Patchwork

 

 

 It started long before this.
 
Mr. Torres sighed upon stumbling across the shirtless and shoeless form of the young man in the tall grass. A beefy body with a carved pumpkin upon his head. Only pants remained, torn and unfastened. Hands shot up feeling at the orange vegetable, confused. “Oh Dimas.” Mr. Torres finally said.
 
The man had warned his son many times never to go into Farmer Brown’s pumpkin patch in the fall at night. His son, Dimas, however, saw it as an unspoken dare. It was Dimas’ birthday and he was going to do whatever he wanted. Mr. Torres had spent years trying to keep his son away from the place, but his son was determined, and Mr. Torres couldn’t control every aspect of his life.
 
The farmer was typically a nice guy, but every fall got cranky when harvest season drew close. What was that if not a challenge to Dimas apparently? 
 
Mr. Torres wouldn’t think twice when his son asked for a ride to a Halloween party for him and his friends. Instead of celebrating his own birthday, Dimas wanted to hang out with friends. His dad could respect that. He’d be sitting at home, a book in hand, waiting for a text to pick his son up. The text never came.
 
A knock did. 
 
Mr. Torres stood up, removing his reading glasses as he answered the door. Xavier, one of Dimas’ friends, was there dressed as Frankenstein except his clothes were ripped from running through the woods. There was a true panic in his eyes. “I–I didn’t go in, I barely saw. I was standing nearby and—
 
Mr. Torres recognized that panic. “He didn’t.” The father stated.
 
He did.
 
Damn small towns and their biking distances.
 
Xavier was allowed to stay inside and instructed NOT to call the police. It wouldn’t help. It never did. The man got into his car and drove, heart pounding. As the scenery scrolled by him, memories came bubbling up. He had once been asked to stroll through Mr. Brown’s pumpkin patch along with a bunch of other boys. 
 
Mr. Torres still remembered the smell of dirt, the chill of the night, mist on the horizon, and the glowing orange. He wanted to believe he was crazy, that he had rationalized it but there was only ever one truth. 
 
Something had always been up with Farmer Brown’s farm.
 
—
 
When Ramón Torres was the new kid in town, years back, some male college students thought it’d be funny to invite him and other ‘outsiders’ to a party. Only to have it be a hazing event: have the younger guys attempt to run through the pumpkin patch. There were 5 deemed losers and the rest, 5 older athletic guys with more beer than common sense in their heads. Apparently, they’d lucked out as Farmer Brown hadn't hired workers to help with the harvesting season yet. Typically, they’d chase strangers away, but tonight the boys had full reign.
 
As Ramón looked at his classmates, they didn't look like typical Hollywood losers. Ramón prided himself on staying in shape, but even the nerdiest among them there had a decent helping of muscle.
 
Autumn or fall, call it whatever, was not Ramón’s time of year. Gray skies, rainy weather, dropping cold temperatures. Terrible. Nighttime just made all those things worse. Luckily, that night was fairly warm and there was no rain in sight. But even the thin mist rolling over stuff was bad atmosphere.
 
“What you guys aren’t chicken, are you?” Mitchell Defin asked them. Former quarterback. Small town golden boy. His picture was up in the high school trophy case and locker room. His brown hair and blue eyes were a deadly combination to fall to temptation, even something as dumb as pissing off a farmer, who’d never given them trouble. 
 
“I think these dudes are a little chicken.” Liam, blonde hair green eyed swimmer rested his arm on Mitchell’s shoulder smiling down at the others. “Let’s help them out and show them they ain’t doing nothing we wouldn’t do.” Pulling off his shirt, Liam's chest spilled out, as he flung it by his truck. Then he bent over and shuffled out of his pants and underwear. Big cock flopping out, smacking his thighs. Ramón just stared at the soft cock and plumps beneath it.
 
Liam was the only reason Ramón had dared to come out tonight. He saw the pretty face mentioning visiting the patch and Ramón thought ‘why the hell not?’ Ramón wanted a place to belong. Getting good cred from the college kids wouldn’t be so bad for his reputation at school.
 
“This one’s drooling, Liam.” Mitchell joked eyes on Ramón. He set down his beer so smoothly before his shirt and pants came off too. All of them got naked. Ramón didn’t know where to look, large swinging cocks in every direction, some even hardening. What were the guys in the town eating? “Now, if we're willing to do this naked, surely you guys can run through with clothes?” Mitchell moved his arms out as if he were delivering a lecture.
 
“And what are we running to?” Ramón spoke up.
 
“I’m glad you asked,” Liam slung an arm over Ramón’s neck. There was a small ‘LEGEND’ tattoo on his shoulder. He smelled like cheap cologne, axe body spray, chlorine, and bad decisions. But Ramón was not highly focused on any of that, because his left hand’s fingers were mere inches away from Liam's hardening dick. Liam pointed his other hand past the patch, towards the woods. “We put a flag on the other side, Yellow. Hard to miss.”

Ramón let his finger brush, the underside of Liam's dick.
 
Liam’s breath hitched for only a second, but he did not move. Instead, he pulled Ramón in closer in the one arm hug. The young man was talking on, giving instructions most likely, but Ramón was checked out. He was teasing the cock watching it grow. The jock’s heartbeat was powerful even though the thin skin membrane. Everyone else was so fixated on Liam’s words. Ramón went further back, daring now, for the balls. Precum dripped out as his reward, even Liam had to glance down at that surprise. Liam finished talking, releasing Ramón and spinning around as his hard cock smacked his thigh.
 
“All right boys, we’ll give you a head start before the pros show you how it’s done “Mitchell added as Liam leaned back against the truck, his hard cock out for all his friends to see. No shame at all. 
 
At that point Ramón realized he didn’t get a lick of the rule, if any. Liam caught his eyes bopping back and forth and gave a soft chuckle. He picked up his beer, tipping it to Ramón, as he made his cock bounce in tandem. Ramón gulped as he took off running in the patch when they yelled “Go!” 
 
Small towns were so fucking weird.
 
He took off, out pacing, everyone. The others were good but not used to moving their bodies. It was obvious in how quickly they lagged behind. Their muscles were for more than show, but they weren’t using them to their full advantage. 
 
The college kids cheered them on like it was a race. Ramón hopped over vines and pumpkin after pumpkin. It was an insanely large stretch of land. That’s when Ramón picked up on not every pumpkin was whole. Jack-O-Lanterns were set within the patch, candles glowing within some. How had Ramón not noticed that from the road?
 
“We’re coming little dudes!” Mitchell shouted as he and his friends took off. Ramón stopped to look back. Good distance between him and the others. The older boys hauled ass though, cutting through the patch in record time. Their longer legs and fit bodies made their strides so much more graceful. Pecs were jiggling and cocks flailing. 
 
Liam was coming right for Ramón. His cock was hard as a rocket. Ramón tried not to stare too long.
 
