Either I return to being John or-" Jo shrugged. "If I remain a woman I'd probably find a better name."

"Knowing my herd, you probably can start looking for a permanent name." Then Julia sobered up a bit. "As long as you don't exchange it for a number, you hear me, Jo?"

"Yes, mam," Jo said and gave a flippant salute.

"Go find Ernest or another ranch hand," Julia suggested and dismissed Jo at the same time. "We got a lot of discarded clothes from those who joined the herd. If you really want the whole female experience, you might as well dress right."

"Will do," Jo promised, before leaving the office.

---

Jo drew all the eyes as she entered the dining room used by the ranch's staff. It wasn't her beauty that warranted the attention. She was a looker - that much she had confirmed by peeking at a few mirrors - but she hardly was the only one. The whole ranch was a pile-up of supermodels. And, until now, John had been the odd duck out. As Jo, she blended right in.

It probably was the fact that she wore ill-fitting clothes. Or that she was a new face that no one had seen yet. Spotting her target, Jo marched right towards her.

Ernest, of course, didn't need long to put two and two together. Raising her glass of cola, she bellowed a toast. "John! Welcome to womanhood."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," Jo waved her off. "And it is Jo for now. I am not doing that whole male-name-while-being-a-woman-game just to annoy my co-workers."

"Arg!" Ernest exclaimed while slumping forwards as if someone had struck her from behind. "Et Tu, Brute?"

"Should I get a real knife?" Jo asked dryly.

"No, the metaphorical one was enough," Ernest waved her off. Then leaned forward. "I'll have you know, between my legs I am still plenty of male."

Jo couldn't stifle a groan. "You done? Julia mentioned something about a storage room with clothing."

"Oh, my little Josephine's first time dressing up." The senior stable hand practically jumped up. "And you came to Mama Ernest for advice."

"It's Jo. Not Josephine," Jo corrected her.

"Not Josephine?" Ernest asked while grabbing Jo by the shoulders and leading her out. "Well, Jolene, we can get you dressed, but please don't-"

"If you start singing, I'll get a real knife," Jo promised. "And it is just Jo. Not a short form of anything."

"Yeah. Yeah," Ernest dismissed the protest while leading the newly made woman through lesser-used hallways of the main building. While Ernest didn't sing Jolene by Dolly Parton, Jo was exposed to a pretty good hummed version.

Arriving at their destination, Ernest opened a door and flicked the light switch. Revealing a surprisingly large room that could have been the lost and found of an airport. High industrial shelves were filled to the brim with old baggage and hard cases.

"Welcome to Julia's Second-Hand Emporium," Ernest exclaimed. "Whenever someone joins the herd, they usually leave behind all the clothes they arrived with. We store them until we have enough to donate a truckload. Don't bother with the shelves marked blue," she explained while pointing at most of the shelving. "Over here we have the red shelves. These are the belongings of former ranch hands that joined the herd. And as most of them had been women by the design of Julia, their wardrobe fits us pretty well."

"So we all have the same measurements?" Jo asked. She had noticed that most female ranch hands sported very similar bodies.

"The way Julia explained to me, she just applies templates," Ernest explained while pulling out one of the larger pieces of baggage. "For us stable hands it is not as strict. Yes, our measurements are nearly identical. But we retain some facial features and things like hair and eye color. The template for sheep-girls is more strict. They all look the same. That's on purpose. The herd wanted it that way."

"So, where does one start?" Jo asked while pulling something out herself. Opening it up, she was greeted with a pile of unsorted, but clean female garments. It was a little intimidating. Not that she would admit as much. But she had no clue how to assemble a female wardrobe.

As an answer, a bra landed squarely in Jo's face. "With underwear, of course," she heard Ernest say between fits of giggles. Annoyed, Jo grabbed for the bra, but as soon as her view was free of lace, a matching pantie landed on her head.

"I figured that out already. The outer stuff might be more of a challenge."

As Jo looked around for a place to change, Ernest had some wise words for her. "Look. You got nothing I ain't seen before."

"Fine!" Jo exclaimed and proceeded to push down her pants. Or tried. It was apparent that Julia liked her girls with plenty of junk in the trunk. The moment Jo had left her office, she had popped all but one button of her pants. Still, it had been a tight affair. Now she had to practically peel off her old male jeans. Her boxer shorts might as well join the trash. Quite a few stitches had snapped under the newfound pressure of Jo's posterior.

The panties required a bit of wriggling but fit perfectly once in place. The bra took longer. Getting into it was the easy part. Getting the small hooks into their latches while behind her back was a challenge Jo hadn't expected. Of course, the silent judgment by Ernest didn't help. She tried to hide her amusement as Jo struggled. Not very successfully.

At last, Jo snapped the hooks in place. At least, they felt like they were placed right this time. Not that Jo had much experience with it. Bras were something John helped others get out of. Not getting in. Leaving now Jo with not much experience to go on with.

"I think you need more practice," Ernest commented unnecessarily. "Next, how about this."

"I think half of it is missing," Jo remarked as she took a small lump of jeans material. Unfolding it, she nearly groaned as it revealed itself as hotpants. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What? If you got it, flaunt it." As this logic didn't work on Jo, Ernest tried again. "And it is sort of a tradition around here. No way you could hide a dick in there. It shows the herd that step two was successful."

"It wasn't," Jo murmured, but didn't choose to elaborate as Ernest quirked an eyebrow. She wasn't ready yet to reveal her real reason. Curiosity might as well be her kryptonite. If the herd found out, surely they would use it against her. Instead, she grabbed the offending garment.

Getting into the hotpants up to her hips proved to be no challenge. But then Jo had to fight to get it over her butt. At last, it shifted into place. It was a tight affair. "Are you sure this is the right size, Ernest? Feels like one or two too small."

"Nonsense," Jo's co-worker replied while handing her a shirt. "Hotpants need that painted-on look."

Jo took the chequered button-up shirt and looked it over. Something struck her as wrong. Slipping into it revealed some flaws. "I think this one was washed too hot. It fits around the shoulders, but look, the back is way too short and the front part looks worn-out and stretched."

"Jo. Jo. Jo." Ernest rolled her eyes as if Jo had just said the most stupid thing. Definitely, she grabbed the two front pieces that offended Jo with their length and tied them together just below the breasts. Leaving Jo's midriff exposed and her breasts smushed together and lifted up. "Everything is as it is supposed to be."

"Are you sure? Ow!" Jo shook her hand that Ernest had slapped away. Apparently, she wasn't supposed to button up that shirt. Leaving her cleavage on full display.

Ernest just gave her a stern look, before shoving two cowboy boots into her hands. Both had a small heel, but Jo was used to them. John had grown up on a ranch. Of course, he had worn cowboy boots before. A lot. Jo should be fine as long as the heel wouldn't increase drastically.

As Jo stood up in her new boots. Ernest placed a matching cowboy hat on her head. "The finishing touch," she proclaimed, before rolling out a floor-length mirror, so that Jo could see herself.

Jo's jaw nearly hit the floor. "I look like-" Her mind needed a moment to process the image and come up with a fitting description. "Like a playboy bunny who has never set foot on a farm doing a photoshoot as a cowgirl."

"Well-"

"No, not quite," Jo corrected herself. "More like one of those popstars dressing up for a music video that features them doing country music for the first time and trying to mask their lack of talent with sexiness. I swear if you ask me to wash one of our pick-up trucks while dressed like that-"

"That wasn't the plan," Ernest assured her. "But now that you mention it, I bet-"

"Seriously, I look like a porn actress," Jo interrupted Ernest. "One ready to give a low-IQ monologue just to give an excuse to jump someone's bones."

"So?" Ernest waited if Jo had another remark up her sleeve. When none came for a few seconds, she tried again. "I take it you don't like the outfit?"

Jo nearly scoffed. Of course, she didn't like it. It made her look hot. Like a sexual beast of a woman. Just looking at the mirror gave her a blush. Made her feel a little warm all of sudden.

Jo's train of thought suddenly derailed. Starring back was not John who she might objectively rate a seven or eight. Her former male self certainly was attractive and popular with the ladies. But what starred back from the mirror was altogether another animal. Jo's new body was definitely a ten and the outfit boosted her to an eleven. On a scale of one to ten, that was quite the feat.

The longer she looked at her reflection, the more Jo had to revise her opinion. She was a knock-out now. A thought alien to Jo, but it grew on her. Maybe Ernest was right. Jo could flaunt it because she definitely had it.

