Mabon

 This fall equinox festival was Lance’s first Mabon on the land. It was also his first time hooking up with Vince.

Festivals were a special time on the land. The normally exclusive male space opened to all genders to open the land and its people to special changes to mark the seasons. Of course, it was still an 18 and older space. Because children are ugly little monsters whose parents usually use them as excuses to kill their own life in efforts to become living ghosts of the children’s future. And because the open-surveillance concept did not allow minors to sign away marketing rights of their recorded image.

There were cameras in all the public spaces where anyone could pay to watch online, but also there were private spaces for the permanent residents. Lance had been honored for his service to the land with a private tiny-home. This was a cozy one-room building that had a beautiful bed, large windows that could be set to tinted or clear, and a solar panel roof that allowed for temperature control of the room along with surplus electricity for personal use. The deal for residents was to work for rent, or pay one half of whatever earnings they made to the community as rent. Some men used all their electricity, and purchased additional batteries for all the online work they did from their homes; some operated drones all over the world that did all kinds of work from the comfort of their secluded home that was still a part of an amazing public for profit community of sober people who knew how to have all the wild fun without any of the wild hangovers.

Mabon was the heart of fall: from sunrise Sept 20th to sunset Sept 22nd. Lance could feel the changes in the air as he woke up with the sun on the morning of the 20th. He gathered the jagged rocks he’d ritualistically scattered around his bed the night before; put them in a container under his altar to the Earth God. Then he went to check the batteries at the side of his house. There were three and the recommendation was to have at least one and a half charged at all times. Lance had two fully charged and one charged to ¾; a result of hardly ever being at his home and hardly ever using the AC. He took the fully charged ones to exchange them for uncharged batteries at Warren’s Hearth. 

Jackalope Ranch was a marvel of modern industry. All the private road from the public road to the community was topped with solar panels that would soon be melting snow to keep the road clear. All year long it charged EV batteries to be bought and shipped all over the country. The ElectricVehicle revolution was when every vehicle, no matter the make or model, would use the same small, powerful, easily changeable batteries. Some larger trucks took up to six batteries, though most did just fine with one or two. Service stations, formerly gas stations, sold snacks right alongside full-power batteries. These same batteries powered the tiny homes, along with just about everything else on Jackalope Ranch. About half of Jackalope’s profits came from the sale of EV batteries. It was the half that got donated to LGBTQ activists all over the world; the other half was more than enough for both community maintenance and improvements. 

Lance dropped off the two full-charge and picked up two uncharged. They were small enough to hold both in a single hand. He pocketed the uncharged batteries and joined Keith who he saw at the back of the breakfast line. 

“Hey Keith! Happy Mabon!”

“Blessed be, my friend! How are you? How’s life as a resident?” They hugged a warm greeting. 

“Good! Good, thanks. How’s life in Denver? How’s Buster?”

“Oh, Denver is still just a gross collection of cookie cutter houses with the most boring people filling them up with their extremely boring children. Buster is good! He just turned 20. Wish I could have brought him to see you!” There were no dogs allowed on the land, not even the adorably ancient chihuahua called Buster. 

“Oh I bet that dog still has another 20 years left in him.”

“Gods, I hope so! I don’t know what I’ll do when he passes away.”

Lance had started to earn a bit with the sex shows that resulted from any sex in public space. It was a great business concept: people had natural, romantic fun in ways that resulted in all different types of video for all different types of processing. He made a mental note to send Keith a coupon to adopt a puppy this Yule, whether or not Buster was still alive.

They had a delicious breakfast together. Keith had German pancakes; Lance had fruit salad, along with grits and cheese. Lance insisted on taking all the dishes afterwards to the dishpit and gave Keith a warm goodbye. 

He then strapped the large basket to his back that had the rabbit’s salad for NorthEast Warren and hiked to the warren; connecting the uncharged batteries to his tiny home on the way to NorthEast. 

All the rabbits were free-range, but they knew where to get fed. The ones who usually hung around NorthEast were mostly familiar to Lance by now and they jumped for joy at the sight of him with their morning meal.

Lance looked for Keith after he dropped the empty basket off at Warren’s Hearth, but Keith had moved on somewhere, probably to set up his tent in a good spot before the rest of the visitors took all the good spots. 

Lance was horny and wondering if any of his fuck buddies were looking to fuck. He loved that about the land: no messaging jerks and catfish online who couldn’t be bothered to make or keep any plans, just in person encounters that were just as fun if by chance or by plan.

The public bathhouse was not a place to douche. But in the opposite direction, there was a row of private showers about a 25 minute hike away that had large drains and easy to clean douche nozzle attachments. Running water was the one thing these rural New Mexico mountains didn’t have in abundance, but there were wells on the land and piping that always made the most of water. These public showers all drained to a flat area where the water dried pretty fast. The gullies that lead to that area were lined with willow trees who loved the dirty gray water. The nontoxic body wash in the showers was no harm to the land or the trees.

After a visit there, Lance was ready to be a hungry cumslut for anyone cute who gave him a wink. He’d wasted enough of his childhood being so afraid to not give cute people too much attention. Now, he had no problem being assertively flirty to whoever he was interested in. Maybe he wasn’t the kindest at shutting down unrequited lust, but avoiding conflict moderation was good enough for him. He didn’t need to be everyone’s best friend, but he still really enjoyed being good friends with good benefits with these healthy, slutty men who responsibly monitored their health and their medication intake. 

