The 42nd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair

Lucas

Lucas groaned obnoxiously in the back of the pickup truck. He deserved to be somewhere better than this, not in some old, decrepit vehicle kicking up dust in the middle of nowhere. To call Lucas a snob would have been polite. Even though he wasn’t in the 1%, being the son of two optometrists had its perks. The 18-year-old obviously didn’t live in a giant mansion inherited over generations, but his family made more than enough money to live comfortably. Because of this, Lucas always spent, dressed, and acted as if he was one of the more valuable items on the market. 

And in some cases, he definitely was. His evergreen Ralph Lauren polo showed off his flat stomach, a gift bestowed upon him from genetics. His straight navy khakis and chocolatey loafers also gave a little peek to the powerful calves resting on strong pedestals, making the high school senior seem taller than his actual even 6’. With chestnut eyes and blond hair styled into a traditional ivy league, Lucas would often melt girls’ hearts at first glance. His voice, personality, and outdated, stereotypical views on the world however turned them away before they could even have a first date.

It wasn’t only the students who noticed Lucas’ smug, heinous attitude. His history teacher had often encountered the senior’s horrid character. It had bothered the older man so much that he’d gone out of his way to tamper with the 42nd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair’s registration forms. He could barely hold back his laughter as he watched Lucas erupt from the news of the interference.

“The Bergstrom Ranch?!” Lucas exclaimed after opening his email. The other students silently giggled as he stomped his way up to the front of the room.

“Is something the matter, Lucas ?” the history teacher innocently asked.

“‘Is something the matter’?” Lucas scoffed. “Yes, something’s the matter! I signed up for the Carmichael Corporation, not some lousy cowboy farm!” 

“Lucas , please lower your voice.” The history teacher quickly brought his elbow to his mouth to cover an escaped laugh, playing it off as a cough. Lucas was too preoccupied with himself to notice. “I’m sorry that there was an issue with your placement, but unfortunately the fair starts in an hour.”

“So you’re saying I have to go!?” Lucas protested.

“Yes,” the history teacher shrugged non-empathetically.

And because of the little “mix-up”, Lucas was pulling into a ragged looking field. Luckily, he wasn’t the only student, but the other 3 passengers were hicks who didn’t want to interact with Lucas . Sighing loudly once more, Lucas watched on as a cluster of barns and a century-old house pulled into view. As they were parking, Lucas noticed that there was some sort of gathering happening near one of the closer buildings. Picnic tables were lined up, covered in an array of food that Lucas had to admit smelled delicious. There were also some people lined up behind the table; Lucas assumed the one older woman was Mr. Bergstrom’s wife and the eight others were their sons. There was a wide variety of ages, with the oldest approaching 30 and the youngest still in elementary school.

Mr. Bergstrom killed the engine of the old pickup and lumbered out of the car. At 6’5, the man represented the term “corn-fed”. The farmer was built well, even for a man over 50. His bulky arms, tanned skin, and muscle-gut strut showed he’d been born on this ranch and planned to die there. And by the way his eight sons were acting, Lucas assumed they all planned to follow in their father’s footsteps.

“Ugh, homeschooled,” Lucas sneered as he and the other boys jumped out from the back.

“Welcome to the Bergstrom Ranch, y’all!” Mr. Bergstrom began in his southern-ish accent, which felt majorly out of place. They were only 45 minutes away from a metropolitan area much closer to Canada than Mexico. 

“Before we start the tour, Mrs. Bergstrom and I thought it would be best to serve you kids a meal with everything we grow here at the ranch. It contains lots of meat and vegetables from the garden: everything a farmer needs to grow big and strong! Just head down the line and my offspring will serve ya up a little of every dish. Mrs. Bergstrom put a lot of work into this meal, so I expect ya to try everything and clean yer plates. Got it?”

The other 3 seniors nodded before hopping right into the line. Lucas followed timidly behind.

“Oh, and manners too!” Mr. Bergstrom added as he hopped in behind the boys. First, Mrs. Bergstrom handed them an actual tray to carry all their food on. Lucas expected it to be followed by a plate, but was surprised when a thick cut of steak was loaded onto the tray instead. One by one, each of the Bergstroms dumped scoops of food Lucas didn’t even know the names for. And with each scoop, Lucas exchanged the same horrified, disgusted grimace. The Bergstroms didn’t seem to notice however as they cheerily pushed the snob along. 