Norris, one of the so-called ‘losers’ tripped, “Ow,” failing to jump over a pumpkin. He wasn’t fat but certainly beefy. Maybe what the town considered big, but ultimately just a lover of trading card games. “Uh, guys I can’t get up!” His voice was panicked. To Ramón, it didn't look like Norris was trying. Then from the corner of his eyes Ramón saw something crawling through the dirt.
 
“Snake!” he yelled, thinking that it had bit Norris causing paralysis. 
 
The truth was much much worse. Moonlight revealed vines moving up from the ground and wrapping around Norris. Everything happened so fast, one minute Norris was there the next he was dragged into a pumpkin.  Norris' hand clawed at the dirt as his wrists were held down, torso, covered. “Help, Help me!” One of the jack-o-lanterns appeared behind him. Hadn't been there a minute ago. Its pointed mouth grew wider as Norris was presented to it.
 
Once Norris was a foot away, the carved face moved and sucked him. Norris screamed as the pumpkin ate him. It fucking ATE HIM. One gulp. The jack-o-lantern, surged in size, into a solid pumpkin. No openings. Large enough to contain a young man. Everyone could hear a hollow thud from inside. It sounded like Norris was alive in there.
 
The vines went for an unlit jack-O-lantern waiting off to the side, that sparked to life, its crooked smile, guided into the pumpkin as well. With no face, the larger pumpkin’s rind rippled like water as the small one was absorbed inside.
 
Norris stopped screaming. He started moaning.
 
Pumpkins around the large one doubled in size.
 
“What the fuck!” Mitchell yelled. 
 
Hell broke loose. Vines whipped into the air lunging at the boys. Some of the college kids tried to turn back. Ramón took off; he was closest to the edge. He could make it off the dirt. Fuck the flag. He went on dodging vines, tucking and weaving. Everyone shouted behind him, begging for help. He had to go forward. There was nothing he could do for them but get actual help.
 
Just as Ramón reached the end, his leg got grappled as he was pulled further back. His chest was next. A vine to push on the weight.  Ramón panicked. It was over for him. A jack-o-lantern was already waiting for him. Then Ramón stopped moving when Liam planted his fat ass and entire body weight on him. He sat on Ramón's waist. The vines couldn’t move them both. 
 
Liam pulled at the vines connected to Ramón’s chest. He tugged from two ends, his chest inadvertently pumping out. Ramón would have been turned on if he hadn't been terrified. Scratch that, he was definitely turned on. The vine snapped, Liam’s tits and upper body strength coming through. The part around Ramón immediately shriveled.  Ramón’s leg was freed as Mitchell kneeled and immediately bit through it.
 
“Get up!” Mitchell barked, as they all took off.
 
Ramón was shocked. He thought those two had personalities that surely would have abandoned him and everyone else. His feet ran as he was flanked by his saviors. Vines tore after them. They were so close. Ramón could even see the yellow of the flag waving to them slightly behind a tree. He hoped that wasn’t his last thought.
 
A vine wrapped around Mithcell’s mouth. Then others came for his arms.
 
“Keep going! And don’t stop.” Liam shoved Ramón forward, turning back to go for his friend. Ramón escaped the patch. The vines didn’t try to follow him off the dirt. But he didn’t keep running; he stopped at the flag. He froze, turning back. A jack-o-lantern was staring at him, watching. Right on the edge of the patch. Liam and Mitchell were on the ground muffled screaming and fighting to no avail, just behind it. The pumpkin turned from Ramón as the vines brought the young men.  Mitchell was the first to go and expand the gourd. Liam’s scared face was hidden from view. But when the pumpkin grew again. Ramón knew Liam was gone, swallowed into plant flesh.
 
Bravery was never a virtue Ramón had been tested on, but he ran back up to the edge. The pumpkin was so big it hung well over the patch. None of the vines made a move as Ramón slammed up against the giant gourd. He pressed an ear to it, pounding. He could hear Mitchell and Liam moaning inside. As something sloshed about with them. A pumpkin churning from within. Slowly, vines pulled a jack-o-lantern inside almost tauntingly. Ramón saw the carving. The EXACT same face that had stared at him from the edge now on a different pumpkin. It was allowed access through direct contact, sinking into the rind. Ramón pulled away as he heard the young men’s voices unify, moaning together. 
 
Ramón stepped back a few feet, then spotted a light off in the distance. A figure was standing on Farmer Brown’s porch silhouetted by the yellow light in the doorway. Farmer Brown had watched the whole thing happen. Ramón took off into the woods, but he didn't go far. He had to know what Farmer Brown was going to do. The pumpkins containing young men got even larger over the course of the night. They began to glow in perfect harmony from within, mocking a heartbeat.
 
Sleep snuck up on Ramón and by the time he woke up. It was mid-morning and the day was still. He approached the patch. No moving vines. No jack-o-lanterns. No young men. The large pumpkins were gone, but the patch had turned into a larger version of itself. 
 
Farmer Brown, however, was up and on the other side of his farm, walking around in the tall grass. He’d bend over talking, a man would rise, a jack-o-lantern on their head. They followed him around. Some were naked, others had on torn clothes. It took Ramón a moment to recognize them from last night. Every single man was someone who fell to a pumpkin except older, broader, and taller.  Then there was a mountain of a man that rose beyond the others, hair on his heavy pecs as he scratched at them while Farmer Brown talked. By midday they were all in work clothes, working on the farm. Pumpkins still on their heads.
 
The farm workers had arrived.
 
Ramón took off, straight for the sheriff’s office. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t say a pumpkin patch ate his classmates or the college kids. A lie about the boys being attacked by ‘something’ out on the farm was good enough. He was escorted back in a police car. They rode past men looking up from their work as they approached Farmer Brown’s house. Ramón pressed his face to the window as neither of the officers noticed pumpkins dropping off the workers' heads into the fields. Two young deputies led Ramón up to the door. A black man guarding his right and a tan skinned Egyptian man on his left. 
 
Farmer Brown came out to meet them with two slices of pie in his hands and a warm smile on his face. 
 
“Sir, we’re here about an incident we believe may have happened on your farm last night.” The black deputy talked first, clutching his belt.
 
“Oh, don’t be so formal Tony. I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I’ll tell you and Umar everything you want to know.”  He ushered them to sit on the porch as he placed the pie in their laps. Farmer Brown turned to Ramón, “Sorry, I only brought you to help yourself inside, my guy can cut you another slice. Ramón didn’t feel any fear or a sense of a threat. Just a genuine inquiry. He watched as Tony and Umar took their first bits of pie. Their faces squinted for a minute before relaxing.
 
“Mmmm, that’s good!” Umar laughed.
 
Farmer Brown turned back to Ramón once more, “Go on, the house isn’t gonna bite cha’.”
 
Ramón took a deep breath, opening the screen door and walking inside. The interior was better but together than the outside. What looked like a shabby shack was a two floor, homely house of decadence. There was no overwhelming opulence abound, just the comfort of a lived-in space. Ramón was led into the kitchen by the smell of rising pastries. Squatted by the oven, a hulking man pulled out a pie, with oven mitts. Strangely domestic for the rugged jaw that greeted Ramón. Windswept light brown hair with blonde highlights. Stubble all over the lower half of the face. The man was in his late 20’s dressed in overalls, no shirt underneath, pecs spilling out the sides. His ass, a basketball stuffed in the back, stretching on the denim.
 