He didn’t have anymore animal husbandry duty until just before sunset, so he wandered between the public building enjoying watching all the people who moved about their business. Some stopped to stare at Lance’s bare chest and well-fitting shorts, but none who interested Lance. 

Then he made his way to the greenhouse with the primary crop of spearmint. He was going to just meditate within the aroma therapy the space offered, but he was happy to see Vince relaxing on one of the day beds between the rows of plants. He’d seen Vince briefly before at meals and meetings, but hadn’t really got a chance to say more than hello. There was Vince with his sketchbook doing a detailed colored pencil sketch of one of the plants in front of him.

Vince had auburn curls that fell well below his pale, muscular shoulders. He was just wearing a blue tank top and some well-worn purple briefs. Lance decided it was worth the risk of being annoying to disturb the art work he was obviously enthralled with. He sat down on the edge of the plastic-leather umber-colored daybed.

“How’s the sketch coming?”

Vince looked up and smiled, “It’s coming…” He turned the sketchbook for the drawing to face Lance. “What do you think of it?”

Its detail was stunning and its colors vibrant. “Wow! I love it!” Then Lance decided to push his luck and looked up from the sketch book to look into Vince’s beautiful blue eyes, “It’s almost as beautiful as the artist who drew it.”

Vince laughed. He put down his sketchbook and pencils down on the floor under the bed. Then he turned and sat cross-legged facing Lance. “Yea, you really think so?”

Lance scooted closer to the ginger Adonis, “Oh yeah, I’ve always thought so.” He put a questioning hand on Vince’s knee. Vince ran his left hand through his hair to leave it all hanging down off his right shoulder. Then he leaned in and started kissing Lance’s neck. Lance all but melted with pleasure.

They broke just long enough to shimmy out of their clothes, then got back to passionately making out. Vince’s soft lips knew just how to move. His tongue playfully entangled with Lance’s. Both men were rock-hard. 

“Can I ride you?” Lance asked 

“Fuck yea you can” Vince lay on his back and got a handful of lube from the dispenser that was conveniently placed next to the public bed. He lubed himself up before he watched Lance’s hot twink body mount him. Lance grabbed some lube from the dispenser and lubed up his crack between his smooth bubble butt. 

Both men moaned with pleasure as Vince’s hard cock slid inside Lance’s tight hole. Lance leaned back and slowly gyrated. Then forward to kiss Vince’s hungry mouth.

Vince’s strong hands grabbed Lances’ ass and held him up a bit as he pounded hard. Lance’s moan was almost a scream as he loved every inch of Vince that was inside him. 

Then Vince slowly pulled out and told Lance to get on his back. Lance eagerly got on his back and threw his legs in the air; his hands behind his head as he loved the sight of Vince mounting him. Vince put Lance’s legs at his shoulders as he once again slid inside Lance’s clean hole.

He slowly fucked him at first then ramped up to faster and faster. Vince’s hands were tight around Lance’s waist as he emptied his load inside him. Lance came at the same time without even touching himself just from the joy of holding on to Vince’s beautiful body as it tightened with the ecstasy of being inside him.       

                          

Lammas

 The morning of July 31st was clear and bright. Lance woke up and stretched luxuriously when the light from his window reached his face. He loved getting up with the dawn, and positioned his bed so his east facing window was the perfect natural alarm clock. 

Today was the beginning of Lammas: the three day - two night celebration to mark the beginning of harvest. He flipped over to flatten his morning wood against his stomach and breathe slowly until it went down. Sure, he was young and full of cum, but he lived for these festivals and there was much celebrating that needed to be done. 

He got up and started to pick up the jagged rocks he had scattered over his floor before bed. It’s not that he didn’t trust his community; it’s that he came from a violent past where abuse was more frequent than love. The deadbolt on the door and the rocks on the floor were mainly for his own peace of mind and were set and laid with intent to keep out the flashbacks of what happened to him far too often when he had neither of those thing to protect him in the crowded trailer where his mother trapt him to neglect him; to neglect what her boyfriends did to him. 

His private tiny home on the land was almost twice the size of that trailer and a million times more comfortable. The rocks collected, he stored the container neatly under his poster of the Earth God. That poster and a poster of Odin was all that decorated his walls. Both were made and printed by resident artists who he knew personally.     

Jackalope Ranch was a revolution of community industry. It began as an open surveillance animal farm that sold live rabbits, rabbit stew, and access to viewing the sober men who worked there having naked fun times between their work. It was an interesting slice of the male spectrum: just from those addicted to junk food to those addicted to health food, everything in between, but nothing on either side that involved drug use. 

From there it had become a glass manufacturing factory that made original glass art, glass paneling for the vegetable/herb/fruit greenhouses, and glass paneling for the by-mail custom framing orders available to the online customer. Custom framing - for resident artists and anyone online. Glass bottles with teas and lemonades - free for residents or available to purchase for anyone online. 

Bubbles up and down the corners of public buildings had cameras; so did mirrored obelisks that scattered the land tastefully close to outdoor beds that had rubber mattresses that were washed regularly. 

The eight points of the wheel of the year were all-gender festivals. Already, webcam women from all over the world were arriving for the music festival that would begin tomorrow. Some would opt to pay to have any camera freeze frame printed and framed for some artistic photography that could be held or sold.      

Lance did love to be held, but he was not for sale. He was loyal to the soil, and he enjoyed every bite of his egg-zucchini-hot sauce scramble he had for breakfast. It all came from the soil of his community’s land; except for the hot sauce, but nothing’s perfect.