"It's alright," Jo eventually said aloud. Trying to keep her voice steady and nonchalant. "I don't think this will do for casual wear." Yet, Jo couldn't bear to dismiss this outfit. A part of her needed to keep it. "Might be good to have it on hand though. As a reward. For the herd! You know, as a treat if they behave."

"Yes. For the herd," Ernest echoed her with a voice that expressed doubt. "Now then, shall we find six more outfits?"

"Why six?" Jo wanted to know.

"For the rest of the week?" As Jo didn't take the bait, Ernest got more explicit. "You know. The whole being a woman for a week deal? One outfit might not be enough."

"See, that's why the herd failed with their pitch," Jo pointed out. "I know the herd wants a week to have proper time to convince me. But I have my own plans. I gave Julia no fixed date for changing back."

"I see," Ernest said aloud. But couldn't help to mutter under her breath: "Sounds like step three is concluded before it even started."

"What was that?" Jo asked despite having heard Ernest just fine.

"I said, in this case, just fixed outfits won't do." Ernest rubbed her hands like a cheesy cartoon villain. "Let's start with basic color theory and we go from there."

At that moment, Jo knew two things. One, this might have not been a good day after all and two, this would be a long evening.

---

Stepping out of the breakfast room, Jo barely could stifle a yawn. Not so the slight shiver. It was early autumn and despite the early hour she already could feel the temperature rising for another promised hot day. But it wasn't there yet and she wasn't exactly dressed for the early temperatures.

Of course, she didn't wear the first outfit Ernest suggested. She was here to babysit a herd of sheep-girl. Not to film a porno. However, her chosen outfit wasn't much better to keep out the chill.

Jo had chosen a light blue chequered button-down shirt. One that actually covered her midriff, but left her arms exposed to the morning air. Her jeans were too long to be called hotpants but stopped above her knees. While her soft brown cowboy boots covered up some, much of her legs were still exposed to nature. And the looks of fellow ranch hands and the herd. Rounded off was the outfit by a straw hat. But not the typical one. It was a hand-made one in Panama. Complete with the black ribbon. Jo didn't care that Ernest doubted it would work with the outfit. Jo always wanted to wear one and today was the day.

She hurried over to the barn, but then stopped at the entrance. Gathering courage. It took her long enough for other wranglers to arrive.

"Nervous?" Ernest asked as she came up.

"I am not scared of the herd," Jo declared and hoped her false bravado masked her lie. Before Ernest could take a dig at her, Jo pushed inside.

"Good morning ladies!" Her voice boomed through the barn. As always only a few sheep-girls were already awake. Others reluctantly woke up. It could take some time until they all were awake. Usually, a half-hour with personal wake-up calls to a number of sheep-girls who refused to get up. Today, it went faster. Those first to get up prodded their brethren and pointed to Jo. Murmurs filled the barn.

When most of the sheep-girls were awake, Jo walked to the middle of the barn. It was time to address the elephant in the room. She wasn't sure how previous ranch hands had handled this, but Jo was used to tackling problems head-on.

"My name is Jo," she said loud enough that everyone could hear her. "I am not new. You previously knew me as John. For the next few weeks, I will be in this form. With that out of the way, time for your morning showers. Move. Move. Move."

Most of the sheep-girls complied. Their usual grumbling was replaced today by murmurs and glances towards Jo. Of course, quite a few steered against the current and made for Jo.

"I won't answer any questions right now!" Jo shouted to stifle any curiosity. "Maybe once you showered and brushed your teeth."

That deterred some, but a familiar black coated sheep-girl still came closer. "So, is it Jo now? Short for- ?"

"Not short for anything," Jo reaffirmed again. "Come on. To the baths you all go."

"Maybe Jocelyn?" One sheep-girl mused aloud. "She looks like a Jocelyn."

"More like a Josephine," a second pitched in.

"Nah. You are both wrong!" Blackie exclaimed. "It is clearly short for Jol-"

Jo clamped her and over number Eighty-Two's mouth, but it was too late. Ernest's voice rang out in song. "Jolene. Jolene. Joleeennneee! I am begging you-"

"Now look at what you've done," Jo said with a groan. "It's Jo. And whoever isn't under the shower by the count of ten, gets to hear an encore by Ernest."

Just a few seconds later, Jo was free of sheep-girls. But not of a certain wrangler. "I am not that bad," Ernest complained. "Right?"

"I think Guantanamo Bay called. They want to book a stop there for your next tour." Laughing, Jo was chased by Ernest to the showers too.

---

Jo stepped out of the barn and into the sun. It felt nice on her exposed skin and she closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she could pretend she wasn't the focus of the whole herd. Of course, it didn't last. There was work to be done. Yet today, Jo had to navigate a different hurdle all together.

"Step three, here we come," she murmured under her breath before joining the herd on the field.

Mentally, she prepared herself. While no one had mentioned details about step three, Jo could guess what it was. If step two was to get her to become a woman, then step three must be to convince her to stay one. However, how exactly was yet unknown to her.

Jo had decided to resist. Not too much, but she wouldn't roll over either. She had decided to give being a woman an honest shot. That meant, she couldn't let the herd sell her a cotton candy version of being one. But she couldn't close herself off completely either.

A sudden gust of wind blew her straw hat clean off. Picking it up, Jo found out that it hadn't been an accident. A long furrow in the grass and a ponygirl that now circled her, clued Jo in that Splits had spotted her and came here to get a better look. And as Splits usually did she ran. Walking like a normal person was beneath her.

"And? What is the verdict?" Jo asked while putting her straw hat back on. "You like?"

In response, Splits came closer and rubbed her flank against Jo's hip.

"I take that as a yes."

Splits took off again. Just a few feet to get some distance. She then eyed Jo again. Not for long as she displayed a devious smile around her bite-gag.

The top-most button of Jo's shirt suddenly popped off. Flying in a high arc and landing before Splits hooves. A second later the next button popped off. Someone played dirty with their telekinesis.

"Splits!" Jo started to chase the mischievous pony-girl. Successfully driving her off, but the damage was done. She now displayed much cleavage as Splits had managed to tear off six buttons in total. There was no way for Jo to cover up again. Unless she went to change shirts.

"Looks good." "Very sexy." "Julia has outdone herself."

A shower of compliments rained down on Jo. The nearby sheep-girls used the opportunity to flatter Jo's ego. She had expected as much. And as much as she tried to keep humble, a part of her loved it. Who didn't like compliments? It was nice when someone paid attention to you. Hence Jo's need to drink up the attention. That couldn't hurt, right?

As sheep-girl one hundred and forty-two trotted up, Jo mentally prepared herself for the next move by the herd. "Hey, Jo. It is Jo, right? Good. Uhm. Looks like it will be a sunny day and I forgot to get sunscreen."

Jo relaxed. It was an ordinary request. With the sheep-girls spending so much time outside, protection against the sun was a must. Most of their bodies were covered by wool, but places like their face, neck, and hands were prime spots to get sunburned. Normally they applied sunscreen before heading outside, but now and then a sheep-girl eager to get out slips through the cracks.

"No worries. I can fix that," Jo promised. However, fulfilling it was a little harder than expected. Normally, pony-girls carried sunscreen among other things. It was as easy as walking to the next pony-girl and getting a bottle. However, the pony-girl for Jo's part of the herd was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it, Splits," she muttered under her breath.

"Be right back," Jo told number one hundred and forty-two. Now she had to walk all the way back to the barn. Yet an opportunity presented itself halfway there. Dancing Silk - another pony-girl - cut through the field close by. And contrary to Splits. Silk wasn't always running.

"Silk!" Jo shouted out. The pony-girl stopped and looked around. Spotting Jo walking towards her, she turned to meet Jo.

"I only need a bottle of sunscreen," Jo said and Silk dutifully turned around so that Jo could get it. "Thanks. You are fine, right? Already got sunscreen on you?"

The pony-girl stomped once as an affirmative and then walked away. Jo couldn't help but stare after her for a few seconds. Dancing Silk was a sight to behold. Her dark brown skin stood out in the field. But what made her special was her white hair styled in many small braids. From up close, her hair looked nearly translucent.

Shaking off her mesmerized state, Jo returned to her assigned post. Holding up the bottle of sunscreen triumphantly. "Let's get you protected, one forty-two."