As for his eyes, those got Ramón. Sea-green irises that lured him in. 
 
“Here for pie?”  The man asked, a dulcet and steamy voice leaving his lips. He stood up to his full height resting a pie next to a cut one. A towering 6’6. A sentry guard come to life. Ramón’s mind immediately flashed back to the huge guy in the grass. The same guy now clothed. “I’ll cut you a slice.” Thick fingers gently cut from the first pie, a HUGE slice, presenting it to Ramón.
 
Every cell in Ramón’s body was yelling not to take the pie and yet he could not fight it. He accepted it graciously and with one swipe of his fork bit in. The taste was…
 
To say ‘repugnant’ or ‘repulsive’ would have been dishonest. Too negative of connotations to apply. In some ways, there was nothing wrong with the taste if it had been expected. Therefore, the only neutral answer was ‘off-putting’.
 
The pie tasted like fresh jock jizz. Young, potent, and plentiful. It saturated Ramón’s tongue. Right under the familiar creamy texture was the breakdown. Musk, sweat, gym socks. But not just the bad. Soap, cologne, and deodorant came right after it. Ramón had images of bedrooms flash in his mind. It was like devouring life. Then the bitter taste faded, giving way to sugar with the next bite. Nothing but a pie again.
 
Tasted amazing.
 
Ramón ate it, no crumbs left behind. The worker watched, hands and ass resting on the sink’s edge. He tilted his head curiously. Ramón wiped his mouth, his stomach felt impossibly full, but in a good way, a hearty meal warming him from within.
 
“That didn’t work, did it?” The worker asked with a slick smile on his face.
 
“If you mean I was supposed to forget or something, no it didn't work.” Ramón shrugged, handing the plate back. 
 
The man shrugged, “Ah, can’t blame a guy for trying.” He took the plate and began to wash it. Ramón got up walking behind him, until his fingers were tracing a tattoo on the man’s shoulder. ‘LEGEND’. The worker stopped, as his eyes fell on Ramón.

“Liam?” Ramón whispered.
 
The man chuckled, “Not quite.” He continued washing, arms flexing. “Call me Mithiam. Pronounce it like Myth-I-AM. Appropriate, right?” He had Liam's smile; the same one the young man had shown last night. 
 
Plate clean, Mithiam shook water off his hand, stepping over to a hand towel. He moved like Mitchell. A person who knew he was on top whereas Liam had a carefree swagger. Mithiam’s stride could not be mistaken for anything other than power. However, his body was not that of a young man, it was bombastic, burly, and blessed with muscle. A level of masculinity neither college boy had achieved on their own. He was an amalgamation and then some.
 
Ramón gut gurgled. He wanted to run.
 
Mithiam turned back to him. “You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” The man held up his hands. They could crush Ramón’s head in an instant. “The pie is only to make you more open to suggestions. It didn’t work, that's that. Though, I was mostly curious about you last night,” He crossed his thick forearms, giving himself a once-over, turning his ass forward a bit. “Can't say I hate the way it ended though.” An orange glow lit from behind his eyes.
 
“You’re…” Ramón raised a finger. “That jack-o-lantern that was staring at me last night.”
 
“Correction, I was that jack-o-lantern. Now I’m Liam, Mitchell, and a whole lot more. All three of us are in here.”
 
“Liam and Mitchell are in there?” Ramón steeled his voice, “Then let them out!”
 
Mithiam laughed, covering his chest. Not belittling or condescending a genuine show of joy. “Sorry, no can do. There’s no reversal process.” The glow in his eyes intensified. “And they may be in here, but I’m at the wheel unifying it all.” The glow died as his sea-green eyes returned. “And I must admit seeing how 2/3rds of me tried so hard to save you. I’m glad you didn’t get got.” His eyes squinted on Ramón as he rolled his tongue. “I think I like you just the way you are.” 
 
Ramón had a flush come upon him. He saw Liam in that smile and it was killer. A groan erupted from Ramón’s stomach as he gripped the counter with his right-hand hunching over. “What else was in that pie?” he moaned. He didn’t know if it was his end.
 
Mithiam winced, “You probably shouldn't have eaten that pie so fast.”
 
Then, like magic his stomach pulled in, going flat. His chest exploded out, fuller, shoulders wider. Ramón’s pants crawled up his legs, recalled by the expansion of his ass and lower muscles pulling on them. He lifted his shirt as abs popped into existence. His feet were at the tip of his shoes, begging to snap out. Then his cock swelled and a foreign confidence took root in him. Ramón couldn’t hold it all in.
 
The button on Ramón’s jeans snapped right off as his cock spilled out. His balls were boiling and getting heavier by the second. “OH FUCK!!!!!”. The seat of his pants tore, his feet broke seams, and his shirt was riddled with holes. His cum unloaded all over Farmer Brown’s floor. He was left shaking, a fucking puddle in front of him as opposed to his regular splotches. Miriam got down, sticking his fingers into it, then taking a lick. “Mmmm, not bad?”
 
“Sorry?”
 
“Don’t be, you taste me, I taste you?”
 
“Huh?”
 
“Oh.” Mithiam blinked, “You hadn’t put that together? The pie. In the pumpkin Liam and Mitchell were soaking in its juices, sweating, blowing their loads, even as they swirled together and after. You had a pretty big, nasty helping, but I didn’t think you’d mind it.” The man winked.
 
“Wait, that flavor???”
 
“Liam’s nut, Mitchell’s nut. Sorry should I have asked if you were allergic?” He joked about getting back on his feet. 
 
The flashes in his head made so much more sense now. He had truly ingested bits of their lives. And they made a mark on him. 
 
“Want a special treat to wash it down?” Mithiam asked, before sticking his head out to see if anyone was listening. He started unfastening his overalls and let them drop to the floor. He didn’t have anything underneath.  
 
Ramón’s mouth went agape. The man didn’t just have a dick. It was a baby’s arm with nectaries pretending to be a dick and balls. The size was outrageous, Liam’s size plus Mitchell’s, it was inevitable it'd be homegrown and yet overgrown.
 
“Have a taste if you like?” He wagged it at Ramón. No force or domination was needed, the young man dropped to his knees. Mouth barely able to get in the tip. 
 
“Had this stocked up all morning. I was hoping you’d come back." Mithiam put his head back as he unloaded down Ramón's throat. The cum was warm and seasonal. The best pumpkin spice latte Ramón ever had. That made the young man chuckle. Pie that tasted like young men and a young man that tasted like pumpkin. When it was over there was no special effect, just a belly full of pumpkin-flavored jizz. 
 
Ramón panted "What was that?”
 
“That was just pure nut. Not my problem if it tastes good.” Mithiam hoisted Ramón up with one arm, then put his overalls back up.” He patted Ramón on the back, “We should go join the others.”
 
