2004-06-13
8:07 p.m.

Spring Vacation at The Ranch

Clay Aiken is a hard workingman with an obviously fierce work ethic. Lecherous Broads generously invited him to spend his June vacation at our hide away, our home away from home, The Wild BEVR Double-O Ranch. Well, weren't we happily surprised when he decided to come down early, right after he finished up that business for a tv show he used to star on.

So, we packed our bags, and rushed to the place where the Wild BEVRs reign, eager to care for our Freckled Stallion and show him how much we appreciate him.

Well, we were in for even more surprises, and quickly discovered this would turn out to be a working vacation for the Broads.

Many of the Broads were not around last summer when The Ranch sprang to life, and they were clamoring for a way to fit in. We're all about inclusion with our Wild BEVRs, so Cookie Wendy started offering Spatula'r lessons, and The Ranch hands were signing up fast. Broads were offering to do all kinds of jobs at The Ranch, from Cluppy sitter, to Cluppy wrangler. There happened to be some infamous photo circulating around Clay Nation at the time, and weren't the Broads deeee-lighted when Our Coppery Roan offered to demonstrate and teach his cupping technique during his stay with us. Well, just in response to that generous offer the Broads were offering to take care of him in return in every way they could imagine.

Then, a certain Broad who shall remain nameless (clam!), threw down the gauntlet to Ol' Miz Nelle, with this volley... "Nelle, I know about your secret little garage door at The Ranch, but is there still time to put in an alley and a brick wall?"

So, I had to go and let the Broads start a new building project, with this invitation: "Interested Broads, who were not around last summer when The Ranch was holding it's job fair, may sign on for the next two weeks as brick layers."

Well, then all heck broke loose! The Broads started volunteering like no tomorrow, all had much more experience in this department than I had ever imagined....for instance, here's what Robin said:

"Nelle...I failed to mention this before and I know I already have a job but I'm a good lay'er...I don't have a degree but I do have references. I've been know to lay for hours and not complain."

So, the Lecherous Broads quickly began laying bricks, we set ourselves to erecting, and we erected many...walls...mighty quick. The Broads really went at it with intense eagerness, which is not surprising given our reputation for being so enthusiastic. Why, we even saw a slew of MIA Broads show up on the Purple Pages to join in....and, as you now know, LBFCA has always been about inclusion, so of course we let them all have their turns.

While the Broads were signing up for all kinds of positions, and the brick laying was quite satisfactory, I was concerned about abrasive surfaces, and suggested we introduce a carpet sample room at The Ranch for an easier job. Many showed their typical Broadly enthusiasm and offered their very own carpet samples. Then we figured we might just as well lay some carpet around The Ranch. You wouldn't believe how many Broads admitted having quite a bit of carpet laying experience. While the Broads came together for this project, I want to assure you we did have plenty of variety. Many wanted to lay wall to wall, several wanted shag, and a few wanted to stick with the hardwood. Don't let anyone tell you us Lecherous Broads are not diverse.

Then, we needed to give Our Frisky Maverick some time to go to his brother's graduation. So, the Broads just took it easy, which is another fine trait for which we are renowned, and discussed things we wanted to trademark, and tried to guess the secret identity of Dear Clabby. When, before we knew it, Our Tiger returned to peruse the carpet samples until everyone was satisfied. While he was rediscovering just how easy Lecherous Broads like things, we managed to get a couple photos of him up against our new brick walls:

While Clay was letting us play with his zoom lens,

...the earth moved throughout Clay Nation...

That photo was so incredibly beautiful, it was quite apparent The Ranch was in immediate need of an Art Gallery! It could be an expansion of our Creative Hands for Aiken's Personal Satisfaction (CHAPS), artists in residence program. Because we savor luxury at The Ranch, we naturally designed our gallery to feature wall-to-wall carpet, shag of course. The Broads had already demonstrated their tremendous talents in erecting...walls, and their carpet laying skills. Now, many Broads offered up their exhibition abilities, and the pieces were soon well hung.

Take a look at some of our favorites, starting again with the catalyst:

Lila pointed out there was a similar artistic oeuvre in an earlier century, confirming once again Clay Aiken's classic beauty:

Odin had been troubled recently by a bit of bad publicity (codeforphotoscandal!), and he wanted to redeem his image. We love him, so of course we wanted to offer him some exhibit space:

Pretty much every other piece in our gallery is one version or another of this fine work of living art:

We were fortunate to obtain the above pieces from an art dealer named Pooja, through her fine arts supply agency called clayphotos.com. Unfortunately, and unlike how most things go at the Double-O, clayphotos.com was up, then abruptly and way too quickly, was down. Luckily, a few items, apparently previously housed by Pooja, continued to drift into our possession in the following days.