"Me too!" another sheep-girl exclaimed when Jo was halfway done. A half dozen other sheep-girls followed.

Jo gave a small sigh. It looked like quite a few slipped through the cracks today. Not that Jo minded. Applying sunscreen to beautiful women was hardly any work in her eyes.

"Thanks!" the last sheep-girl exclaimed when Jo finished her off. "Now we do you."

Jo laughed. "That won't be necessary. I already have some on me?"

The small group of sheep-girls giggled. "Really? Everywhere?" Pointing right at Jo's exposed cleavage.

"Urg, Splits," Jo cursed under her breath again. However, before she could address the issue, she was tackled not just by one sheep-girl, but a half dozen.

Lips locked onto Jo's own and someone started to fondle her breasts expertly. Getting her worked up in no time. Maybe it was the fact that everything felt new, that made Jo hardly resist. Even welcome the attention. Or the fact that she was a nympho who hadn't been laid in days.

Hands caressed her. How many she could tell or cared to find out. More than one sheep-girl. That was for sure. It devolved into a gang bang.

As another pair of hands gently pushed at her tights, Jo eagerly opened her legs. She wanted to be fucked. It didn't matter who. Even Ernest would be okay. However, instead of something stiff pushing into her, it was something dexterous and wet that wormed its way in. Jo squealed in delight. Then lips closed around her most intimate spot and all thoughts started to elude Jo.

---

Jo groaned and put a hand over her eyes. Waking up while being bathed by the sun was nice. Less so if one was blinded by it. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts and memories.

She remembered how she started her day. Then the errant for sunscreen, followed by- Memories of a marathon of orgasms flashed behind her eyes. How many did she have? How many had she given? It all blurred together. But she remembered one little fact: it had been awesome.

When Jo heard steps in the grass beside her, she peeked between her fingers. It was Ernest who walked over and sat down beside her. Jo already braced for a stupid joke, but none came. Her mentor patiently waited for Jo to speak up first.

But what was there to say? That sex had been awesome? The fact that she got addicted all over again? No, it was more than that. Jo felt glad that she was a woman. That she, as John, had taken the step to explore the other side. Right this moment, Jo didn't regret it in the least. Would she one day? Somehow, she doubted it. Then again, it might be the last traces of orgasmic bliss speaking that muddled her mind.

"I concede," Jo finally spoke up. "Tell the herd that step three was a success."

"I am doing no such thing." Utterly surprised, Jo rolled onto her side to get a better view of her mentor. Ernest continued a moment later. "Don't look at me like that. Yes, they fucked your brains out. Whoop-di-doo. The herd is known for that. Right now you are floating on cloud nine. Or the equivalent of- Never mind that. Being a woman is more than sex, you know? You had the right idea all along. It takes time to see if it is right for you. No matter how good sex is you can't have it all the time. No one can."

"Yeah," Jo said while laying back down in the grass. Honestly, she was a bit surprised to hear such wise words from her. Normally Ernest was a goofball and every piece of advice was laced with humor. Jo would think later about it. Right now, she was still tired. Would anyone protest if she took another nap? Well, she could at least close her eyes for a few more minutes.

"The way you lay there-" Jo nearly groaned as Ernest spoke up again. Internally bracing for some joke. "Perfect for a money shot."

Something wet splattered all over Jo from head to belly. Opening her eyes she found splotches of something white and sticky scattered on her skin. "Eww, Ernest!"

"What?" the stable hand asked in innocence. "Sunscreen is important, remember? And you're more exposed than ever."

Ernest walked away laughing. Not seeing that Jo shook her fist at him. Well, at least this practical joke had woken her up completely. And Ernest was right. She was more exposed than before. Being completely naked was the definition of it.

With a sigh, Jo started to spread the spilled sunscreen over her skin. It evoked memories of other hands roaming and massaging her body. She could feel a blush coming on. One that might make people think she already was sunburned.

Once finished, Jo tried to reach for her clothes. Only to find a whole load of nothing. The culprits were easy to spot. Eighty-two didn't even try to hide that she had Jo's left boot. The rest of her clothes were not much better hidden by various members of the herd. It looked like to get decent again, Jo had to either walk back to her room and get a new outfit, or she had to track down each part of her last outfit.

"Scavenger hunt it is," Jo murmured before getting up on her feet.

---

"Down with the government! Don't be part of the masses."

"Not so loud," Jo winced and gave Eighty-Two a playful slap on the butt. A feat rather easy as the sheep-girl was propped on Jo's shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Eighty-two actually gave a "Sorry." before continuing, but at half the volume. "Fight the authority. Don't be sheeple."

"Jolene!"

"It is Jo," she corrected as she twirled around. Giving Eighty-Two a good spin at the same time. "And you know it is, Ernest."

Instead of giving a retort, Ernest appeared to be rather somber while walking up. Even her tone of voice was all business. "Put down Eighty-Two, Jo."

"What?" Despite her confusion, Jo complied. Gently setting the sheep-girl down. "Did I do something?"

Ernest ignored Jo for a moment. "Blackie, scram."

"But we were in the middle of-"

"Go pester Rodrigo. He can use the workout."

Pouting, the sheep-girl walked away. Leaving Jo even more confused. "Seriously. What's up?"

"Today, it is the last Wednesday of the month," Ernest proclaimed. "And you know what that means, don't you."

"Yeah. More work," Jo sighed. "You, Julia, and a few others go out for-"

"Ladies' night!" Ernest shouted out while breaking into a wide grin. "And since you've been a woman for two and a half weeks- Well, hardly a lady, but we need sheriff bait."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it," Ernest waved her off before hooking her arm around Jo's and leading her to the main building. "It's still a bit early, but we need the time to get you ready."

Honestly, Jo was intrigued. And now that she thought about it, this was a good opportunity. But she couldn't let Ernest off easily. "And who says I even want to come?"

"Someone proclaimed she wants to experience what it means to be a woman," Ernest said without missing a beat. "Now is your chance."

"Alright. Alright." Jo relented. But as they took a corner away from her room, she grew confused again. "Where are we going?"

"To the baggage claim, of course," Ernest said before dropping the next revelation. "We need to find you a dress. Something skimpy and fun."

"But-"

"And heels!"

"Oh, no!" Jo actually grew a bit pale on her face. "I don't think I can handle them."

"Today you will learn, girl." Ernest gave her a malicious chuckle. "Today you will learn."

---

Two hours later, Jo exited the main building. Walking at a snail's pace and clinging to Ernest. Most of her was exposed as she only wore panties and a glittery dress that left her backside so much exposed, Jo feared a stiff gust of wind might tear it off her body. Worse were the strappy heels she wore. Not the highest Jo had ever seen in her life, but definitely the highest she had ever worn.

"I will so get back at you for this," Jo whispered to Ernest.

"Promises. Promises," Ernest muttered before speaking up. "And I am only following orders."

"Nice," Splits commented as she joined the pair heading for one of the SUV's the ranch owned. It was a strange look seeing her not in her usual pony-girl garb, but in normal human clothing. Especially since she still had her equine features.

"It will do," Julia commented, who leaned against one of the SUVs. However, she soon was a little annoyed with Jo's slow progress. "Let me help you with that."

All of the sudden, Jo knew how to walk in high heels. Gone were the clumsy little steps. She could walk without help. "How- ?"

"Skill transference spell," Julia said. "Or knowledge. Both if need be. However, it only works for half a day. So, you might want to get a little practice in after your working hours."

Jo gave a non-committal shrug in reply. She pretty much had already decided to stay a woman, but that didn't mean she had to be a girly-girl. Tomboy was fine. Better yet, it was fitting for her job.

The four of them filed into one SUV while three more ranch hands and another pony-girl took the other. Jo thought the pony-girl was Gentle Sway, but she wasn't certain. To Jo's dismay, it was Splits who drove. That she steered with telekinesis instead of hooves on the wheel was unusual, but not what scared the crap out of Jo. Splits drove as she ran. Full tilt.

"So-" Jo clamored for words to distract herself while being driven by a lunatic. "You are leaving the ranch, Julia. I thought that was a no-go for a lair-witch."

"Normally, yes," the witch agreed. "Ladies' night takes a lot of prep. Two days to set up an emergency teleport. If a dryad spots anything they can activate the prepared spell and poof, I am back at the ranch. Splits and Sway have set up a warding spell around the bar. The wrong kind of witch enters and poof, I am gone again."