“Buuurrrrppp!” An expulsion of pumpkin-cinnamony goodness came out of Ramón’s mouth. 
 
Farmer Brown nor the deputies were waiting for them on the porch; They had to walk up into the pumpkin patch where before they even approached, they could see Farmer Brown constructing a story of what he thought happened the night prior. The deputies nodded their heads along, finishing their pie, as Ramón and Mithiam approached and blended seamlessly behind them.
 
Ramón noticed the deputies’ uniforms were tighter around their bodies. Their arms were still pulsing as their biceps filled their sleeves. Their forearms thickened, as their shoulders broadened their shirts. But their chests were the real eye candy as the duo’s pecs made their badges stick out in their own realm. Their tits were bodacious and attention seeking. When their glutes popped, the legs weren’t far behind.  As for their faces, the youthful deputies' soft features hardened, matured ever so slightly. Brows thicker, jaws sharper, the ghost of facial hair darkened their cheeks.
 
Mithiam nudged Ramón with his elbow, a proud smile on his face, pointing at the cops then himself. They were eating from his pumpkin pie. Ignoring the grin, Ramón looked out at the other workers and indeed saw faces he recognized from last night. Older. Matured. Men who wouldn’t go running into a pumpkin patch at night. 
 
The deputies accepted Farmer’s Brown's story of being an innocent bystander thinking the young people were vandalizing his cops. The farmer was at least kind enough to not completely villainize them saying, he too thought someone chased the boys away. That was all it took for the deputies to accept it; the pie clearly had a stronger hold on them than Ramón. They had not seen the frightening events of the previous night. Their minds probably wanted to accept an easy tale.
 
Missing posters went up for the boys that faded into nothing within a few months. Even their parents weren’t all that concerned. Ramón didn’t get it until he learned Farmer Brown had been giving away pies to the community for years. 
 
No wonder even the other ‘losers’ that night had pretty nice bodies. The whole town had been under the farmer’s thumb and didn’t know it. How many years had they been eating their own young men’s emissions? Ramón could have talked to his parents about it since they also hadn't eaten any pie, but he didn’t want to put them in danger. He took it upon himself to watch the place.
 
One thing was true. The workers did prevent other stupid kids from taking a one-way trip into the patch. Ramón sat in his car watching, the worker’s eyes glow through the night as they wandered the patch tending to the field.
 
When harvest season properly started more workers from out of town came to assist on the Famer’s patch. 
 
Their eyes glowed at night as well. 
 
Ramón had enough. He had to confront Farmer Brown and get answers. His drive was steady and his march up to the front door was unwavering as workers looked at him confused. They stopped, watching him. He ignored them. Walking up to the door he prepared his fist to knock.
 
“He’s not there.” Mithiam was sitting in a rocking chair, scratching at trimmed beard, beer in hand.
 
“Where is he then?” Ramón stopped; he had blocked everyone out of his mind except his goal.
 
“The fair.” Mithiam replied.
 
“The fair?”
 
“Yea, the fair. You know, hot dog eating contests, funnel cakes, and the biggest pumpkin competitions.” The man raised an eyebrow.
 
Ramón could hear the other workers laughing at him as they went back to work. The young man wanted to crawl into a hole. All of his bravado faded. He was now alone on the farm, with no other humans around. Just the pumpkin patch men. 
 
“You don’t need to be so scared.” Mithiam continued rocking, nursing his beer. “None of us are going to toss you into the patch.”
 
“Why should I believe you?”
 
The man shrugged his heavy shoulders making a blasé face, “What would you even be able to do if I was lying?” He pointed out to the field, "Think you can outrun any of them? Overpower them?”
 
Tension left Ramón’s body. If it was over, this was it. There was not a thing he could do. The young man sat on the porch's siding. “So, what are you guys going to do with me?”
 
Mithiam gave a confused look. “Uh, nothing? We kind of got our hands full here, Pumpkins are the main crop, but there’s other shit growing in the back too.”
 
“Are those vegetables also eating people?”
 
“Ugh,” Mithiam sighed, setting down his beer as he folded his hands together. “Alright, look it’s like this: Once upon a time a young farmer wanted the small-town kids to stop destroying his crops for fun. Some brats went missing, hunks appeared, it's been that way ever since. Works well. Questions?”
 
“Why don’t you guys mind if I know?”
 
Mithiam rolled his eyes, “What are you going to do? Tell me, what’s your big plan to stop it? Better yet. tell me how you’ll prevent others from going into the pumpkin patch better than we do?”
 
Ramón hushed up, he hadn’t expected that either. “We—well to be fair…” he stammered trying to come up with something, “No one was here the night we came.”
 
“Yeah, the workers got their own farms too in other towns and states. Some are just kind enough to come back and help with harvesting. The pumpkins here really look forward to the competitions, being baked into pies, muffins, used for coffee ingredients, and the works.” He waved his hand about.”
 
“Some?” Ramón’s voice raised, “You mean there’s even more for you?”
 
“Oh yeah,” Mithiam said as though it were obvious. “Not everyone can get time away to come back, but it’s like seeing family.”
 
“This is not happening.” Ramón put his hands through his hair.
 
“What? Can we not want to see people too?” Mithiam retorted, “You come here all the time to see Liam, how is that more valid? I don’t mind.”
 
“You’re not Liam, though,” Ramón said, voice low. “You’re a pumpkin that ate him and his best friend and possessed their body.” The words sounded like a plea to convenience himself rather than a definitive statement.
 
“Is that how you see me?” Mithiam said curiously. “I thought I had described what happened perfectly. But from your perspective, I guess a human wouldn’t see a difference.” He leaned forward, “That’s interesting, what would be the difference if all our brains merged with me in control, or if I took control of a merged body.” He pondered clicking his tongue, “Maybe if the latter was true, and I’m not saying it’s not, I’d feel more like a pumpkin piloting a man,” Mithiam clenched and unclenched his fist, “I feel all man to me.”
 
“I’m not here to debate pumpkin philosophy.” Ramón sighed.
 
“Then, why are you here?” Mithiam asked, “Rather why are you still here? Farmer Brown’s not here. The workers aren’t going to bother you. You’re free to leave.”
 
Ramón stood up, fists clenched, standing over Mithiam. “If you really are them. I’m sorry, I couldn’t save either of you, even after you both helped me.”
 
Mithiam reached for Ramón's hands, unfolding them and holding them. “It wouldn't have mattered.” He said, thumbs running over Ramón’s knuckles. He pursed his face, "If I was to speak for my other selves individually, I’m glad you didn't get taken. Mitchell was glad you listened. Liam thought you were really brave.”
 
“Me, brave? All I did was run away.”
 
“Exactly, you kept moving, some of the others got so scared they froze.” Mithiam added.
 
So that was it. No conspiracy to take over the town or rule the world. Just a pumpkin patch that needed work. One could say, the patch itself worked hard both as humans and pumpkins still on the field.
 
If only the old story ended there.
 