Sadly, it was time for us to let Clay get off...The Ranch. He had his BAF fundraiser in Dover to attend, and some singing to do, and some fast cars to watch. We surely weren't going to try to tie him down and prevent him from leaving, even if we dreamed of doing so. Happily, he gave us a lovely look over his shoulder as he bid us adieu...

While he was away, the Broads got downright squirrelly. We were left to satisfy our longings looking at photos of Our Buttercup playing with his microphone:

It was rather generous of Sweetcheeks to leave those photos for us. After all, he obviously remembered his invitation to The Ranch from last fall. (Scroll down till you see this photo:

That was when we first asked him to bring his big microphone stand to The Ranch.)

Oh well, at least he brought us the photos�and how kind of him to remember how much we like our multiples ;-)

Then, we waited.

And we waited.

One of the Broads started a tradition of sharing our fond memories of that first week of our Vacation at The Ranch. We passed some time reminiscing.

We waited some more (OK, we downloaded everything we could get our hands on from Dover, and watched Clay sing at NASCAR, but work with me here, this is our desperate waiting time�try to feel our pain.) And, we waited some more.

When Clay finally returned, we let him rest, a little, and had a nice quiet remaining week of our vacation. We simply gave him a lot of caring attention so he would remember what it�s like to have our tenderness in his life.

OK, we did work a little more, but mostly enjoyed the fresh air. The cherries were ripe, so we spent a day or two picking and devouring.

Then, we made quite a lot of cherry pie, and enjoyed frozen cherry treats. The next day some Broads had a hankering for some cotton candy, so we just declared it Sweets Day, and we spent the day licking cotton candy and enjoying cherry pie.

Then, Mr. Sugarbritches rewarded us with a glimpse at his latest photo...from the radio version of Solitaire:

Most of the Broads were a little weak in the knees after gazing on that, and needed to rest a bit. Thanks to a juicy fantasy by Ali, we were reminded peaches were in season.

So the Broads headed for the wood.

We picked and devoured till all were gratified.

Many Broads were enjoying their first visit to The Ranch so much, they began looking around in the neighboring areas for real estate.

The next day we decided to take a break from all our travails, and we had Fun and Games Day. Not surprisingly, the Lecherous Broads knew a LOT of Games. The suggestions came fast and furious, such as spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, doctor, strip poker, blind man's buff (I think she meant 'bluff.'), truth or dare, Cranium, ring toss (with a variation using Krispy Kreme's), tonsil hockey, house. Oh, we had quite a romp.

Naturally Our Krispy Kreme Stud wanted to play his favorite, and he had to control everything...

(There will be no photos of Nek'kid Twister shown on the MP...what kind of place do you think we are?)

But, then he surprised us, by bringing a new player into the game...

Well, you can imagine how thrilled we were that he remembered. Woohooo, we certainly were exhausted after a night with that!

The next day was to be our last full day with Clay on The Ranch. Joanie suggested we simply get into our jammies and tell bedtime stories. Which was a big hit. A Broad or two told a bit of magical tale. Then, pam delivered an epic in three parts:

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE by pam

I want to preface this with saying this story is not based on the Maurice Sendak classic of the same name, but just boldly steals its title and its naughty little boy getting ready for bed

Once upon a time, there lived a sassy woman and her even sassier little boy. He was curious and clever and had a propensity for fibbin'. This poor woman did everything she could to keep her son on a straight and narrow path, but he just wouldn't quit sassin' and fibbin'. Oh, yes, she would even wash his mouth out with soap, but he never seemed to mind. In fact, he would usually hum a song while she was doing it. And then fib again the very next day.

She had her hands full looking after her boy all day long, and looked forward to a good night's sleep. So every night, as she would get her boy washed up, into his pajamas, and tucked snugly in bed, she would sweetly remind him of the Wild Things that lurked in his bedroom closet. She made a big show of it, sometimes talking to the mysterious creatures in the closet, and even giving them food on occasion. And she told the most marvelous tales of danger and hinted at their wicked sinfulness. Oh, this mother was clever all right.

But the boy was cleverer. And beyond that, he was strangely tempted by the tales of danger and sin. So he would often sneak into the closet in the hopes of befriending the Wild Things. And he was sadly disappointed in his mother's fibbin'. For there were no Wild Things. Just some toys, a pile of wrinkled up clothes, and his mirror. Often, after another fruitless hunt for the Wild Things, he would just sit and hum, and practice making faces in the mirror.