"And most important of all," Ernest interrupted. "They get magically sober. Because Splits and Julia usually drink like the world is ending tomorrow."

"Snitch," Julia hissed, but the smile on her face told Jo she wasn't serious.

"We are here," Splits announced and a second later Jo had to fight not to hit the headrest before her with her face.

"Darn it, Splits," Ernest cried out. "Can't you - for once - drive normally?"

"What?" the pony-girl asked innocently. "I held back today. Can't have Jo pass out before the fun starts."

Instead of getting between the two, Jo rushed to get out of the car. Fresh air greeted her and Jo was grateful for it. Less so the view that unfolded before her. The landscape hadn't changed much from that of the ranch. It was the roadside tavern that gave Jo pause. It didn't look as run down as some others that she had frequented as John. It was the sign that was curious. Whatever the original name of the bar was, a neon sign was jury-rigged and dangled over the entrance that proclaimed the name "Lez'Drink".

Jo's mind needed a moment to catch up. "Is this a lesbian bar?"

"Today it is," Splits proclaimed while pushing open the door with her mind and stomping in.

"This is 'Chuck's Bar'," Ernest explained while slowly herding Jo inside too. "Owned by Jeff. No, don't ask. We don't know either. Anyway. Once a month Jeff hands over the keys to his sister Ann. And the result is 'Lez'Drink'."

Only now, as they entered the bar, the second SUV arrived at the parking lot. Jo shook her head in amusement. Splits was really a hell of a driver. And not in a good way.

The inside had the typical roadside tavern look. One might describe it as a rustic charm. Others might say a mess of things cobbled together. Various pictures and trophies lined the wall. Most of them Jo couldn't see as someone had drabbed large posters of scantily clad women over them. Jo never had visited a lesbian bar before, but she doubted this was the usual. It looked a bit tacky.

Splits was already floating two large pitchers of beer over to one of the larger tables. Behind her, a conga line of mugs floated after her. So much for keeping their magic a secret. The normal reaction to seeing magic in action was to run away as fast as one could. For usually, the magic user was a fashion witch, and who wanted to end up as a sentient garment? But the few patrons of the bar didn't even look up. They were probably used to seeing Julia and her pony-girls around and rated them as harmless.

As Jo took a seat, she looked around. Her curiosity once again got the better of her. Surrounding a billiards table were a group of college-age kids. Jo didn't know which ruleset required beer mugs to be placed on the playing field, but a few spills wouldn't really hurt the table. It already looked like it had seen a few.

The woman sitting at the bar was more up to Jo's taste. She looked buff. Not like those bodybuilders who overdid it, but definitely a regular gym-goer. She didn't look butch either. Long hair trailed down to her waist. Sadly, Jo couldn't see her face as the lady was deep in a conversation with the barkeeper and her back was towards Jo. She, at least, had dressed up. As in actually wearing a dress.

Jo did a double-take. College kids, nope. Her companions, also a bust. "Am I the only one wearing a skimpy dress?" Jo burst out and elicited a bunch of laughs and giggles. "I look like a needy tart who desperately wants to get laid."

The reply came quick and in unison. "Sheriff's bait!"

The group's shout drew all eyes. Even from the person sitting at the bar. It was more attention than Jo liked, who turned to the side while blushing. Hastily hiding her face behind a mug while shugging the contents.

"Easy there," Ernest said while gently pulling Jo's arm down. "Have you eaten yet? Bad idea to drink on an empty stomach. And before you say anything, keep in mind that you have a new body now. Whatever alcohol tolerance you had is gone. You need to build up a new one."

"Oh, don't be a party pooper," Splits spoke up. "Let Jo drink. She could use some loosening up."

"Actually-" All eyes turned to Jo again. "Food sounds amazing."

"Then let's order," Julia decided. "As long as you don't mind if it is deep-fried."

By the time their food arrived, Jo was on her third beer. Others were a little further. She could swear Splits had alone emptied one pitcher. The food was greasy but good. Exactly what she needed right now. Thankfully ladies' night was only once a month. Else, Jo doubted she could keep her new sexy figure. Then again, she could probably pester Julia for some magic help if she ever filled out too much.

Washing down the last bits of onion rings, Jo reach for the pitcher to fill up, but was disappointed that it was empty. She doubted this would mean the end of the evening. "Next one's on me," Jo said before grabbing the two empty pitchers and walking towards the bar.

It wasn't far away, but it was enough time for a bunch of thoughts to race through her mind. She was so glad for Julia's spell. She could barely walk in high heels before. Now she had three beers down and was a bit tipsy, to say the least. Jo doubted she could have made a step now without that spell and staying on her feet for more than a second.

Each step also brought her closer to the mystery woman who still talked to Ann, the barkeeper. As Jo got closer, both women looked at her, and she got her first glimpse of the buff lady. She was gorgeous, Jo decided in a split second. Or rather her heart did. She wasn't the classical beauty, but somehow her minor flaws only made her more attractive to Jo.

Fighting off a blush, she put both empty pitchers on the counter. "Two more?" Ann asked before Jo could say a word.

"One for now."

Ann gave a laugh. "Dear, that means you have to walk twice rather sooner than later."

"Give her some slack," the woman beside Jo said generously. "Missy here hasn't been a woman for less than three weeks. I am surprised she hasn't stumbled once with those shoes. Someone skipped the training wheels and went for the challenge."

"I had help," Jo admitted, a bit subdued.

"I am Bernadette." The lady extended her hand in greeting.

"Jo," Jo said. Hoping - praying - her hand wasn't too sweaty as she shook Bernadette's hand. "So - uhm - you know about that-"

"You were a man?" Bernadette leaned over and continued in a hushed tone. "Here is a secret. I do have a few spies at the ranch."

And then she winked at Jo. Such a small little gesture, but it was what did do Jo in. Right then, she knew she was falling for Bernadette. Hard. And she wasn't sure she minded. She rather liked it.

"You don't mind?" Jo asked while nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Depends," Bernadette said, before leaning back to give Jo a critical once over. "You know the ultimate test to find out if you have what it takes to be a woman?" When Jo gave a shy shake of her head, Bernadette turned to the barkeeper. "Ann, if you don't mind, music please."

Music? Jo's eyes went wide. She had many talents, but dancing definitely wasn't one of them. Too late, she noticed that Bernadette had taken her hand and gently pulled her towards an open space someone drunk enough might call a dance floor.

On cue, music started to play as they reached the middle of the open space. Bernadette had no problem cutting loose. Showing plenty of moves. Jo tried her best, but her dancing skills had never progressed that most men knew as awkward shuffles.

"No. No. No." Bernadette came closer. Only inches separated them now. "You have to move your hips." Deftly, Bernadette placed her hands on Jo's hips. Pushing and pulling until Jo learned to gyrate her buttocks to the beat.

"Better," she whispered just a stretch away from Jo. In fact, Bernadette was so close that Jo was tempted to kiss her. There was no time like now, Jo decided and leaned in. Their lips met and Jo's stomach did a somersault of happiness. Bernadette was eager too. Coming closer and letting go of the notion of dancing. They still moved. Grinding against each other.

Eventually, the need for air broke them apart. Breathing heavily their bodies clung together as if glued together. Bernadette was the first to recover. She leaned in again and Jo braced herself for the next kiss. Instead, Bernadette let her lips hover close to Jo's ear.

"Want to get out of here?"

The whispered words vibrated through Jo. Even more their meaning. Of course, she would. She already had to restrain herself to not tearing the dress of Bernadette. Or her own.

"Let's."

Together, arm in arm, they steered for the exit. Somewhere, deep in the back of Jo's mind, there was a tiny voice reminding her that she was forgetting something. Several things even. But Jo didn't care.

Pushing out exposed them to the chilly evening air. It made Jo cling more to Bernadette. Her only source of warmth. Her dress definitely didn't count as such.

Bernadette raised her arm and a moment later a cab pulled into the parking lot. How or why that was possible might bother Jo the next morning. For now, she was just happy about the coincidence.

Just as they took a seat in the cab, the driver spoke up. "You are early today. Didn't even finish my crossword puzzle."

"Just drive, Frank," Bernadette cut him off then. Then her lips were reserved for Jo. As was her body. Not that Jo minded. She relished it. So much that she didn't even care where they were going. Jo just hoped they would arrive soon.

---

Jo awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. For John that hadn't been unusual, for he had worked more seasonal jobs than not. However, it was the first time for Jo.