Eventually, Lucas dropped the tray onto a lone picnic table. The thing was heavy, even for a boy entering adulthood like himself. Lucas watched as the others sat down and began eating, followed by the Bergstroms as they grabbed their own portions. Lucas on the other hand sat alone, pouting. He wasn’t going to lower himself to the standards of ranchers.

“Have ya found a favorite yet?” Mr. Bergstrom asked, swinging his giant tree trunk legs under the picnic table. He clumsily bumped both of his knees against the old wood, causing Lucas’ tray to lurch a little both times.

“I’m not hungry,” Lucas responded childishly. He then crossed his arms, appearing even more stubborn. Mr. Bergstrom removed his cowboy hat before continuing.

“I’d disagree,” Mr. Bergstrom bluntly stated, his answer a little harsher than his previous spritely tone. “A young rancher like ya is always gonna be hungry.”

Lucas was about to riot over the older man calling him a “young rancher”, but a loud grumble erupted from his stomach before he could. 

“First, I think yer gonna try the lettuce. It’s mighty fresh and filled with water. It oughta wash away that disposition of yer’s.”

Lucas watched as the farmer scooped a big pile of lettuce into his mouth. He chewed it rather loudly, and then quickly swallowed it down with a loud gulp.

“Well, go on,” Mr. Bergstrom urged. Lucas reluctantly obliged, repeating the rancher’s previous actions in a more civil manner. Once he had finished, Lucas was surprised to feel a lighthearted smile painted across his face. For some reason, he felt happier and more lightweight–like he’d been drugged.

Mr. Bergstrom gave a knowing smile before continuing, “Now try some of this celery, it makes sure a rancher is tall.”

Lucas could’ve sworn that wasn’t true, but he tried to vegetable anyway. He was instantly caught off guard by the strong taste, jumping in his seat and hitting his knees against the picnic table. Mr. Bergstrom laughed as Lucas readjusted himself. He should’ve known better; being 6’3 always seemed to cause these kinds of problems.

“That was a bolder flavor,” Mr. Bergstrom chuckled. “These sautéed onions will have a more savory tones to mellow it out. They’ll also give those arms some definition too”

No longer timid, Lucas shoveled the whole pile of onions into his mouth. Once he was finished, he grabbed a napkin and wiped away the remainders of his lips. Lucas watched as his arms moved, fascinated by his biceps. They, along with his triceps, seemed to be rather large, which was at first appeared almost abnormal. If he was thinking correctly, they almost looked to be the size of large oni-

“Yum!” Mr. Bergstrom interrupted Lucas’ thought process. “That was delicious, but probably not as great as Mrs. Bergstrom’s famous grilled corn on the cob. I mean look at the size of these things!”

Mr. Bergstrom stabbed an ear with a knife before displaying it to Lucas . It was giant, stretching to well over a foot long. Not only that, but the vegetable was still rather girthy. Mr. Bergstrom quickly gnawed through the kernels, causing Lucas to quickly copy.

“Delicious as always,” Mr. Bergstrom hummed. “Those always seem to give young ranchers stronger stalks.”

Lucas laughed to himself at the statement. He already had legs built like steel, thick and juicy just like the corn. One could even see it through his super skinny khakis, which clutched to his strong and muscular trunks for dear life.

“I made this steak myself, so I expect the best of compliments.” Mr. Bergstrom began cutting himself a piece before grinning. “It oughta put some meat on yer bones too,” he said while motioning to Lucas’ tight chest.

“Let’s hope not,” Lucas retorted, grabbing a hearty chuckle out of the farmer as he destroyed his cut. Lucas followed the example before him, enjoying each burst of flavor that travelled through his mouth. After defeating the monster, Lucas lightly pushed himself away from the picnic table. He had to make room for his muscle gut and meaty pectorals, which caused Lucas to wonder how he’d been that close to the table in the first place. His bloated abdomen wasn’t the size of Mr. Bergstrom’s, but it was awfully close. Lucas secretly hoped that one day he would be even bigger.