He dropped off his dish at the dish pit and practically skipped to his rabbit feeding duties at the North East pinnacle. Surrounding the public kitchen, The Warren’s Hearth, were five rabbit housing/feeding areas: True North; North East; South East; South West; North West. They were the points of the pentagram that was the center of the land. The pentagram was big and so was the land. It was a brisk 45-min frolic from Warren’s Hearth to North East.

Lance made it there in 35 minutes, even with the large basket strapped to his back. It held fresh chopped lettuce, cabbage, celery and carrots. The rabbits saw him coming and started to show their personalities: some sat indifferent, some ran, some jumped for joy. Rabbits could move freely between the pinnacles, but they usually didn’t. Like people, they were mostly creatures of habit. They knew a feeder would arrive at each pinnacle about the same time, and it was a form of punishment to move a rabbit to a different pinnacle if it was being unruly.  

First Lance set the basket on top of one of the lower sheds, then opened another to get a large bucket full of feeding pellets. These he spread evenly over the long feeding trough. The well-fed rabbits ignored the pellets. They’d be mostly gone before tomorrow, but currently they waited semi-patiently for their fresh salad. Lance expertly shuffled his feet between rabbits as he spread it evenly along the long trough. 

The mostly-friendly rabbits shared the food in a mostly-friendly way. Lance saw a large buck with both white stripes and speckles on its red-brown fir grab the heart of a romaine away from another who was chewing it just a few paces away from the trough.

“Hey! Stop that!”

The rabbit looked right at him then smacked the rabbit in the face that came up to attempt to share the romaine lettuce heart that was just taken. Lance pulled out his stun dart gun and the bully buck got a dart in the neck before it knew what hit him. Lance removed the dart and moved the limp rabbit out of the way of getting trampled. He’d wake up in 3 hours or so. Then he could have some pellets by his lonesome.

Any regular day, Lance would have stayed longer to break up fights and determine which should be the next to go in the next hunt. But today was a festival and Lance hurried off to shower and change. 

He arrived at the bathhouse naked except for the sandals on his feet, holding his fresh clothes in his naked arms. This made so much more sense to him than having to make another trip back to his one-room home to drop off his dirty clothes.

He eyed himself in one of the obelisks on the way to the indoor showers. He’d filled out a bit since arriving on the land, but he was still a twink in every definition of the word: young, petite, hairless. He had mousy brown hair, fair skin, and pink nipples. He’d never thought of himself as much to look at but he’d stopped thinking of himself as ugly. He had substance to his character and didn’t need sex to be a part of every relationship that he cherished. 

That’s not to say he didn’t especially enjoy the ones that did feature sex. 

Leaving freshly showered, he didn’t keep on the clothes for very long that he had just put on. He saw Dallas entering the showers as he was leaving them. “Hi!”

“Hey. What’s good handsome?”

“Just getting done with my morning routine. How about you?”

“Same. I was about to jerk off in the shower, want to join me?”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. “Can you just do a quickie shower, save the load, and come makeout and jerk off with me on that outdoor bed under that gazebo over there?..” He pointed to a beautiful gazebo that was about 50 yards away.

Dallas flashed a dazzling smile. “Sure thing handsome.” He bent down and gave Lance a soft, sweet kiss. “Go wait for me over there and I’ll be right there.” He gave Lance a playful spank as he went to shower.  

Lance ran to the gazebo. It was empty and the bed was clean. It was meant to be. People were walking past but no one was walking to the gazebo. If they had been they would have seen a mean side of Lance. This was his time that he’d been waiting for. It could be recorded forever in all sorts of formats, but it was still going to be the first time he’d be ‘alone’ with Dallas in this way. They’d made out and cuddled a couple times, but there were always people pulling Dallas in every direction and Lance didn’t want to come off as needy or possessive. He’d usually just pretend to be more understanding than he was when Dallas was engaged with other people who Lance preferred to avoid.

Lance was 18 and Dallas was 20-something. Dallas was a good two - two and a half heads taller than Lance: the reason Lance wanted them on a bed together rather than showering next to each other. And the reason that makeout and jerk off was the plan. Dallas had a beautiful, girthy 13” cock that Lance wanted to tease but not ride. Almost everyone on the land was polyamorous; almost every hungry bottom on the land was desperate to ride Dallas. Dallas was a slut and most of them did get a chance. No shame in it. It’s who he was and Lance loved him for who he was, but he also loved that today he got a chance at a little bit of relative privacy with Dallas. 

This was the Starlight Gazebo. Beautiful well-oiled wooden beams held up a ceiling that had been painted black; the exact replica of the stars that could be seen here at night were painted onto that ceiling. The iron posts that supported the bed in the center were black. The comfortable foam rubber mattress was a solid navy blue. All of it looked beautiful in the center of the floor that had been painted pale blue. Lance kicked his legs at the side of the bed in a not very successful attempt to wait patiently. 

Then he saw Dallas walking out the bathhouse towards him. He held a backpack in one hand; the other hand loosely held up the white towel with blue stripes that was the only thing he wore. His beautiful, black skin was glistening in the sun. He was tall, muscular and every bit the gentle giant that Lance wanted to climb like a tree. Halfway to the gazebo, he dropped the towel as a wrap and just threw it over his shoulder. 