Her memory needed a moment to wake up too, but when it did, it was a flood. Jo remembered arriving at a house in the nearby town. Deeply entwined, Bernadette and her made for the inside and for the bedroom. There was this moment. A slight hesitation. Jo remembered thinking this was the moment they would go at each other like rabbits. But it didn't turn out this way.

They went slow. Sensual. Like unpacking a present for each other and cherishing doing so. Not that there was much to unpack. Both dresses were easily shrugged off. And then Jo learned a new way to make love. Not the frantic group sex she had with the herd. Neither the sex she had enjoyed as John. It was loving. Needing. Appreciative. And most of all, balanced. A give and take. One born of instinct and love. No words were needed.

With a smile on her face, Jo turned around. Expecting Bernadette to share the bed beside her. But the other half was empty. There was a short pang of disappointment until her nose caught the distinct smell of bacon and eggs frying. Jo was hungry and if she could score a yummy breakfast, then this evening out that had turned into a morning after would be even more perfect.

But first, Jo had to pee. Thankfully she could spy the bathroom was close by. Jo hurried to do her business. Yes, the breakfast was waiting, but it was her curiosity beckoning her to just snoop a little. Her resistance might falter if she didn't hurry up. While washing her hands, her reflection caught Jo's eyes. It looked like she had a wild night out and a tussle between the bedsheets. In other words, like a mess. Combing it with her fingers didn't improve it much.

Once done, she exited the bathroom with one more task to fulfill: hunting for her hastily discarded clothing. Another first for Jo, but nothing new for John. To her surprise, Jo didn't find her dress and panties laying on the floor. Only her heels aside a desk. On it, the rest of her garments waited. Neatly folded and ready to be worn once again. Not clean anymore - Jo could smell the echo of beers spilled - they would have to do for one more hour or two.

Panties. Dress. Both not a problem. The high heels not so much. Jo only had to slip into them to know Julia's spell had worn off. Instead, she grabbed them by the straps and followed the delicious smell barefooted.

"Morning," Jo said, a bit shy, once she found and entered the kitchen.

Bernadette was at the stove. Lightly humming a tune Jo couldn't place. She was dressed too. Some uniform with beige trousers and dark brown shirt. They appeared to be crisp and freshly ironed.

Turning around, Bernadette gave her a brilliant smile. "Mornin' to you too."

Jo felt like sighing. That smile. She could drown in it. At the same time, she wanted to touch those lips with her own again. Yet the moment didn't last. Another detail was now available to Jo's eyes. One she couldn't ignore. A six-sided golden star. Writing on it. Jo couldn't read it from this distance, but she had a pretty good guess of what it would say.

A bubbling giggle escaped her. Embarrassed, she covered up her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled embarrassed. "It's not you. I just realized that I was Sheriff's bait after all."

"And what fine bait you are," Bernadette agreed. She lifted the pan off the stove and split up scrambled eggs between two plates that already had crisp bacon on them. "I tried to resist. I always do. She thinks it pacifies me to toss a newly minted woman my way. I know what she is up to. But resisting gets harder and harder. I mean, look at you. How could I say no?"

Jo blushed at the compliment. Though she didn't know for whom it was. Her, for sporting the body, or Julia for designing it. Jo heard a hint of animosity that worried her. "You aren't on good terms with Julia?"

Bernadette gave her a sudden mischievous smile. One that hinted at hidden knowledge. "Which one?" Before Jo could answer - or even dissect the question - Bernadette grabbed the plates and motioned for a nearby dining table. "Shall we eat?"

"Yes!" For once, Jo's curiosity could wait. Digging into her bacon and eggs, it was hard for Jo to pace herself and properly chew. For one, she was hungry, and on the other hand, the food was really delicious. Not just homemade. Bernadette must have used secret ingredients.

"So, you know the original Julia then?" Jo ventured once the worst hunger pangs were satisfied.

Instead of answering, Bernadette pointed at a wall with picture frames. Having cleared her plate, Jo got up to take a look. After all, it was not snooping if prompted to do so.

A few of the pictures showed Bernadette doing her duty. Capturing her and various residents of the town. But most of them were of Julia and Bernadette. Some appeared to be older as both women looked younger. Soon, Jo spotted them as teenagers. Even as young girls posing with their parents for a family picture.

"She is your sister!" Jo concluded and earned a nod from Bernadette. Jo returned to the table and sat down. This reveal had a few implications and consequences. "I think I now know who your spy is."

"Do you?" Bernadette smiled. "Let's drive to the ranch. You can show me which one is my sister."

"Touché," Jo conceded. But now that she thought about it, the situation became even weirder. "Must be strange. To now have someone else pretend to be your sister."

"Yeah," Bernadette agreed in a long drawn-out snarl. "Tell me about it. Wouldn't be half as bad if our new Julia wasn't so stubborn about it." Seeing the confusion on Jo's face, Bernadette elaborated. "She keeps me at an arm's length. Always avoiding me instead of resolving the issue like adults. Even the bait - no offense intended - is to keep me away."

"I see. So, you aren't really angry?" Jo dug deeper. "You know, for taking your sister's place."

"It's weird, yeah," Bernadette admitted. "But I knew my Julia's kink for a long time. Teased her about it too. Entirely unrealistic, I said. And now, I eat my words. In fact, she reminds me every time we speak. No, in a way I feel grateful. She made my sister really happy. How many can say they live their dream, right? Now, if new Julia wouldn't be so strange about it."

Jo gave a laugh. "Maybe I can give her a push in the right direction. I have one more question to ask." As Bernadette nodded, Jo took a deep breath and gathered her courage. Gave a shy and hopeful smile before the words slipped out. "Was I successful? As bait?

"Well, I think last night was a good indicator."

"That was nibbling at the bait. Well, me," Jo said. "But did I hook you?"

"You want to see me again?" Bernadette honestly sounded a bit surprised.

"Yeah, I'd love to." There. Jo had said it. Now she had to hope and wait.

Both, she didn't have to do for long. "Gladly," Bernadette burst out. "I mean, I like you. There is a connection between us, right? It is just-"

"What?"

"Well, as you probably can guess, you aren't the first woman of the ranch I took home," Bernadette admitted. "I've yet to take anyone home twice. Julia's herd-"

"Don't worry about the herd," Jo insisted. Not even caring which Julia Bernadette meant. She reached out with her hands over the table and was glad when Bernadette did the same. It made Jo's heart skip a beat. "I ain't joining. Am not the type. No, don't listen to what your spy says about me. So far, they had been dead wrong about my character from day one. Yes, I became a woman. Not because of the herd. I am curious. Always have been. That's why I had to know how it felt to switch genders. Curiosity. And I ain't curious about what it feels like to be part of the herd. I am curious how it would be to walk by your side."

"I-" Bernadette gave Jo an encouraging squeeze of her hands. "I'd like to find that out too."

"So-" Jo stood up. Walking around to Bernadette, but never let go of her hands. "What would be the next step, you reckon?"

Bernadette sighed. "I am afraid my next step would be to get to work. Not very romantic."

"Yeah, I probably should get back to the ranch too." And face Julia, Splits, and the others, Jo suddenly realized. She had completely forgotten about them in the spur of the moment.

"I can give you a lift," Bernadette offered. But before Jo could thank her, Bernadette gave her a deep passionate kiss. "That's my raincheck promise. Now, grab your heels, and let's get going."

"Uhm-" Jo glanced at the strappy high heels she had discarded next to her chair. "I think I have a confession to make. You see, I am horrible in heels." Seeing Bernadette's confused look, Jo elaborated. "Julia used a spell and- It wore off."

Bernadette gave her a good-natured chuckle. "I think I have some shoes I can lend you without a heel that should fit. But here is a little hint. If you really want to date me, we will go dancing again."

"I'll train. I promise," Jo spurted out. Her excitement was evident.

"Good girl. I'll take your word for it," Bernadette purred. Her words vibrated through Jo and made her excited all over again.

The promised pair of shoes was a well-worn, but still serviceable pair of work boots. They proved to be quite comfortable. With her heels in hand, Jo waited at the door. Bernadette needed a moment longer. Strapping a few pieces of equipment to her uniform.

"What?" Bernadette asked as she noticed Jo intensely staring at her.

"Oh. It is just-" Jo bit her lip playfully. "Would it be a shock to you if I said I like a woman in uniform?"