Well, one day, his mother had really had enough. Beyond his usual sassiness, on this day, the boy had actually taken his baby brother's cotton candy. He laughed at him and said he'd better get used to it. So the mother marched her boy up to bed earlier than usual, got him into his pajamas, and spent more time than usual talking to the creatures in the closet. And she gave them an offering of Krispy Kremes, if they would only show her boy the error of his sinful ways. And she stomped back down the stairs.

Well, the boy could not believe how his mother even claimed to be clever. Surely she knew that he would go in after the Krispy Kremes. And so he did. As he sat quietly in the corner, stuffing his face, enjoying that creamy goodness, the closet door suddenly slammed shut!

Well, this had never happened before. He wiped off his mouth, and got up to open the door. It wouldn't budge. He tried again, and finally started to bang on it. And just as suddenly as it had closed, it seemed to swing open by itself.

He nervously peeked out and could see that he was no longer in his bedroom. The cowboy themed bedcovers and curtains had seemingly turned into an actual ranch of sorts. Only there were no cowboys here, just a very wild looking group of women. He started to walk over the threshold of his door, when he noticed his feet.

The boy looked down and could not believe what he saw! For he was no longer a ten year old boy, but a full grown man! He gasped as he saw cinnamon coloured hairs peeking out from the top of his flimsy t-shirt. Oh my goodness, he thought, I'm going to have to start wearing thicker shirts to cover those. His eyes peered down the length of his body. He had no idea what was happening under his loose pajama bottoms, but he kinda liked it. His legs seemed to just go on forever until they finally ended at his long, thin, perfectly pedicured feet.

The man found a bush near the closet door, so he hid behind it to watch the mysterious women. They were dressed in very little clothing, most just covering their private areas with flowers, leaves, straw skirts, and some sort of tassels like the ones on the dining room curtains that his baby brother was always grabbing and chewing. The women were wandering all over the ranch, each going about different activities, and seemingly all living in harmony with one another.

Some were in beautiful orchards filled with lush peach and cherry trees. Some were tending to plants in the garden, while others were building structures with handtools. Some were biking along a scenic path, while others squealed as they bent and twisted over a polka-dot mat. And a few seemed to be caught up in their own thoughts as they relaxed in chaise lounges on the front porch of the ranch house. Well, besides their strange dress, they didn't seem too wild or sinful to this young man. So he got up his courage and moved towards the women on the porch.

Well, before he took three steps, women started approaching him from all sides. Soon, he was completely encircled.
"Are you our prince?" asked one of the women.
"I don't know," he answered, "Who are you?"
"We are the broads of the Double-O Ranch, and we are waiting for our prince."
"Many have come through the gates of our ranch, claiming to be our prince, but none has passed the test," said another.
"It takes someone very special to satisfy so many women at one time. So I ask again, are you the one?"
The man did not know what to say, but he did notice the broads looking at his feet. "Um, I don't know if I'm the one or not. What's the test?"
"You must sing for us. Have you ever seen one of these?" and she handed him a microphone.

Well, as a boy, he'd never held a real microphone before. He usually used a hairbrush when he practiced his singing and faces in the mirror. But he liked the feel of the microphone in his hands, and it seemed to remind him of something else that he was going to like an awful lot; he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"What do you want me to sing?"
"We can't tell you what to sing. That's part of the test."

So the young man cleared his throat, gathered his courage, tried to smooth down his pajama bottoms, then launched into a favourite from his mother's oldies station.
"Hold me, hold me, never let me go...."

Well, the effect was almost immediate. Broads started swooning and fainting left and right. Others turned into puddles of liquid right before his eyes. Still others seemed to shake and shiver in a way which he had never seen before. Pretty soon, the moaning sounds emanating from so many broads drowned out his singing and so he stopped.

He looked over the sea of broads at his feet and surveyed his new kingdom. For although he knew not what he had done, he knew he had done it, and he liked it.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE PART 2 by pam

when we left off, our young hero had entered a faraway land, inhabited by wild, beautiful women. He sang for them, and they all moaned, writhed, and fainted in ecstacy. As we enter part 2, please note that any similarities to any real broads, living or dead, sane or insane, is purely coincidental, entirely unintentional, and sealed with a kiss

The young man basked in his newfound power, clasped his microphone tightly in his left hand, and put his right hand up to his chin. He gasped a little as he felt the stubbly hair growing there. And he smirked a little more. Subconsciously, his right hand moved down and started to scratch the hair on his tummy, just above the elastic waistband of his pajamas. Oh my. He didn't really know what to think about all this new hair. But his curiousity got the better of him, and he pulled the waistband outward, and glanced down. Okay. This, he could get used to. And he basked and smirked some more.