“Glad to see ya enjoyed that,” Mr. Bergstrom nodded as Lucas absentmindedly rubbed his belly. “Next, I think ya should try these peppers Mrs. Bergstrom grew. They’re a little hot, but they’ll properly roughen up yer vocal chords.”

Lucas eagerly devoured the small red vegetables, not even considering his actions. Because of this, he was completely caught off guard by the scorching feeling in his throat. He brought a hand to his neck, croaking as he snatched a glass of water with his other mitt. Swallowing hastily, he felt his Adam’s apple glide against his palm with every gulp. It felt more swollen with every pass, but Lucas rationalized it was due to the heat.

“A bit of a kick, ‘eh?”

“I’d sure say so,” Lucas rumbled back in a twangy bass that sounded like a more youthful version of Mr. Bergstrom’s.

Mr. Bergstrom let out a small huff before stabbing another vegetable with his fork. “This broccoli was picked fresh this morning! Gives the rancher a fresh head of hair among other things too.” 

Mr. Bergstrom winked as he stacked a few more florets onto his utensil. Lucas did the same, stacking multiple of the little green trees onto the tongs before lifting them all up to his mouth. Although their boiled texture made them seem soggy, they had a surprising amount of flavor. Lucas placed down his fork and grabbed a napkin as soon as he was finished. He swiped the napkin around his scruffy brown beard, making sure to pick out the tiny green pieces as he went along. Lucas then pushed back his dark hair, moving the mane into its usual hockey-flow position.

“Only a few things left to try,” Mr. Bergstrom smiled. “The funk of the cabbage oughta remind you of somethin’.”

Lucas hesitantly brought a chunk of cabbage up to his face before sniffing it. He grimaced slightly, not recognizing the smell as anything in particular. After eating the entire portion he’d been given however, Lucas realized exactly what it smelled like. When workin’ on the ranch from dawn to dusk, a young rancher’s dogs often reek like cabbage. And with the Size 15 stompers Lucas had tucked into cowboy boots underneath the table, he was no exception.

“Now, Mrs. Bergstrom made something real special here. Some pumpkin, eggplant, and radish lasagna.”

Lucas cautiously looked down at the last thing on his plate. The orangeish-purpley blob appeared a little frightening.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Mr. Bergstrom gave his comforting grin one more time before cleaning his plate.  Lucas was a little nervous at first, but the first bite was all it took to get him hooked. The intoxicating combination of sweet flavors, savory notes, and bitter hints got him addicted. As he chewed along, Mr. Bergstrom continued talking.

“Those pumpkins will probably round out the back of those Wrangler jeans.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, adjusting his bottom along the bench. It suddenly felt a lot more inflated than usual.

“The eggplant will scrunch up those checkered boxers ya love to wear.”

Lucas looked down in embarrassment, sending one hand down into his jeans. The 8-incher often had a mind of its own, so Lucas had become accustomed to the art of adjusting.

“And the radishes will produce that classic rancher spunk.”

Lucas absentmindedly cupped his sack a few times too. He noticed how heavy his balls felt, almost the size of large radis-

“What a great meal, wouldn’tcha say so Lewis?”

Lewis snapped back into reality, giving a slow nod. Mr. Bergstrom raised himself up from the table, his stocky body once more hitting the wooden boards. Lewis immediately followed, tucking his green button-up back into his jeans and reattaching his belt. He carefully placed the massive belt buckle back into place, admiring its sheer size and beauty. Lewis finished his look with his trusty cowboy hat, securing it firmly atop his head.

“I’ll meet you by the stables in five, son.”

An erection bounced up in Lewis’s Wranglers instantly. He knew what that code meant.

While Mr. Bergstrom went back to applaud his wife for another incredible meal, Lewis silently strolled to the stable. He knew that everyone would get back to work once the food was gone. Lewis also knew that there was still a solid ten minutes before everyone would be finished. Once he’d found his destination, he leaned up against a stable wall and waited patiently with a goofy smile.

“Ready there, Lewis?” Mr. Bergstrom asked as he approached, his hand pulling down the zipper.

“Yessir!” Lewis replied back obediently, knowing in moments he’d be on his knees.