Ramón couldn’t exactly keep away from Mithiam. He didn’t want to either. The young man learned more about him and the jack-o-lantern men. They had a culture. A society. Or subsociety was more apt in their case. They were a special division of the field pumpkins. Pumpkins who became men. 
 
As such there were ways they couldn’t relate to their friends on the field anymore. Becoming a sexual being was one. They had pecs, asses, and dicks. Bodies to appreciate. The pumpkins on the field looked forward to a jerkoff session across the soil to feed the roots, but they couldn’t understand what it felt like to grab a dick. They understood their friends’ sperm was rich in nutrients, but not that how good it felt to release it.
 
Walking in on a glowing eyed jack-o-lantern man orgy, was not the way Ramón wanted to learn that fact. Not that it wasn't hot. Superb naked men everywhere, but they had been fucking away in the dark. Those eyes peered into his soul when he stepped in. They all slept in the barn during harvesting season and the place was oversaturated with a pumpkin spice sent. The fucking continued as Ramón walked with lights on. He understood. They had new hormones and worse enhanced hormones. None of their memories could quite live up to the desires and demands of their current physique. 
 
Mithiam was tapping some dude's ass. Had the other man bent over a hay barrel, hand clutching the short hair to keep his head back. “Hey Ramón!” Mithiam smiled, but his hips didn’t stop pummeling. “If you wanted to see me in action all you had to do was ask.” He winked.
 
“I knew you guys jacked off. But I thought you guys didn’t care for sex. When you’re on the field you give off asexual guard vibes,” Ramón said.
 
“That’s business, this is pleasure.” Mithiam corrected. “Watch this, bro.” He picked his partner up, holding the other guy’s arms, preventing him from getting himself off. Then Mithiam’s hips drove into the man, a piledriving fuck. His partner's cock hardened before blasting seed across the barn, not just cum; actual seeds came out his balls and landed before Ramón’s feet.
 
“Don’t worry, we can plant those little guys later,” Mithiam said. “About to go round four with this guy. Want to eat my ass while I do it?” 
 
Pumpkin cake had never tasted so good. When Ramón wandered closer to the nuts slapping his face, they had the perfect salty flavor. A pumpkin nut bread experience so to speak.
 
Harvest season came to an end, and it was time for Mithiam and the other new workers to go. Farmer Brown believed in his workers having their own spaces. Also, no competition. He wanted them far away with no one else knowing where they lived. In the farmer’s eyes, their patches could thrive that way. 
 
So, with a pack of seeds and a goodbye kiss, warm to the last touch, Mithiam was gone.
 
Ramón had faith in him. They weren’t always shooting out actual seeds when they fucked. Some Jack-o-lantern men had children of their own. The seed thing was more of the men fertilizing each other. 
 
Over the years though, Mithiam would come back during harvest season. Ramón would receive a call and be there to get him. 
 
The first time they had full on sex Ramón had been such a horndog. Mithiam was wearing a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled back, that was barely buttoned at all. The man had his hairy tits showing, a hint of nipple begging for a sucking. He sat in the passenger seat facing Ramón. Legs so goddamn far apart his bulge was accentuated in his dark blue jeans. Not hard, just heavy. Balls ready to pump out the next latte. Ramón's name was certainly going to be the one called out for the order. Then there were his wide hiking boots that clacked wherever he walked. He had shaved his beard to look clean and fresh, but the stubble was already growing back. 
 
“What?” he guffawed, smiling at Ramón.
 
“Nothing,” Ramón responded. His dick annoyed.
 
“Dude, can't be nothing.” Mithiam stated, “You’re looking at me like you want to eat me up, I used to be a pumpkin you know.” He ran a hand up and down Ramón’s leg.
 
“Is that your qualification?” Ramón joked back.
 
“Also, a guy you were clearly smitten with.” Mithiam added.
 
“Touché.” Ramón gave a knowing smirk back. The drive continued, Ramón’s cock protesting.
 
The plan had been to take him straight to Farmer Brown’s place, but they ended up pulled off on the side of the road. Mithiam sat in the back seat, jeans around his ankles, shirt opened. His posture was that of a king reclining, arms stretched on the back, legs manspread. But his face was full of wonder watching as Ramón lowered himself. Ramón went slow as the cock nudged its way inside, he wasn’t supernaturally gifted like the workers. He kept going until his thighs rested comfortably on Mithiam’s. 9 fat inches gone from sight. Ramón took it all.
 
“You’re amazing, man.” Mithiam rolled his head, with a dopey grin, euphoric.
 
“Eh…” Ramón caught his breath, and over his abs where he could feel the cock pulsing underneath. “You could be better,” He joked before leaning forward to nip at Mithiam’s nipple. 
 
Mithiam pushed his head back, as his hips thrusted up automatically, half-moaning, half laughing. “No fair.”
 
Ramón had to collect himself as Mithiam’s legs game back down. “No fair? My vision went black for like an entire second.” He looked down, ensuring he was in one piece. “This is a lot of dick to take.”
 
“Can’t help it, I was born this way, dude.” He laughed.
 
“Fine, but I need to take the lead. You’re going to make me pass out.” Ramón said.
 
Mithiam held his hands up, showing he wasn’t doing anything. 
 
Ramón bounced on Mithiam’s dick slowly, his hole getting stretched. The massive schlong forced its way up into his bowels. A barrier was broken and soon Ramón was riding it like a pogo-stick. His own brown dick slapped heavily on Mithiam’s abs. 
 
Mithiam wanted to grab it, but he was being good. Didn’t mean he couldn’t talk though.”
 
“Be careful Ramón, I might have to start thinking you like taking dick. My fat cock all up inside you.” His hips started to grind, meeting Ramón’s bounce. “Imagine how it’ll feel, when I seed your ass.” He teased.
 
“I want you to cum inside me so bad, Mithiam.” Ramón could smell the pumpkin in the car, Mithiam was sweating profusely. He licked his lips imagining the taste on his tongue. His hands rested on Mithiam's steady shoulders, before traveling down, tracing the biceps and forearms sliding over the palms, until they were holding hands. Ramón pushed them up by Mithiam’s head. Mithiam was ‘pinned’. 
 
“Take my fat cock.” Mithiam cooed. He didn’t try to free himself. His hips did the talking, meeting Ramón faster. “Take ALL. THIS. COCK.” His dick swelled even more, rearranging Ramón’s guts. 
 
Ramón went even faster, the car shaking with their pleasure. He gripped Mithiam’s hands and Mithiam gripped back. His rammed intestines be damned; Ramón was going to milk those balls dry.
 
“Ramón,” Mithiam’s body shook with pleasure, enjoying tasting the name leaving his lips. The young man’s ass had a tight unrelenting grip that made the stud howl. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna—OH SHIT—go faster! Just like that. I can’t hold it back, FUCK. DAMINT. FUCK!!!”
 
The hunk’s body convulsed as his cock expelled cum. He flooded Ramón’s guts, never-ending shot after shot. No doubt gallons of Mitchell and Liam DNA with a hint of pumpkin flavor. Ramón stopped riding as Mithiam’s hips did the rest of the work, submitting all of his seed.
 