Soon, his thoughts were interrupted as he could hear a door opening and closing, and the sound of several pairs of bare feet emerge from the ranch house. These broads were dressed in a similar fashion to all the other broads, but they were all wearing some type of crown on their heads. He'd seen these crowns before, in the dress-up trunks of his girl cousins, when he was forced to play in their rooms so he wouldn't interrupt the adult conversation with his cleverness.

"Oh my," sighed the broad with the biggest crown, "It's happened again." She pulled a huge keychain from underneath her palm frond skirt, and started jingling them loudly.
"But never quite like this," answered the broad standing next to her. This broad had long hair the colour of sunshine and also seemed to have fashioned her palm fronds into the shape of an apron. "It's usually only a handful of broads that swoon at the singers entering our gates. And none of them has ever turned into liquid before."

Just then, a cat carrying a pair of portable defibrillators exited from a little flap door, and the young man jumped a little, and hid behind the largest broad on the front porch. She giggled, and he stared admiringly at her ample derriere. The cat nonchalantly leapt off the porch and traveled from broad to broad, applying the defibrillators like an expert.

"Yes, maybe there is more to this young man. He certainly seems quite, um, gifted," said the broad with the keys, as she looked admiringly at his pajama bottoms. The young man looked down and tried to squirm to hide the activity in his pants, not knowing that his movements did nothing to hide it, but in fact drew more attention to it.
"So, I imagine that you sang for the broads," she continued in her regal tone.
"Why yes, ma'am, I did. And they really seemed to like it."
"Yes, so it seems. And don't call me ma'am. But you know, those broads are nothing more than glorified ranch hands. Simple broads with simple needs. Why, they can find great joy in the most menial of tasks. When I asked them to build a wall, they asked me how high. And they didn't even ask what purpose a brick wall would serve. They just..."
The blond broad nudged her with an elbow, "I can think of a use for that brick wall," and motioned with her eyes toward the continued activity in the pajama bottoms. The young man continued his self-conscious squirming.

"The point I'm trying to make is that others have caused these simple broads to faint. What effect will your singing have on me and the other princesses of the ranch?" she asked as her eyes took in all the tiara-clad broads lined up on the porch.

So the young man reached down, grabbed his um, wrong hand, grabbed his microphone and launched back into Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me.

Well, he could see them clutch their hands tightly together, and steel themselves against the porch railing. Many were biting their lips and sweating profusely. Yet only two fainted. He stopped singing.

"Well, most impressive, young man," the broad with the keys managed to get out in panted breaths, "wouldn't you agree, Cookie?"
"Hang on a second, I'm almost done," replied the blond.
The first broad coughed and quickly turned her attention back to the young man. "Sing something else. Maybe something a little lower." And her eyes unconsciously wandered downward.

Now the young man became even more nervous and he tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. He couldn't sing low. He was just a boy. But no, he realized, he wasn't. Maybe he had developed a lower singing register, along with the extra body hair and, um, enhanced equipment. So he remembered the men at his church, and the hymns that they would sing. Even he could appreciate the soothing sounds of a masculine voice singing slowly and deeply. Why he never even stuck his tongue out at his brother or his girl cousins while the men were singing.

So he cleared his throat again, tugged a little more at his shirt, put the microphone to his lips, closed his eyes, and sang "The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power."

And as his voice washed over even him, and he became lost in his song and his power, he didn't notice the sounds of broads writhing and fainting on the porch steps. He didn't hear the clinking of their tiaras on the wooden slats. And he certainly didn't notice the sound of the cat purring contentedly at his leg.

But when he finished, he opened his eyes, and sighed with a mixture of relief and pride. He again surveyed the effects of his singing and took great pleasure in what he had done. And so he shook the cat off his leg and pointed him toward the defibrillators. The cat let out a little hiss and got back to work. And the young man could only wonder at what life would be like as the Prince of the Double-O Ranch. And what that broad meant by "gifted."

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE PART 3 by pam

when we left off in part 2, our hero had impressed himself and all the princess broads with his stirring rendition of The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power, and then sent the cat off to revive broads from every nook and cranny of the ranch. Again, any similarities to any real broads is purely coincidental, and I didn't do that good a job at disguising anyone

The young man stood at the top of the porch steps, and again subconsciously started scratching himself. Stop that right now! he says to himself. Boy, how can you control these things when they seem to have minds of their own? He continued scratching and surveying, shivering a little every time he noticed the cat going about the business of jump-starting the broads' hearts. He had no idea why a cat would freak him out, but he certainly respected the little guy's professionalism. Of course he had no idea that this particular cat was upset about sharing his broads with a real man. For even though the cat was a, well, eunuch, he still received lots of love and attention from broads desperate for any type of male attention, no matter how small the remnants.