Lance now shed his jean shorts and tank top in a flash and threw them into a corner of the gazebo. He checked the posts of the bed. Each held a lube container that was more than half full. Lance was practically a dog wagging his tail when Dallas arrived at the steps to the gazebo. He hung the towel over the railing and his backpack on one of the hooks on a support beam. 

“Get on all fours”

Lance jumped into the center of the bed on hands and knees. Dallas got behind him and ate the lil bubble but like an appetizer. He lapped fast then flicked slow with his tongue. Lance was moaning and leaking precum. Dallas kissed up his spine and put his full weight on him for half a second before flipping over onto his back and taking Lance with him so now Lance was on top. Lance made his way to the beautiful cock. He could barely get half of it in his mouth, but he loved fondling the heavy balls as he did it. He loved the sound of Dallas moaning with pleasure. 

Then he got some lube from one of the posts to lube up both their cocks. He lay half on his side, and half on top of Dallas as they made out and jerked off. Dallas came first and Lance shortly after. 

Lance was about to get up, but Dallas pulled him back down. “Let’s just lay here for a minute, relaxing after is the best part.” So they did. Lance’s head on Dallas’ muscular chest as he enjoyed the beautiful rhythm of the heart he loved more than anything.             

                     

Litha

 Lance had barely been there for over a month and already had the honor of participating in the Caveman Hunt. 

The dawn of MidSummer was a bright and warm June 21st. The previous night had been relatively warm. They’d all slept in the ceremonial cave in loincloths and facepaint, but it was still a very modern hunt. All of the facepaint was toxic free and cruelty free; a new standard of production loosely enforced by the UCE, or the United Countries of Earth; a globalist movement that never valued nationalism over humanity.

So these nearly naked, absolutely wonderful men all got up at dawn and started to warm up. They had varying degrees of face makeup to full body glitter. These rabbits were easy to catch. 

Jackalope was a cruelty free animal farm. Problem was they might have been a bit too cruelty free and been turning their rabbits into drug addicts. No animal was slain while awake, but the blow darts tipped with Trazodone THC Indica usually put an animal to sleep in less than a minute, with varying degrees. The Jackalope Promise was that any animal that didn’t go to sleep in less than 3 minutes got to live. They’d get a small gold hoop earring on each ear to assure they’d either be sold as a pet or live at Jackalope Ranch until they died of old age; the sleep formula to put them down would then get modified and often strengthened. 

Each hunter leaving the cave left in search of the rabbit they had in mind. The Earth God was a black rabbit that held galaxies within; the rabbits that hopped about them now all had a bit of the Earth God in their own way. These rabbits were the same brown-red color as the dirt around them, but they had all sorts of stripes, speckles, and spots of bright white; each pattern as unique as a fingerprint. 

Only feeders could be hunters. Though often a man participated in differing types of work, each man that left the cave’s primary duty on the ranch was to feed the rabbits. This was a hunt of intent. They watched the rabbits as they fed them, to determine which were the bullies, and these were the ones they hunted now.  

Lance was after SkullFace, the secret name for the rabbit he had in mind. As a general rule at Jackalope, every male rabbit was Buck and every female rabbit was Dorothy. Naming rabbits was frowned upon unless it was a single one you kept with you for at least 20 hours a day.   

Though Skullface was a perfectly friendly rabbit, Lance just didn’t like how lazy this rabbit was. It never did anything other than lay there, all red with a bright white head. Then walk to food, eat, and immediately nap right in the way of the other rabbits trying to get to food. 

This rabbit's day had come. The rabbit Lance intended to bring back to the execution elder in the earth temple was SkullFace.

The trouble was where to find him. As soon as they left the caves, most of the rabbits swarmed them when they saw the blow dart guns. Each rabbit got put to sleep occasionally, for their medical check ups, and the formula was obviously a pretty good way to get put down.

Lance ran through the Junipers to where there was almost a forest of Ponderosa Pine. There behind a Ponderosa was the sprawled, lazy form of SkullFace. Lance slowly approached, mostly sure the lazy rabbit would hardly stir. But he wasn’t even five feet away before one ear pricked up, then the rabbit sat up looking alert. Then when he was one foot away, the rabbit bolted. But Lance was a quick draw and a good shot. After the hit, the rabbit jumped three hops then collapsed. 

Lance was glad he completed his hunt so early in the morning. There was much he wanted to do today. Before the Litha festival, he wanted to visit Odin’s temple.  

He approached the earth temple with his back wrap that comfortably supported the limp body of SkullFace. He kissed his hand twice, each time touching it afterwards onto the face of one of the black rabbit statues that stood sentinel to the door of the earth temple. 

Then he entered the tent whose only light was from the small holes in the canvas where sunlight came through. It took a minute for Lance’s eyes to adjust. 

Then, he silently made his way to the altar before the sitting Elder with a sharp ax. The old man had a headdress that held the antlers of a pronghorn deer; those elders held a black veil off his face. Lance laid the rabbit on the altar and backed out of the circle drawn around it. At the edge of the circle he knelt down and put his hands together in supplication. As soon as his hands touched, the Elder brought down the ax to sever the head. 

Without a word, Lance picked up both the body and head and left the tent that was the heart of the earth temple. He made his way to the butcher where the meat would be used for stew and the guts for compost. Or they usually would have, but as was his right as a hunter, Lance claimed the head and guts for himself. He put them in a neat bag and hiked to Odin’s temple. 