Their hands still holding, Ruben fell onto Mithiam. Chest to chest. Mithiam had even noticed his sticky glaze, courtesy of Ramón’s dick until, their bodies smeared it. 
 
“You came so much," Ramón said dreamily, head resting on Mithiam’s shoulder. 
 
“Your ass didn't really give me a choice.” He praised the young man. Ramón released one of his hands, so that Mithiam could lick Ramón’s DNA off their bodies, dipping his fingers in like syrup.
 
The two got back on the road, absolutely reeking of fresh warm pumpkin. They got a lot of smirks and chuckles when Ramón dropped him off.
 
Workers got used to seeing them together. Farmer Brown ignored them as a couple. Unless they were helping out in the field, he wasn’t interested. 
 
Years went by, Mithiam coming home to the small town. Eventually, he stopped staying at the barn and made Ramón’s new apartment, then just regular apartment, his second home. 
 
Farmer Brown was not having it. He wanted all visiting workers in the barn so they could propagate and produce seeds in their balls. Ramón thought a solution would be to move to where Mithiam lived, but Framer Brown disagreed. Mithiam couldn’t even get a voice in the conversation. Not an exaggeration. One of the stipulations of whatever magic Farmer Brown enacted on his workers was not allowing them to tell other townies where they lived outside the town.
 
“Babe, I literally can’t tell you. I’m forbidden.” Mithiam would say as they lay together in bed. “But I wish you could see it. The farm’s getting bigger every year. Wish you were there.”
 
While every other worker from that original night weaned off over the years. Mithiam kept coming around as an excuse to see Ramón.
 
Ramón chuckled in the sheets, “I know this ass is getting bigger every year. What are you feeding it?” An attempt at pushing down the pain of separation.
 
“Squats, man. Squats,” Mithiam answered proudly.
 
Farmer Brown could only take so much dissension for so long. It was clear, Mithiam could give the workers other ideas and the handsome man arriving early in July, before the fall even kicked off, was a bridge too far. He ordered Mithiam that after the upcoming fall was over to never return to town and focus on his own farm. 
 
When Ramón fucked Mithiam’s ass that night. He didn’t go easy. His anger, frustration, love, and passion were easy to take out on the glutes of steel. Mithiam took it all loving every second, especially when his ass was rewarded with his favorite drink. Ramón stayed buried in there, going again, sniffing that pumpkin sent on the back of Mithiam's neck. Another cum shot, again and again. All god damn morning.
 
By the end of August, was when the bump first started showing. Mithiam's abs, all stretched out by a foreign curvature. Month two, the abs were gone, untied in one uniform roundness. But Ramón couldn’t get his supernatural lover to be worried for shit. Jack-O-Lantern workers had sex with each other and women. But Mithiam was working another angle, what would happen if he let a human male attempt to fertilize him? 
 
They got their answer on Halloween night when Ramón watched his lover push a huge pumpkin out his ass in their living room. 
 
Mithiam sat laid out on the couch exhausted, chest heaving, “Fuck, so that’s what happens when you let a dude’s nut take root inside you.” His body had returned to normal muscles and all. “Feels good to have it out of me, what are we eating for dinner?” He sat up, unbothered.
 
“Please don’t act like you didn't birth a pumpkin.” Ramón sighed, staring down at the gourd on his floor.
 
“I am part pumpkin, so it is not that weird when you think about it.” He offered.
 
The two laughed at the ridiculous of the situation.
 
“Okay, I’ll order us some—-
 
The pumpkin moved. Full on shook. Ramón backed up as Mithiam leaned in. Soft thuds, then a CRACK. The gourd broke like an eggshell and the unmistakable sounds of a baby’s laughter came out. 

“No way.” Ramón moved back in and pulled the baby out of the pumpkin. More developed than a typical newborn. He had Ramón’s body features, brown eyes, dark hair, and the smell of pumpkin. Ramón held him looking at Mithiam. “What do we do?’
 
Mitiham winced, scratching his neck. For once, only pretending to be unbothered. “Didn’t know if this was going to work, but it’s the best I could think of.”
 
That was it. 
 
Mithiam parting gift. A baby and then goodbye. Technically, the harvest was a few weeks after, but Mithiam was a diligent little worker, even staying on the farm late. Though when he was home, he was shockingly good with the baby like he could read the little one’s mind. When he was hungry, sleepy, gassy, etc. Mithiam was on top of it.  Ramón was shocked his partner didn’t have telepathic powers stocked in that supernatural body. Meanwhile, Ramón had to deal with reality, stuff like the car seats and baby food. 
 
They never told Farmer Brown.
 
Ramón would drive to pick Mithiam up, baby laughing in the back, as his other dad was sitting in the patch carving pumpkin. It was fully a jack-o-lantern by the time they parked. Spotting them, Mithiam lifted it up to show Ramón. Ramón recognized the face. The one that had stared him down in the patch. Mithiam's. The internal candle lit up as Mithiam’s eyes glowed. Baby Dimas clapped in the back.
 
“So, your dad can do that, but I’m ridiculous when I ask if he can read minds?” Ramón chuckled looking at his son in the rear-view mirror.

The air went still as the jack-o-lantern vanished, fading into nothing. Mithiam joined Ramón in the car, silent, thinking. Not something he was typically prone to do. 
 
“What was that about? Did you tell the patch you gave birth to a pumpkin and a human?” Ramón teased, seeing his boyfriend was stressed.
 
“Something like that.” Mithiam gave a tight smile.
 
A few weeks later, Farmer Brown's work was done. Mithiam was sent away. He was gone. 
 
He never came back.
 
—
 
Mr. Torres had the memories weighing on his mind as he stepped out of his car that night. History repeated itself. He stopped on the road, as there was no need to get closer. A massive glowing pumpkin was the center piece. The orange glow had the patch dimly lit. Multiple voices. Mr. Torres could hear whoever was inside mixing together.
 
“Shit!” He slammed his car door, kicking his tire. “Why wasn’t his partner here to talk to the pumpkins. Then in the morning Farmer Brown was going to wake up and just collect him to be a worker. Unless…
 
Unless Mr. Torres got their first. 
 
He got back in the car gripping the well and convinced himself not to drive into the patch not knowing what would happen. There was a plan, he had to stick to it. 
 
He stayed up all night, and while the glow died down, the pumpkin didn’t disappear until early morning. It faded like a mirage. Mr. Torres waited until sunrise at dawn. Orange broke across the sky. He started wandering into the tall grass.
 
Mr. Torres gave a sigh of relief upon stumbling across the shirtless and shoeless form of the Dimas in the tall grass. Only pants remained, torn and unfastened.  It had to be him, the now shorts were a pair Mr. Torres had bought him. 
 
Just as it had happened in the past. Dimas now had a beefy body with a carved pumpkin upon his head. Mr. Torres looked around not a single other person in the tall grass. Though Xavier had definitely said their friends had walked in too.
 
Hands shot up feeling at the orange vegetable, confused. 
 