"Oh, you." The blush on Bernadette was cute. "Don't tempt me. The thought was there to cuff you and drag you back to my bedroom. For your own good, of course."

"Of course," Jo agreed. Still, she had a job to do. One she was definitely late for.

Opening the door and stepping outside, the first thing Jo noticed was the large SUV with the sheriff's insignia painted on the side. How had she missed this beast last night? The answer was obvious. The world aside from Bernadette had ceased to exist.

"We do you want to sit?" Bernadette asked. "Shotgun or in the backseat like a naughty girl?"

"Now who is teasing who?"

On the ride back to the ranch Jo and Bernadette talked. Like a mini speed date. Last night they hadn't exactly gotten to know each other, except in a carnal way. Jo talked about growing up on a ranch with six brothers while Bernadette regaled her with anecdotes from her law enforcement life and the hijinx she pulled off with her sister when young.

Like all good things, the ride was way too short. They said goodbye with a passionate kiss. With reluctance, Jo got out and watched Bernadette drive away. She didn't stand there alone for long as footsteps neared.

"Well. Well. Well. Look what the cat dragged in." The voice belonged to Ernest. Because of course, it did. "Ready for your walk of shame?"

"Walk of shame?" Jo asked innocently enough that Ernest bought it.

"You know. The morning after a hookup. Still wearing the dress of the night before."

"I know what a walk of shame is," Jo remarked as she turned around with a wild grin. "But that's just not me. There is no shame in being driven home by your girlfriend."

Jo left a stunned Ernest behind as she walked towards the main building and her room to change. It took her mentor a few seconds to shake off that revelation. She then sprinted after Jo to catch up. "You two are dating?"

"Well- You all hyped me up as sheriff's bait. Yet no one tried to warn me she'll be Jo-bait." Jo suddenly stopped. "Come to think of it, we've yet to have a date. An official one. Still, I count us as a couple."

"I did not see that coming," Ernest admitted. "Good for you."

"Thanks." Jo honestly felt good about it. "There is just one problem."

"Which is?"

"How will the herd take the news?" Jo asked. "This is a mighty big monkey wrench for their plans."

Not that Jo really minded. She was happy and if the herd tried anything to spoil her relationship with Bernadette then they better watch out.

---

Jo grimaced as she stepped out into the morning sun. Except it chose to hide between lots of dark clouds. Autumn was in full swing and it looked like it was one of those days that brought showers that couldn't make their mind up between being snow or rain. Jo gave a little curse as she had to step into the mud that separated the main building from the barn she needed to reach.

To her surprise, Ernest overtook her. Humming a cheery melody. Yesterday she had cursed even more at the weather than Jo had.

"You are in a good mood," Jo remarked. Hurrying up to stay close to her mentor. It made her boots squelch with each step in the mud. "What brought that one on?"

"Oh, nothing." Ernest sounded like she tried to be nonchalant, but failed. "Just the day of the mixer."

"So, today is the day. Will you now tell me what the mixer actually is?" Jo had heard the term quite a few times already. Lately even more often. However, no one was willing to spill the beans about what was actually going on.

"All you need to know is that all the sheep-girls have to be in the barn number one by four in the afternoon," Ernest waved her off. Then suddenly stopped as if she remembered something important. "Oh, right. Later, some people will arrive. They are free to roam around. If they ask you questions, they probably will do that a lot, answer them honestly and as best as you can."

"This makes no sense," Jo complained. Maybe she should have asked Bernadette on their last date what was up with the mixer. Yet her mind had been on other things. For one, they had celebrated their first month together as a couple.

"It will. At four in the afternoon," Ernest promised. "Just don't be late."

The rest of the morning went the usual way, but a certain giddiness was all around Jo. The herd was hyped for the mixer too. And even more close-lipped than usual.

It was about ten when they arrived. Two small buses unloaded a handful of people. They looked like none shared a demographic with each other. From all walks of life. Not what Jo had expected. This was ironic as she hadn't expected anything, because no one had told her what to expect.

It didn't take long for a few curious people to make it out to Jo's part of the herd. She had to answer a bunch of questions over and over again. Yes, the herd was even out in the colder months. The large areas of grass were dried and grown by Julia with magic. No, the sheep-girls weren't cold, but they could ask them themselves to make sure. Shearing was about every one and half months, but more frequent in the summer and less often in winter.

By afternoon, Jo felt like she had been audited by some oversight committee. Though she doubted anything like it existed. What was surprising - and quite unusual for the herd - was the fact that each and every sheep-girl had left the grazing ground around three. Even the usual stragglers and rebels were inside without complaint. It left Jo quite at odds.

Around four, Jo joined everyone inside barn number one. It was a strange sight and intimidating. One could get used to the herd. Forget how large it was when dealing only with a fraction on a daily basis. But now the whole herd had gathered. Crowding inside and in the middle of the barn. It reminded Jo that they were outnumbered. With that she meant the people gathering at the front of the barn. Julia was there. Every pony-girl and wrangler. Even the few other helpers the ranch had. And, of course, the guests were there too. Close, but apart from the ranch workers. Quietly whispering among themselves.

A minute to four, Julia walked into the space between the herd and the rest. "Everyone here? Good. Then, let's begin. Form lines."

To Jo's utter amazement, the herd complied. Forming neat waiting lines in front of the stable hands. None acted out, rebelled, or tried to stall. It took a nudge from Ernest for Jo to realize she was supposed to grab a large basket and take a position in front of one waiting line. Not even sure what she was supposed to do.

"Commence!" Julia's shout echoed through the barn.

Aside from Jo, all ranch hands got busy. She needed a moment to look and digest what the others did. With a special tool, they took out the numbered tags of the sheep-girls and dropped them in the basket. Those sheep-girls now without tag ran back to the middle of the barn. It was madness to Jo, but then again, what wasn't on this ranch. She picked up her own tool and did her part.

She was the last to finish and dragged her basket back to Julia as the other ranch hands had done before. Jo then took her place beside Ernest and leaned over. "How do we tell them apart without tags?"

"That's the point," Ernest replied. Her voice was giddy with excitement. "We don't."

Once again, Julia spoke up. "Pony-girls, take your places."

Splits and her companions trotted forward. For once the energetic pony-girl wasn't running. They strutted towards the herd as if this was a parade. Circling the sheep-girls until they were evenly spaced out and stopped in place when they formed an oval around them. Faint green light started to appear between the pony-girls and made the oval visible to the spectators. Forming a line of light and sparkles.

"The circle is drawn," Julia intoned. Ignoring the fact that it wasn't quite a circle. Probably because the barn wasn't wide enough for a perfect one. "In five minutes, only sheep-girls will remain within the circle. Make your choice."

Jo caught an elbow in the rips. "Hey, Jo," Ernest bubbled forth. "Wanna see what step five looks like?" Not waiting for an answer, Ernest stepped through the boundary. Heading for the herd and shedding clothes as if going for skinny dipping under the moonlight.

"I knew it. Darn."

The curse came from Julia. The lair witch looked conflicted.

Ernest wasn't the only one eager to get to the herd. All the visitors undressed and gleefully ran to the sheep-girls. As did two stable hands. Bernard and Rodrigo.

"They got Rodrigo too?" Julia sounded baffled. "I thought he had resisted when he asked to be turned back into a man."

Jo looked if anyone else would head in. No one did. But she caught herself more than once subconsciously taking a step back from the glowing border and the herd.

True to her words, Julia waited for five minutes. Maybe she hoped someone would change their mind. None did. But movement came into the herd. The sheep-girls were moving in and out of the herd. Confusing the eye and making it hard to track individual sheep-girls. Even those still humans were hard to follow.

Then, at the five-minute mark, the light of the boundary grew in intensity. Jo wasn't totally blinded, but she certainly couldn't see inside the oval anymore. Just when she wondered how long it would last, the lights suddenly vanished. Jo had to blink a few times and wait for the afterimage of the light to fade away.

When she could see again, Jo noticed the pony-girls returning to Julia's side. And in the middle of the barn were just sheep-girls. No normal human. As it turned out, the visitors had come to stay. And somewhere among the herd was her mentor.

"Which one is Ernest?" she wondered out loud.

Julia snorted in amusement. "By the end of the week, I bet at least three of them will come forward to you and claim to have been Ernest. Equally as many might pretend to act like Ernest just you think you figure out who Ernest had become. Chances are none of them will be. That is what the herd is. Anonymity. And each mixer, the cards are shuffled again. A new start. That's how the herd likes it."