There were all sorts of temples on the land, but Lance’s favorite was the one that was furthest away. On the very edge of the property, was Odin’s Temple. It was a platform altar that was also the roof of a treehouse on the top of a tall tree. 

Lance saw Odin’s ravens swarm the temple as they saw Lance approach. They knew they were getting an offering. This was his favorite part of the offering: the climb. As he climbed the ladder to the tree house, Ravens flew around him. They screamed at him for not bringing enough in a very thankful way. 

Standing on top of this roof on this windy day, Lance knew why there was a liability waiver. But he loved it. The rough wind seemed to plant him more firmly on the roof. He scattered the guts on the roof, then threw the head as far as he could.

Legend had it, if a raven caught the head, that meant Odin would grant you a wish… ‘I want to be living my best life…’ Lance thought as he threw the head. It was caught mid-air at noon on MidSummer.                  

Jackalope Ranch

 Lance Williams described himself the same way others described him his whole life: white-trash, redneck, worthless, drug addict, hedonist. He’d been born into it. The first time he tried meth he was five years old. His drug addict mother threw him out into the snow of a Colorado January after he’d refused the pipe. Barefoot; naked except for just a light tee shirt, he’d helplessly pounded on the doors and windows of their isolated, rural trailer. “OK! OK! Please let me back in!” Kids are resilient, and it was a miracle he didn’t catch frostbite after how long she left him out there. But no one is indestructible, and the wear on his young body from the rat poison, battery acid mix of a poor person’s cocaine took its toll. Since then he’d hardly gone over a month without at least a puff or two. His desires and actions seemed forever out of sync. His mind felt like the grinding of metal on metal where there’s a missing pad. 

It was a month away from his 18th birthday, and he somehow looked both much older and much younger than his age. He was only just 5’1’’ and 100 lb. He might have been attractive, if his gaunt, sunken eyes weren’t forever on the edge of terror. People to him, were just hungry beasts waiting for any excuse to kill whatever got in the way of their pleasure. 

He still lived in the same trailer in the plains of Eastern Colorado. “Home-schooled” is what his mother had told the government that was usually too busy with smearing the opposition to actually do any governing at all. Somehow, he’d taught himself to read in the times his mother had abandoned him there for weeks or months at a time. He enjoyed the solitude of those times, at least whenever she actually left enough canned beans and ramen for him to eat at least once a day. Those were the good times: no making drug runs right in front of police who never thought to search a child’s backpack; no handsy boyfriends of his mother who were only heterosexual until his mother passed out.

Thankfully, he was an only child. At times he could barely scavenge enough to feed himself, or barely find the space to hide himself from the dangerous people his mother called friends. Now, he was planning the escape that hopefully would be his last one. He didn’t think he could survive one more beating from his mother, or her drug dealer, or her pimp. 

After a particularly heavy bender, she passed out into what he knew would be at least a 12 hour sleep and probably closer to a 20 hour. So, he stole the little money she thought was hidden and hiked the 5 miles to the bus stop. The streets of Denver would be a hell of a lot easier than living with people who only knew how to exploit and abuse. 

He arrived there mid April. The weather was warming and being homeless in the summer was nothing compared to being homeless in the winter. He’d still sleep most of the day and keep moving most of the night. But there was a difference between comfortably scavenging and running just so you wouldn’t freeze. 

His first hot meal at Denver Rescue Mission was both where he heard about Jackalope Ranch and where he first met Keith.

“Will you be going to the Beltane celebration down on Jackalope?” An old woman asked an old man who was eating on the table next to where Lance ate.

“Fuck no! No amount of free food and booze would get me down to that commune of faggots!”

“Do they allow booze there?”

“I don’t know what they allow besides men acting like fairies. It’s not right and it’s not natural!”

“What has acting naturally ever gotten us besides debt and poverty?!”

It seemed it was a place the woman wanted to go, but somehow her partner thought whatever free accommodations that were there were not worth facing blatant faggotry. The only gay activity Lance had had was always hidden with abusive and violent secrecy. He didn’t know what he was, but he knew he wasn’t straight. A strange jealousy overtook him when he saw fancy gay couples walking their fancy gay dogs in the streets of Denver; it was their love that he wanted a lot more than their wealth.

Leaving the homeless shelter, he searched the crowd for the gayest looking man, and saw a middle aged man holding an ancient looking Chihuahua; the dog had a rainbow bandana tied around its neck.

“Excuse me, sir” Lance said in a timid voice. 

“Yaassssss?”

He seemed a bit crazy but harmless enough. So Lance continued, “I was wondering if you knew anything about Jackalope Ranch?..”

“Jackalope?! Are you going there for Beltane? Do you need a ride?”

He was taken aback. He’d go almost anywhere if the ride was free but he also wanted to know what would be expected of him after he got there. Cautiously, he continued, “I was thinking I might go there. But just wanted to know if everything there was free or what it would cost a person like me who’s broke.”

“My dear boy! You come with me! Everything will be free once you get there and I’ll take care of you until you arrive. How old are you?”

“I’m 18” Lance lied.

“Everything really would be free for you both for the festival and for after that; assuming you’ve got a cock! I’m a trans man so I’m only allowed there during the festivals.”

Again Lance was shocked. Everything about this man screamed MAN, right down to the thick brown beard. They fell into step walking together back to Keith’s apartment. Keith wasn’t much taller than Lance but he was much heavier - somewhere between chubby and fat.