The man sat on the top step and became somewhat lost in his thoughts, especially about being "gifted". He loved presents, but never received many, because, as his momma always told him, "it's better to give than to receive." And most of them were home-made anyway because "it's the thought that counts." "So think about giving me some better presents," he'd told his momma, and handed her the soap. Well, he could already tell that even if these broads were going to go the home-made route with their gifts, they were a little craftier than most of his family members.

He stretched out his long legs, and could see that the broads were slowly coming to. At first, they just sat and gazed at the handsome young man. Then, a few made their way to him and reached out to touch him. He wasn't sure what to make of this, but it felt good to have the broads gently stroke his hair and neck and arms. More than a couple seemed fascinated by his feet and lavished them with tender caresses. He closed his eyes, but snapped back to attention with the snapping of his elastic waistband. "What are you doing?" he asked as he backed up toward the front door of the ranch, gripping his waistband tightly.

"Just curious. We need to make sure you have what it takes to satisfy so many women," said the mousy, bespectacled, yet strangely attractive broad who had boldly grabbed his pajama bottoms.
"And you need to check inside my pants to find out? Whatever could there be...oh....I get it."
"Are you sure? You look awfully, um, innocent."
"Hey, I am not as innocent as I look." And he flashed them one of the faces he practiced in the mirror. It's the face he saw one of his older boy cousins making while flexing his biceps in the bathroom mirror. The sassy boy hiding behind the shower curtain had to stifle his laughter, but that didn't stop him from practicing the look himself. And now as a full-grown man, he could see that the look didn't invoke laughter in others. In fact, it brought about another round of moaning and swooning.

"Oh my, his eyes are like green lasers shooting to my very core!"
"I think I'm pregnant."
"Out of my way! I saw him first!" and they all wound up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Broads! Broads! Behave yourselves!" It was the broad with the keys again. She was putting her crown back in place and smiling coyly at the young man. "Well, it seems that we have indeed found our prince. We must treat him with love and respect, for his voice is a gift to us all."
"Like you haven't noticed how freakishly gorgeous he is?" muttered another tiara-clad broad from the back of the porch.
"I heard that. And yes, he is quite, um, handsome, with classic good looks. Why, just look at those cheekbones, and that nose, and, um," she trailed off as her eyes again unknowingly glanced southward. She forced her eyes back upward and continued, "We have been waiting for the One Man who could satisfy all the Wild Broads of the Double-O Ranch. We are prepared to give you great pleasure, just as you will bring great pleasure to us all."
"What kind of pleasure? Singing? And are there any gifts for me?" the man asked, with just a hint of uncertainty.
She cleared her throat, "All kinds of sensory gifts and pleasures await you at the ranch. Wonderful scenery, delicious things to eat, and plenty of um, hands-on activities to take your mind off your troubles. We will tend to your every need. All we ask is that you approach every new experience the same way you approach your singing performances. Enthusiastically and without inhibition."

And so they gave their prince a tour of the ranch. He was certainly impressed with the enthusiasm of all the broads, both those with tiaras and those without. He was also impressed with the varied topography of the ranchlands, especially all the hidey holes just off every pathway. And he understood what the wise broad meant when she spoke about pleasure, and his presence allowed it to spread to every nook and cranny of the ranch.

And his momma was right too when she said it was better to give than to receive. The broads seemed to believe this as well. And so it went that there was a lot of giving and receiving. And if he ever really needed a moment to himself, the young man just whistled for the cat and started singing for his broads. And even though they always writhed and fainted, they always showed their appreciation when they came to.

And so, thirteen days after the tour started, it finally finished, back where it started up again. And it always took a few different twists and turns, but it always took thirteen days. And before the end of the second tour, those pajamas and t-shirt were history. And they could not help but to live happily ever after.

Well, by the time we�d all finished, everyone�s pajamas were quite damp, and we couldn�t sleep in them. So, we didn�t.

The next day was bittersweet, as we said our goodbyes to Our Frisky Fragrant Blossom, and away he went, with hardly a scratch on him. Well, maybe one little nick�

Nelle
The Double-O Wild BEVR Ranch
Area 919
State of Delusion, 69000

With thanks to Cindy for photo shopping the Twister pictures (to add the clothing)
Thanks to pam for her epic tail tale
Thanks to all the photographers and Clack gatherers

Thanks to Clay Aiken for everything