Jo shook her head. It sounded crazy. It might be what others wanted, but she was even more sure than before that joining the herd wasn't for her.

"I think I see two black-coated sheep-girls," a stable hand remarked.

"That means we have over two hundred sheep-girl now." Julia sounded tired. "What is the total now?"

"With the visitors and three stable hands joining the herd, we are at two hundred and one."

More sheep-girls and less stable hands. Jo started to get a feeling why Julia clung to every helper she got. It also meant more work for Jo and the other stable hands in the coming days. This gave her an idea. It was time to make some inquiries.

Jo was pulled out of her musings as she heard the tossing of additional tags into the baskets.

"One ninety-nine. Two hundred. Two hundred and one." Julia clapped imaginary dust from her hands. "You may proceed."

What came next was obvious to Jo. And not just because the herd was filing into waiting lines again. It was time to place those tags into sheep-girl ears again. Grabbing her basket, Jo decided on a line at random and got to work.

It only took thirteen sheep-girl before one spoke up. "Hey, Jo. How do you like me as a sheep-girl? It's me, Ernest, if you couldn't tell."

Jo looked nonplussed at the sheep-girl. Grabbing a tag at random she fixed it to the ear. "Nope. You are number forty-nine. Next!"

---

It was late when Jo knocked on Julia's door two weeks later.

"Come in." Julia stood at the window. Seeing Jo over her shoulder. she waved Jo closer. "Have you seen this before?"

Jo was startled. She had come here for a serious talk, but this she hadn't expected. Julia definitely was distracted. Now curious, Jo walked over. What could Julia possibly see outside in the dark?

Stepping up beside Julia, Jo didn't take long to spot what had caught Julia's attention. Something moved out there among the snow. While white against white, it reflected the moonlight more. Maybe even glowed from within. It looked like smoke that came alive to dance or a silken scarf caught by a mischievous wind.

"What is that?"

"That's Dancing Silk." Now that Julia had said it aloud, Jo thought she could make out the dark-skinned silhouette of the pony-girl. "I changed her quite a few times. But whenever she has a humanoid form, Silk has that white translucent hair. Probably some latent magical talent. Even now, I don't understand it."

For a while, both women stood still. Content to watch the pony-girl dance in the pale moonlight.

It was Julia who broke the silence. "Let me guess. You are here to ask for your penis back but to remain a woman. Because some sheep-girls asked you nicely."

"So, that's step four then?" Jo asked and gave a chuckle. "No, I am skipping that step."

Jo turned shocked to Julia as she heard the ranch owner's head hit the glass of the window. Leaning against it, Julia gave a deep sigh. "You too. Can I at least ask you to remain a ranch hand until the next mixer? Like Ernest. I know it is a year away, but-"

"Oh, ye, have a little faith," Jo intoned and gave a good-natured laugh. "I told you, I am not joining the herd. Not my style. And if I did Bernadette would come by to kick my butt. Even if it meant to kick every sheep-girls butt just to get mine. No, the herd is not for me."

"I am glad to hear that," Julia admitted. Now perking up a bit. "Not about the butt-kicking. That you remain a ranch hand. So, what brings you here?"

"A few things. I said if I stay a woman for good, I will come up with a better name than Jo. Well, Bernadette and I talked and we settled on Rosabella."

"That's an unusual name," Julia admitted. "Never heard it before."

"Yeah. It was my mother's idea. Not for me. When I grew up, Mom got my brothers and me a dog. German shepherd. For helping us on the ranch. She named her Rosabella because it means 'noble protector' or something like that. Watched that little pup grow up from so little up until a ripe age." Jo sighed. "In a way, I want to pay tribute to her. Well, I also find myself in the role of a protector these days. Kinda. Makes a lot of sense in a way."

"Then let me welcome you to the ranch, Rosabella." Julia offered her hand and the newly renamed Rosabella shook it. Glancing back outside, both noticed that Dancing Silk wasn't to be seen anymore. Julia pointed to the small couch and chair area in her office. "So, what else can I do for you? You said you have a few things to discuss."

"Actually," Rosabella started while taking her seat. "My second point is about how I can help you. I did mention that I have brothers, right?"

"Occasionally," Julia said.

"Six of them, in fact. Grew all up together. Born and raised to be ranch workers. Up to-" Rosabella stopped and took a deep breath. "Until our parents died, we were inseparable. We couldn't hold the ranch they left us. Too much debt. Since then, we have scattered in all directions."

"You want to get the band back together?" Julia guessed.

Rosabella nodded. "Up until now, they had been caught up in fixed timed contracts. Soon, my youngest brother Kenneth is freed up. Shortly followed by the rest. Julia, they are all raised right. They know their way around a ranch and behave like gentlemen."

Julia chuckled. "You don't have to sell me on this idea. I am starved for ranch workers. By now I would hire a seventy-year-old grandma if she applied."

"Well, if I throw my brothers under the bus - or in this case, herd - I need something in return," Rosabella admitted, while slightly blushing. "I need a way out of step five."

Julia sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I wish I could help you out there. But the herd- You either resist until they give up or you give in."

"The way I see it is that step five is not necessarily about joining the herd, but finding a place here." Rosabella leaned forward. "Something that tells the herd that I've made a decision for an alternative. A different transformation might do the trick. But which one? No matter how tempting Elise made it sound, being a Dryad isn't for me. Neither is being a pony-girl. Not that I have earned the trust or privilege that comes with it anyway."

"That rules out pretty much anything, "Julia pointed out.

"Unless you spend a little time and effort and create a new option," Rosabella. "Which would be the payment for recruiting my brothers."

Julia leaned back and gave an appreciative nod. "You know how to sell a deal, Rosabella. I am leaning towards saying yes, but it depends on the complexity of said option. What do you have in mind?".

"Well, Bernadette had the idea to honor my late dog with more than just being my namesake. As long as you don't go overboard."

"Truth be told, I was looking for a challenge," Julia admitted. Then, for the second time this evening, she offered her hand. "Deal."

"Deal," Rosabella agreed and shook on it.

---

Epilogue

---

"We are here!"

The shout woke Kenneth up fully. Just now, he had been about to nod off. A glance out of the window didn't reveal a change in landscape. It only had stopped moving.

"In what god-forsaken place have you brought me, John?" Kenneth muttered under his breath. He stood up from his seat and walked forward to the bus driver. "Are you sure this is it? I only see snow out there."

"Yes, it is." The bus driver tapped on a mobile phone that was fixed to the dashboard. "Easy to miss in winter. Without GPS I wouldn't know where to stop."

"Alright," Kenneth said and didn't mean it one bit. He just hoped John was punctual and picked him up soon. Grabbing his luggage, he stepped out of the bus. Only to immediately wince as icy winds crashed into his face.

As the bus pulled away, Kenneth again wondered if this had been another of John's pranks. There was nothing around for miles but snow. The road was barely visible. A snowplow had made its way along, but Kenneth could tell it had been a few hours since then.

Headlights told Kenneth someone was coming. He hoped it was John. Despite the thick winter coat, he could feel the cold creep in. To his relief, the pickup truck slowed down. Yet the sight of the driver squashed his hopes. Not John, but an attractive woman was behind the wheel.

She stopped right beside Kenneth and opened the door. "Get in. Quick. It is cold enough outside."

This was his one chance to escape assured death by freezing if John didn't show up, but Kenneth was a little too proud to admit that. Or it was stupidity. He had been accused of both in the past. "Thanks for the offer miss, but I am waiting for my-"

"John ain't coming," she interrupted him. "Now get in or I swear to god Kenneth Jeremiah Hendricks, I'll get out and kick your butt until you do. And then some more for making me get out into the cold."

"Yes, Mam," Kenneth replied. Putting his luggage in and climbing onto the front passenger seat. What else was he to do? Kenneth vowed to have a word with John. He could have told him that someone else was picking him up.

Pulling his seatbelt in place, Kenneth stole a glance at her. She was tall for a woman. Her outfit was a bit mismatched. The ugly Christmas sweater was explainable. Less so the straw hat she wore even inside the truck. The jeans with sprinkles of mud all over told him she was no stranger to work either. And just to drive home the point it was cold - despite the heater running - she had a blanket on her lap.

"I am Kenneth, by the way," he introduced himself and immediately felt the urge to slap his forehead. She just had rattled off his full name. Even his hated middle name. Time to save this and Kenneth had an idea. "But most call me Ken. Or Jay for my middle name."