“Jackalope Ranch was the first of its kind,” Keith explained. “It’s an open surveillance animal farm that advocates every animal farm should be open surveillance - cameras everywhere where anyone can watch online for free. How Jackalope does it is anyone can watch for free but you’ve got to subscribe for audio. Then they throw sober music festivals 8 times a year to celebrate the wheel of the year. This next one will be April 30th to May 2nd to celebrate Beltane; technically it’s sunrise April 30th to sunset May 2nd. There’s live music on May 1st from noon to midnight then they allow people all the next day to pack up and leave.”    

“Why do you say I’ll be able to stay for free because I have a cock?”

“Only the festivals are any-gender-allowed. Besides that it’s only a space for cis men, their rabbit proof greenhouses, and the rabbits that roam free everywhere between them. They do a lot of digital marketing for anyone who wants to buy a pet rabbit online, then they turn the excess rabbits into rabbit stew that they also sell online. Most of the permanent residents there are vegetarian or even vegan besides just eating that stew. I keep asking if I can stay and keep getting, ‘your hormonal medicine is not part of the group medication’! It’s a beautiful sober space for sober men but they’re also a bunch of self-righteous cunts who think raw-dogging reality makes them entitled to transphobia.”

“Why do you go then?” Lance was on edge and suddenly didn’t know if it was safe to go anywhere with Keith.

Keith’s anger passed and he relaxed into a toothy grin, “Most gay men aren’t sober and there’s not a better free music festival in the world. And there’s hardly any sober music festivals!”

Sober… it had barely been two weeks that Lance was sober and he didn’t even dare to hope it was the first two weeks of the rest of his life. Everywhere in his life was conditional help and usually the conditions included drug use.              

“Here we are!” Keith said as they arrived at an old apartment building. “It’s just a one bedroom but I do have a couch you can sleep on.”

Over the next few days, Lance grew to really like Keith and his old dog, Buster. They shared some really good meals and Lance got used to sleeping at night on the comfortable couch. Sometimes he’d still wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, but the small, cozy apartment was just as it had been: safe and warm. Keith was very strange and moody but not at all creepy or touchy. It was great to be able to talk to someone without fear that their hands didn’t respect boundaries.

The evening of April 29th Keith told him he had a surprise for him. “Now, soon you’ll see where this is made but before we leave tonight around midnight… Let’s have some potato-rabbit stew!” He pulled out a large glass jar out the cabinet that had an interesting label with the head of a Jackalope - a rabbit with the horns of a pronghorn deer. “Put that in a pot and stir slowly as it heats. I’ll slice up some of the bread I made yesterday.”

They sat down to dinner and Lance had never in all his life had a better stew. Thick, creamy potato broth that had large chunks of rabbit, leeks, celery, and scallions; it was somehow seasoned with everything it should be seasoned with. “Oh my god… this is good.” The fresh bread was the perfect side. 

“Isn’t it?! They make several different types of stew but the potato base is my favorite!”

Just after dinner they went to visit a neighbor who cared for Buster while Keith was away. Then Keith took a short nap while Lance stayed up just cleaning and pacing. He was too excited to sleep.

They left just after midnight that night in Keith’s old, blue Tacoma. The truck bed piled high with everything they’d need, including an extra tent for Lance to have his own. It was a 9 hour drive to the Zuni mountains of New Mexico and Keith wanted to arrive just after daybreak. 

As they rode south to Albuquerque then West into the mountains, the scenery got more and more majestic. There were great plateaus and dusty sage brush scattered between red-orange dirt. As they climbed into the Zuni mountains, there were forests of Ponderosa pines, mixed with Junipers and Pinyons.

Just coming down the mountains on the west side, the trees grew more sparse and they came to the signs pointing to Jackalope Ranch. Soon, they came to a tall fence that stretched out of sight in both directions and had the same strange crest as the jar on the gate. The gate and fence came out about 20 yards before a second gate opened to the property.

“Why’s there two gates?” Lance asked

“To keep the rabbits from escaping every time the gate is opened.” Keith replied. 

“Where are the rabbits?”

“Oh, they’re all over but they usually stay close to where they’re fed. It’s about a 3500 acre property.”

“How many rabbits are there?!” Lance was getting excited. 

“Let’s ask Karl. Looks like he’s working the gate today.. Hello! Karl!”

“Welcome back, Keith!” Said a handsome man with a friendly smile. “Who’s this you’ve got with you?”

“This is my friend Lance. He wants to know how many rabbits you keep here.”

“Welcome Lance. It’s usually about two million, but it depends on the day. Are you 18 or older?”

“Yes, sir. I’m 18.” Lance felt bad for lying but there was no going back now. It would be true in less than three weeks!

“Perfect. Just sign this liability waiver,” Karl passed him a paper on a clipboard. “It basically says you accept responsibility for your own safety.”

“Could I not do that if I was 17?” Lance meant it to come off as a joke but Karl was not amused. 

“Not according to the state of New Mexico you couldn’t.” But his seriousness passed and he smiled again when Lance handed him back the signed paper. 

“What should I sign?” Keith teased

“Oh, we’ve got all your signatures on file, Keith!”

“When are you going to let me stay here as a resident?!”

“Come on Keith, if it was up to me I would, but it’s not my decision.”

“Yea, yea, yea! Alright, see you inside.” They drove into the enclosure. The first gate closed behind them, and the second one opened for them to drive on through. 