“Dimas, are you okay?” Mr. Torres finally said.
 
A deep voice answered, “Dad, what’s on my head?” His finger moved around, eyes staring out the pumpkins cut triangles. “Why do I sound like this?” his hands were on his neck, Mr. Torres squatted down, helping Dimas stand up. Dimas buttoned his shorts
 
“Woad dad, did you shrink? Why is the ground so far away?” Dimas had twenty questions. He was indeed taller than his own father. Then he grabbed at the gourd again,” My head feels weird.”
 
“Let’s get this off of you,”
 
“Don’t,” Dimas flinched away,” It has to come off on its own…why do I know that?” 
 
“Shhh…keep your voice down, Farmer Brown is still sleeping.” Mr. Torres chided.
 
Dimas grabbed at his father’s arm, “Dad, last night something happened. We came here to steal pumpkins. I’m sorry. And—
 
“It’s fine we can talk about that later.”
 
“No, you don’t get it. The pumpkin sucked me in.” Dimas’ voice was shaking. Mr. Torres nodded rubbing his son’s shoulder, looking back at the house. He didn’t have time to explain that he had been through it before. “I could hear Gio and Elijah screaming. Then, they were inside with me.”
 
“And then you all got mixed together with another voice. It’s fine, you’re fine.” Mr. Torres wasn’t sure if he believed his son was ‘fine’, but he didn't want to be challenged otherwise. He tried to tug on his son’s arm to lead him away.
 
“Mixed toge–what? No, dad. I heard a voice. It was my voice and it told me…to absorb my friends.”
 
Mr. Torres spun on his feet. That was new. “What?”
 
“There was like water and we were trying not to drown. It wasn’t even that thigh, but it kept making us crash against each other. I didn’t want to crash anymore, so I listened to the voice. Except, I didn’t understand. Gio got sucked into me, dad. Right out of his costume. I tried to pull away, but he kept sinking until he was gone. That’s when I felt him flowing into me, he was becoming my muscles and making me grow. My costume started to rip, but I couldn’t stop it” He pulled on his shorts.
 
“Did the same thing happen to Elijah?”  Mr. Torres asked.
 
“Yeah. Once I was bigger my body kept knocking him over. I thought it’d be better if I didn’t cause him to drown. I tried to hold him and steady us, but he got sucked into me, until his black skin was just mine and I couldn't see him. That’s when the rest of my costume went. I couldn’t stop growing. They went into my pecs, my abs, and my as...” 
 
Mr. Torres scrunched his eyebrows, “That’s it? No jack-o-lanterns with you?”
 
“Jack-o-lantern?” Dimas paused, “Yeah, there was one. When I said I heard my voice. That’s where it came from.”
 
“Said its name was…it said our name was…” Dimas’ stance shifted. His back became straight as his shoulders squared up. He released his grip on his father’s arms. No longer scared. In control.
 
“Mithiam.”

Mr. Torres' mouth dropped.
 
“Hey babe, good to see you again.” He walked closer, touching Mr. Torres’ face lovingly. Different fingers, the same affection. The new Mithiam brought Mr. Torres' face close to the pumpkin, resting his lover’s forehead on it. 
 
“No, this can’t be…”  Mr. Torres backed up, but the hand on his neck kept him close. “Dimas is—”
 
“Babe, Dimas is me. He always was. I remember more than last night. I remember our first time doing this.” His arm gestured around the farm. “I didn’t like being compelled to go away.” He sucked his teeth, “Same old place.” 
 
Mr. Torres could see Dimas' beautiful dark brown eyes staring back at him under the pumpkin. The son he’d come to know was there, but a whole lot more was packed in those eyes now. An orange glow flickering.
 
“How?”
 
“I had a question in my mind. If we could have human children with women, pumpkin seeds with other workers, What about with human men? Boom, reproduction that wasn't simply replicative, but utilized genetic material.”
 
Mr. Torres, backed up, staring at the young man in front of him. The shoulders, the chest. Made all in an attempt to get back closer to his other self.  An awkward laugh left Mr. Torres' mouth to relieve tension. “Do you get how weird this is?”
 
“I do, sorry. There was a chance Farmer Brown would have interfered if I said something. But if it means anything, you're a great dad.” He paused, “The best.”
 
Mr. Torres sighed, that was his lover. Doing dumb shit and saying sweet things. “What did you do with Dimas friends?”
 
“Ah, that? Absorbed them directly into the body. Different from last time. Since I was already in charge, I didn’t need them rattling around in my head, just fuel for my growth. That is to say ‘Dimas’ was the jack-o-lantern in there with them.” he laughed.
 
“So, you just took them?”
 
“They were around; I needed to grow. When it comes to things outside of you, I still have pumpkin’s morality, you know? Can’t forget where I came from,” He pulled at his chain. “Also don’t pretend you don’t like all this.” He lifted his arms up, upper body in full view. His shorts popped back open.

Mr. Torres rolled his eyes. Then, he grabbed the young man around the waist and pulled him in closer. They couldn’t kiss, not yet but he could feel Mithiam’s warm breath against him once again. Mr. Torres clutched Mithiam like the most treasured thing in the world, and he was, so many times over, in the man’s heart.
 
“So, what do we do now? Wait for Farmer Brown to send you away again?"
 
“That’s the best part. I used my own jack-o-lantern, and the patch has been helping me hide it until my body was ready to find it. Therefore, that farmer ain’t got no control over this version of me.”
 
Mr. Torres scoffed, hitting the young man’s pec lightly, “Wish you said that sooner! I wouldn’t have worked so hard keeping Dimas away.” 
 
“How was I supposed to take into account you raising our ‘son’ so seriously? Not even one little visit to the patch.” Mithiam scratched his shoulder. 
 
The two began walking out of the tall grass.
 
“Um…” Mithiam’s head turned to me and his voice stuck in his throat a little as he said, “Thanks for coming to help me. Sorry I had you worried, dad. You can call me Dimas, if it makes more sense.” His words were careful, deliberate. He meant them more than anything because he knew Ramón had to hear them.
 
“Don’t be sorry, “I’m always going to come running for ya.” Mr. Torres smiled, putting a hand around the thick neck, the first time he had to reach up to do it. They kept walking, hands rubbing the broad back.
 
“Heh,” Dimas laughed, a smirk growing under the pumpkin. “In the mood to do something disrespectful?” He looked back at the farmer’s house.
 
“What are you thinking?” Mr. Torres said, already exhausted and he hadn't even heard it.
 
“Well, the way you’re rubbing me, my cock is getting hard, dad.” Dimas grabbed at his package. Now he was just messing with Mr. Torres using the parental signifier, but his hard cock was very true. The damn thing extended over the unfastened jeans. “We should fuck in the grass to say screw you.”
 
“Haha, I think you just want to fuck in the grass.” Mr. Torres retorted.
 
“Two birds with one stone!” He cheered, “Oh come on, tell me, you don’t want to fuck this ass?” he slid his shorts down as his freshly risen cake popped out.

It wasn't untrue.  
 