"I know," she said before getting the truck into gear and pulling onto the road. "We know each other. But I guess a reintroduction is in order. I'm Rosabella."

Did they know each other? Kenneth doubted it. Maybe in their early childhood? She looked familiar. Just a bit. Something in the cut of her face. Then another tidbit wormed its way into his brain. It made him laugh out loud, but he cut himself short. "Sorry. Nothing against you. It is just that I had a dog by that name when I grew up."

Rosabella gave him a wild mischievous grin. "Me too, Ben. Me too."

Well, that was a strange coincidence. Kenneth reckoned not many named their dogs Rosabella. And why would anyone name their dog and their daughter the same? "Your parents really must have liked that name if they named you and- Wait a moment. Did you just Ben? Only my brother John calls me that. Ever since he found out about that silly old-timey tradition to shorten a name and then chose one that rhymes with it."

"Oh that," Rosabella shrugged it off. "Well, my parents didn't. I named myself after my late dog. Ben."

Of course, she had to add 'Ben' again. Even did so with a shit-eating grin that reminded Kenneth of- "J-John?"

"Took you long enough," Rosabella exclaimed. "I wondered how to make it even more obvious."

"By simply telling me?" Kenneth didn't wait for a reply. He had more pressing questions. "What? How? Why?"

"Oh. you know me. Curiosity," Rosabella admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "Does me in every time, right? And how? I know a witch."

"Witches are dangerous," Kenneth pointed out.

"Oh, she definitely is," Rosabella agreed in a heartbeat. "But she is also one of the good guys. Else I would never have invited you or our brothers over."

"So, I will meet her?" Kenneth's blood started to pump faster. What exactly had John - or now Rosabella - gotten him into.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine," Rosabella stated in the calmest voice one could manage while still having a shit-eating grin on her face. "Provided you treat her with respect and don't harm those under her protection."

"I'll take your word for it," Kenneth said, but still had his doubts in the back of his mind. This was all so strange to him. One of his first thoughts he had bubbled forth. "So, a woman, eh? Never took you for the type."

"Well, you know me," Rosabella said with another shrug. "I was doomed from the start. My curiosity paired with an opportunity I hadn't expected and just enough time to marinate in my own thoughts. I just simply couldn't resist. Glad I didn't."

"Wow." What else was there to say? Kenneth never thought one of his brothers might become his sister. But if anyone would just try it out, for the sake of curiosity, it definitely was John. It would take a time to see him now as a woman. Definitely weird. "So, one hundred percent a girl, huh?"

"Well, in the beginning, yes. But then-" Rosabella took a pause. "My girlfriend suggested something and-"

"You have a girlfriend?"

"Stop interrupting me, Ben. Yes, I am dating someone. And, you see, she suggested- This!" Rosabella swiped the straw hat off her head and tossed it into the back of the cabin. Revealing a pair of canine ears on top and no human equivalent.

Kenneth needed a moment to process what he saw. This was definitely something one didn't see every day. To his surprise, he even recognized the breed of dog these ears came from. "German shepherd?"

"You see, I borrowed more than just her name from our old Rosabella. There is also this!" Throwing off the blanket from her lap and revealed a matching tail.

Kenneth shook his head but laughed at the same time. "Only, you John. Only you. Sorry. Rosabella." Then it dawned on Kenneth. The golden opportunity to, for once. tell a joke instead of being the butt of one. "So, Miss Doggy, what do you do all day on the ranch? Play fetch?"

There was that stupid grin again. This time underlined by the happy wagging of a tail. "But, Ben. What do you think I am doing right now?"

---

Teaser Epilogue

---

A knock on the door made Julia look up from her papers. "Come in."

Rosabella opened the door. "Just wanted to let you know that my brother is here. Waiting downstairs. You might want to greet him before the herd gets their hands on him."

"I'll be down in a minute." Then she narrowed her eyes. "You didn't tell him I am a witch, right?"

"And ruin your tour? Never!" Rosabella exclaimed. "But I did tell him I know a witch. Just not that it is you."

"Alright. Alright." As Rosabella still waited in her office, Julia was forced to ask. "Anything else?"

"While at it, I fetched the mail," Rosabella said and withdrew a stack of letters from behind her back.

"Good girl." The words slipped over Julia's lips without thought and by habit. She was rewarded by a happy wagging of a tail. It was too cute and Julia had to school her face to not show how much the view amused her. "I'll be right down."

As Rosabella turned and closed the door on her way out, Julia's gaze fell on the stack of letters. Those could wait after the tour, she decided. However, one envelope stood out. It was larger than the rest. Pulling it out of the stack, a cold shudder went through Julia. It was addressed to her twice. Once as Julia Brentess and once as Cassandra Beckstein. Her old name. One she had left behind. The name of the sender was even more curious: Maritime Tours - New Orleans.

On guard, Julia slowly opened the letter. Prepared for anything. What she didn't expect was a postcard. One quite extraordinary. The picture it showed was animated in a small time loop, yet Julia could barely make out the magical aura. It spoke of a powerful witch who created this.

The picture itself was curious too. It was captured underwater in a flooded ballroom. Two dozen mermaids - creatures of legends up until now - crowded the room. But they only framed the center. For there she sat. On a pile of silvery coins as if it was a throne. Evelyn. The very witch that had saved Julia's life, but also uprooted it permanently.

They had shared a room only for a brief interview, but Julia would never forget this face. In a way, she still thought of Evelyn as her mentor. It was her who told Julia to become a lair witch. That only this way she could be safe. Clearly, Evelyn had created her own lair. Though it looked more like a kingdom. For she was the most radiant mermaid of them all and on her head rested a fine crown.

Now intrigued, Julia turned the postcard around and found flowing handwriting.

Dear Cassandra,

congratulations on becoming Julia.
I know the first identity change can be the hardest.
So many attachments to let go of.
I have followed your progress from afar.
Nicely done building a lair with over two hundred subjects.
I knew it was the right decision to let you go.
There was potential you are now starting to realize.

Of course, two hundred is just the start.
I would come by and give you a few pointers, but I am rather occupied myself.
As you can see I have founded the queendom of New Atlantis.
Recently it celebrated its thousands of citizens joining.

Keep up the good work and don't be a stranger.

Love,
Evelyn.

A mermaid kingdom - or queendom as Evelyn called it - was certainly something new. Part of her wished she could visit. Yet she feared she might end up as another new citizen. Maybe it was for the best that they both were lair witches and didn't travel much.

Julia turned the postcard around again and watched mesmerized the small loop of mermaids gently swaying back and forth in the water. Maybe she should stay in contact. Make her own postcard with the whole herd. But not before she analyzed this postcard and learned to copy the enchantment that gave it animation.

Julia's musing abruptly paused as a new thought occurred to her. Her first instinct was to brag about the size of her lair. Evelyn had too, but it was so understated. Julia would have guessed Evelyn would have included every occupant of her lair in the picture. Yet only Evelyn and two dozen other mermaids were pictured.

And a pile of large silver coins. A shudder went through Julia. Dropping the postcard in shock. She had included them all after all. Julia was sure. Every one of those coins had been a person once. Evelyn throned on a pile of sentient coins. Suddenly, Julia was very happy to be on land instead of on the ocean. This postcard reminded her. Evelyn might have been sort of a mentor to her, but she was also a cold ruthless bitch.

Still pale, Julia stood up. She wouldn't end up like Evelyn. Her lair is different and would remain so. And it would start with giving a tour.

The end.

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A small word from the author.

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Hey there.

Thanks for reading.

This story very nearly would have never existed. It certainly wasn't planned. When I wrote "Confessions Of A Fashion Witch" three years ago, I always had plans for a trilogy. Of the two people starring in it, it was supposed to be Evelyn who returned in a later story.

Why not Cassandra Beckstein? Because she was a blatant self-insert. There, I admitted it. I didn't have plans for this character to continue. But two months back, I got to wondering. In my story, my self-insert was advised to build a lair. Stay hidden and grow powerful. But the means had been left open. And I wondered what I would do if I had been in the shoes of my self-insert.

The history that Julia told in this story mirrors my own thought process. And I was left with a story premise begging to be told. But I couldn't write from my self-inserts point of view anymore. An outside perspective was needed. Cue John and his curiosity.

I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it.

Until next time,
Cassy