They drove slowly as they got closer to the compound. The closer they got, the more rabbits appeared. They were huge! Almost twice as big as Buster. Most ran out of the way of the car but some had to be honked at before they slowly walked to the side. They pulled into the parking lot that was already beginning to fill.  

People of almost all ages, shapes, sizes, and colors were pulling camping equipment out of vehicles and beginning to hike to find a camp spot. It was amazing what people showed up in the middle of nowhere when the only requirements were to find your own ride and bring your own tent.

“The most important rule,” Keith said, “is no violence on the land.” They slowly pulled into a parking spot. “Now, it’s not violent to assume someone’s gender, but it is violent to intentionally misgender a person after they’ve corrected you.” They parked and got out to get the tents that were neatly packed in last to be pulled first. The slightly older, shabbier tent that Keith was lending to Lance was still one of the best tents he’d ever seen. It would be different, to camp so intentionally where people actually wanted him to camp. 

“This way to some good spots! Unless you want some time apart and find a spot away from me?..”

“Oh, we’ll have enough time apart I’m sure! I’d still like to camp next to your campsite if that’s ok,” Lance replied with a smile. 

“You’re welcome to, of course. I’ll mainly be hanging out but possibly might be cruising for sex! Haha, don’t come a’knockin if the tent’s a’rockin! Ha, it sometimes seems these festivals are just bi cis men hooking up with bi cis women, but there’s sometimes I meet people here more interesting than that.”

They walked the trail to the campsites and walked between some really beautiful buildings. There were 3 or 4 story greenhouses that Keith told Lance sometimes went just as deep or deeper underground as they were tall. An absolutely beautiful public kitchen had a large cistern next to it that two different wells pumped water into. There was a bathouse with many outdoor showers on the outside of a building that also had indoor showers, saunas, and a large indoor pool. And then many one-room tiny homes that were the private residents of the long term residents. 

After they set up their tents and got most of their things to the campsite, “Go!” Keith said to Lance with a shooing motion that was gruff but kind, “Go and explore! I know you want to.”

He thanked Keith another time for the ride, then pretty much ran to the pool. The only primitive thing about the place were the long drop outhouses that were everywhere just close enough to be convenient but not too close to anything. Besides that there were solar panels on every roof and electrical outlets outside every public building. The greenhouses had walls of tempered glass; some had glass roofs; others had solar panel roofs and the glow of UV lights from within.

The pool was under a rainbow of stained glass that featured allsorts of ocean and merfolk murals. It was only after he got there that he remembered he had no swimsuit and no towel. That’s when he bumped into a tall, well-hung black man in his early 20’s. Lance knew the man was well-hung because the man was gloriously naked.

“Oh! Excuse me!” Lance was trying not to stare and the largest penis he’d ever seen in real life.

“Oh that’s! OK.” He reached out a hand for a handshake. “I’m Dallas. What’s your name?”

“Lance” Rabbits playfully hopped around their feet, but Lance couldn’t move. He felt like a rabbit in headlights.

“You coming for a swim? You know it’s clothing-optional, right?”

Lance left his shabby clothes in one of the lockers and had an amazing swim with Dallas and Dallas’ friends. All of them were naked, inviting, and kind. For the first time in his life he wasn’t insecure about either his looks or his poverty. It felt great to be with people who actually saw him as a person and not just something to use or someone to step over. 

It was a beautifully warm day and they all went for a walk after. Dallas pointed out large metal eagles and owls in the trees that were both cameras and scarecrows for the real birds of prey. There was also the occasional robot rabbit that hopped among the real rabbits. The online viewer had all different sorts of packages they could purchase; the most expensive included the mobility and private camera of a robot rabbit.

Lance couldn’t be bothered with the cameras at all. He didn’t care at all who looked so long as he got a say in who touched; he’d always been that way. He didn’t feel like he was much to look at and wasn’t really listening when Dallas was explaining the different payment packages for the performers of sex shows. His tent and the outhouses were private, and that was good enough for him. 

That evening before the evening meal, everyone on the land had a wonderful heart circle where everyone held hands in a circle as each person introduced their name and pronouns. The occasional person followed their name with, “He, She, They” and that’s what Lance did too when it was his turn. He definitely was a “He” but also definitely didn’t want to be just a “He.” All day long he’d been wondering if it would be physically possible to bottom for Dallas or if the mechanics of it might actually wreck him. 

Turns out he set up his tent for nothing. He ended up sleeping dormitory style in one of the old greenhouses that had been converted to a dormitory for prospective residents. A person needed either all five Elder’s approval or the approval of at least 97% of residents to join. There wasn’t a man wearing the crest who Lance didn’t absolutely adore; already he was seeing himself being an active part of this community that was actively thankful for his help.  

He was up at dawn the next day and went straight to kitchen duty meal prep, then to helping serve the disabled, then to helping with the clean up after. He wanted to go straight from kitchen duty to helping direct traffic of people still arriving, but the Kitchen Top told the Traffic Top to bugger off, “I’m reserving him to help with dinner tonight, and part of the deal is I want him to relax and enjoy himself until then!” 

He explored every single greenhouse, and talked with every single greenhouse guard who kept the people moving through and kept the rabbits out. People were responsible for their own lunches, and it really touched Lance how many were willing to share with him. But of course, he went back to the campsite to have lunch with Keith. 

He got there to find Keith had already laid out a spread he was sharing with an older gay couple and another middle aged man. “Hey! How’s it goin?!”

“Good thanks,” Lance said as he sat down.