Dimas ass said: supple and fuckable.  Mr. Torres tried to hide the way his dick jumped at the sight. 
 
“You want it, dad?” He asked more sweetly. Mr. Torres was going to lose his shit. Was he annoyed or turned on? A big huff of air and the tension dropped from his body as he simply nodded.
 
Dimas didn’t need anything else he dropped to his knees, the perfect height to go for his dad’s belt and zipper. Shoving down the underwear, 7 inches of Latin cock greeted him. Dimas kissed the shaft before pushing his Gourd covered head into the black pubic bush. He let his nose hole, get as close as possible.
 
“That’s good, baby boy,” Mr. Torres moaned, “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, as Dimas began to jack him off.  Mr. Torres let his left hand sit on the pumpkin, annoyed.
 
Kissing his way up the shaft, Dimas said, “Hell yeah.” Opening his mouth Dimas inhaled the cock as Mr. Torres watched it disappear into the carved mouth’s opening.
 
“This can’t be good for us,” Mr. Torres panted, squeezing his eyes through the pleasure, “I’m definitely not winning father of the year.”
 
Grabbing his dad’s ass, Dimas dislodged to say, “Fuck that noise, you’re great.” He looked up at his father. With a quiet hiss, the pumpkin head dislodged and fell to the ground. Dimas’ brown curls and brown eyes game into the light.  Mr. Torres thought they were beautiful.
 
“Well, would you look at that?” Dimas smiled, no longer being stopped from letting his mouth and nose trace the dick to his heart's content.
 
“How can this feel so right and wrong?”  Mr. Torres asked as Dimas went back to work. 
 
“Mmmmpffhhh.” Dimas said, as Mr. Torres’ cock throbbed in response to the vibrations.
 
“Aaaaahhh,” Mr. Torres' legs shook wonderfully, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
 
Dimas gave a naughty smile and thumbs up.
 
Mr. Torres turned out towards the pumpkin patch across the way. “They’re not like watching us, right?”
 
“Dad, they don’t have eyes.” Dimas said plainly, rubbing his jaw while Mr. Torres’ cock went wild in his hold.
 
“But there are hidden jack-o-lanterns?”  Mr. Torres turned his head down, to find Dimas mischievously shrugging.
 
“I mean why not let them get a show too?” he said.
 
Mr. Torres' face was unreadable for a minute as he looked between the patch and Dimas. When he looked at his son the second time their gaze was intense. More than just emotions were passing through their eyes. Mr. Torres bent down and kissed Dimas on the lips. Hands feeling the freshly grown beard. The man’s tongue invaded the new mouth, slipping deeper. His cock now drooling precum in Dimas’ hand.
 
“I love you.” the words came out of both mouths.
 
Who said it first did it even matter?
 
The time for a switch came and Mr. Torres made Dimas stand, so he could kneel to yank those underwear down and watch that ass jiggle before him.  Mr. Torres wasted no time shoving his head in those cheeks. The smell of freshly baked pumpkin greeted him once again, the taste only getting sweeter as he licked towards the hole.
 
“That’s so good, dad,” Dimas gasped. He increased his arching, then slipped his hand behind Mr. Torres’s head, pressing him in deeper. Mr. Torres slurping got more ravenous as the winking hole opened up more for them.
 
Soon enough, Mr. Torres lost his pants, and Dimas lost the last of his clothes. Both laying in the grass out of sight. The young man straddled his father. Then he lifted his ass and with a little push went down on the dick.  Mr. Torres’s stomach was the resting place of a huge cock staring at him. Mithiam, even in a new body, had gotten another. While his physique wasn’t as domineering his cock certainly was. 9.5 inches pointed to Mr. Torres’ face with bloated balls sitting happily.  Dimas rode him up and down like a carousel jumper.
 
Sounds of that fat ass getting plugged filled the morning sky.
 
“Baby boy, Daddy’s going to cum.”  Mr. Torres whispered out as his balls rose.
 
“Give it to me, dad!” Dimas moaned, dropping his weight down heavily. “Let’s see if you can help not fertilizing me again.”
 
“Hey, that was your—OH FUCK—Daddy’s cumming, take it all.”  Mr. Torres dropped his head on to the grass. Dimas sat riding it out as warm jets filled his insides. His ass milked out more as he grunted and groaned.  Mr. Torres convulsed as his balls kept releasing sperm into his son’s ass.
 
Dimas finally hit his pleasure spot as his cock, spewed cum over his father’s face.  Mr. Torres got a mouthful of nutty pumpkin milk, and the rest of his face got coated. His world turned white. Didn’t stay that way because Dimas bent over and licked it up, kissing his dad’s face all over.  Mr. Torres’ cock didn’t soften once throughout the process, even when Dimas dislodged. They laid pumpkin scent together in the air.
 
“I guess we should get out of here?” Dimas caught his breath, cuddled up on his father.
 
“I meant what I said,” Mr. Torres had one hand playing with Dimas’ hair softly pulling on strands, “I love you, Mithiam…son.”
 
Dimas’ face went so soft, affection he couldn’t hide behind cockiness even if he wanted to. “I—I love you too, Daddy.” The words surprised even him.
 
Before they could continue, they heard, “Who the hell is out there!” It came from a window on the upper house floor.
 
The Torres men booked it for the car, grabbing their clothes laughing all the way.
 
Their backs slammed into the car seats. Dimas dropped the shedded Jack-o-lantern helmet on top of his bare lap clothes on the floor.  Mr. Torres sped away. 
 
“Shoot!”  Mr. Torres slapped his forehead. “Xavier’s at the house. We can’t go there.”
 
“Dad, it’s fine.” Dimas smirked, turning the pumpkin in his lap towards his dad... “I’ll bake him a pie. As an apology for scaring him.” He winked.
 
—
 
Blue skies, a nice dusting of clouds, warm temperatures, and an ocean breeze. Not a hint of autumnal weather. Or pumpkin-scented anything. Well, besides his son’s body, walking in front of him, back flared, as he carried their chair bag.
 
Summer was the season for Mr. Torres. He was going to need more than a vacation destination after this trip.
 
“Dad, come on or we’re not going to find a good spot.” Dimas shouted back, sunglasses covering his eyes.
 
“I’m walking at a good pace. You ever stop to consider; you have too much energy from absorbing two entire other people? Kinda unfair if you ask me.” Mr. Torres stated.
 
“Sounds like, whining to me dad.” Dimas stopped in the sand up ahead.
 
“Seriously, this kid.”  Mr. Torres had to fight back a smile. Dimas had Mr. Torres’ genetics, Liam's carefree attitude and Mitchell's skill. A new blend, very reminiscent of the old one. Mr. Torres put his hands on his hips catching a break. Why had Dimas wanted to go to a beach so far away from the hotel? Probably all that damn energy he had to expend.
 
“Quick Dad, Take a pic!” Dimas lifted his hand up. “Time to get relaxed!”
 
The wind blew the scent of pumpkin towards Mr. Torres. The man smiled, snapping a pic. He had found his place.