“I saw you’re already sleeping in a new residents dorm! Good for you! Do you mind if George here takes your tent,” Keith said, gesturing to the middle aged man, “Of course, he’s unprepared as always.” 

“Don’t shame me for living in the moment!” George said, gruffed, but not offended. 

“Then don’t be a burden for those who can do that and can plan!” Keith responded, equally gruff. Then both laughed, and George thanked Keith and Lance for the tent. 

They’d hardly finished lunch when the first band took the stage. Lance said hurried goodbyes and ran to the front row of the outdoor amphitheater that was between the kitchen and a row of greenhouses. The first band was bluegrass country and Lance danced like no one was watching. The country was followed by jazz that made way to pop that made way to punk. Lance tore himself away from the dancefloor to help with dinner prep; to be back to work right when he said he would. There was a rice-base stew, and a rabbit curry, and fluffy rice, and fresh salad, and fruit salad. All of it was served buffet style at the back of the kitchen. Along with all sorts of tea and lemonades.  

As Lance helped finish up dishes, a large blond man came to drop off a dish much too late to be washed in the after dinner cycle. Lance noticed immediately that the man was holding a bible like he was holding a weapon.

“Are you enjoying the show?” Lance asked suspiciously. 

“It’s OK, but it’s not what I’m here for.”

“What’re you here for?”

“I’m here to save souls. I’m a warrior of God.”

There went Lance’s good time. Instead of going back to show he now felt obligated to keep a personal watch on this fucking creep. Lance rarely knew what he was feeling, but he knew better than most what others were feeling. Keith’s anger came in flashes, similar to his mother’s, but didn’t last as long and always without any of her malicious spite. This blond guy didn’t seem angry at all but seemed to be nothing but cold, hard, malicious spite.  

So Lance kept his distance; pretended to be busy with other things, but always kept watch on the blond stranger. The man mostly just sat at the very back of the outdoor amphitheater and read his bible by the light of an electric lantern. But he didn’t get up and disperse like most did shortly after midnight when the show ended. It was 2am and the creep was still reading his fucking bible. Lance kept a discreet watch, sitting just inside the kitchen in an area that had a window view of the man.

About a quarter after 2, the man got up and made his way to the camp grounds. Lance followed, stealthy as a shadow. Always behind a tree that was just off trail and just out of sight. The man rummaged around in what appeared to be his tent, then made his way back to the kitchen building. Lance followed and picked up a throwing size rock and a bat sized stick along the way. The stranger didn’t go to the kitchen entrance but made his way to the cistern that was behind the building. He got on a step ladder and began undoing the top cap. That was enough for Lance. Whatever he was going to put in the drinking water probably wasn’t a Bible but probably was something hateful he thought the book justified. 

“Hey! Get down from there!” Lance stepped into the light of one of the fairy lights that marked a trail. The man just tried to take off the cap faster and that was it. Lance threw the rock at the man's head and hit the mark. 

“Hey! What the Gosh Darn Heck!” He got off the step ladder and began to walk towards Lance. The man was much bigger, but Lance was much meaner. Lance ran towards him, stick-bat in both hands. Before the brute knew what hit him, Lance landed a powerful hit on the man’s knee cap that sent the leg bending the wrong way with a loud CRACK.

“YEEEEEHEEEEEEEHHHHHHH!!” The man screamed bloody murder and lots of lights came on and there was the sound of feet rushing towards him.

The blond stranger was flailing on the ground and a large plastic bottle came out of his jacket pocket. 

“What the hell is going on here?” demanded an old man wearing a headband with pronghorn antlers to indicate he was an Elder. 

“He was trying to empty that bottle into the cistern!” Lance pointed the stick that he still held like a weapon at the bottle.

“LEVITICUS 18:22! WHAT YOURE DOING HERE IS AN ABOMINATION!!” The man cried from the ground, but didn’t try to hide the bottle.

The Elder picked up the bottle and read the label, “Arsenic!.. Fuck you and your false god if you think love is more of an abomination than murdering an entire community! Karl! Jonathan! Tie up this man and contact the police. Tell them to bring an ambulance.” 

This community really did have everything. Lance watched Karl cuff the man, put him on a stretcher, and lift him with his partner to take him to a detention facility to wait for the police to pick him up. Most of the crowd that gathered followed the stretcher with the criminal, but some stayed behind, including Lance and the Elder.

Now that the danger was over, all of Lance’s strength left him. He threw down the stick and started to cry. Pretty much the only rule besides sobriety was “no violence on the land,” and Lance had broken it on his second night.

“It’s ok.. It’s ok..” the Elder put a comforting arm around Lance’s shoulders, “you definitely saved some lives tonight and might have just saved us all.”

Lance kept crying as he hugged the comforting old man. Then he pulled back and unburdened himself further, “I’m not 18!.. I lied and I’m sorry! I’m only 18 in another 15 days!” He sobbed more violently than ever.

The old man had a long white beard and long, thick white hair that was braided to support the headdress that had a crown of antlers and elaborate glass beads hanging from it. His eyes were nothing but compassion and kindness. 

“It’s ok.. You had a shock, but you’re still a hero here. And two weeks! Two weeks is nothing! It would take foster care longer than that to even think about filing paperwork. We just have to keep you clothed and off camera until then. A tiny home just became empty and I’m saying it’s yours at least until your birthday,” the Elder wiped tears off Lance’s face, “we have to wait until the next festival to vote, but I’m thinking it could very well be yours for as long as you want it.”