The Future is F*cked Pt. 01

PROLOGUE-

'There she is! Nab her!' The gruff shout rang out, and the terrified young Telela shoved her head down and ran as fast as she could. The electrifying sound of the ultra-fine buzz cord on the disabler guns the men carried rang loud and clear in her ears, and before she could suck in the gasp she was going to breathe she heard the electric pop as the canister accelerated through the guide and bolted across the street, cracking with a sharp bang on the concrete wall of the building beside her, the arc of the static-charged round zipping by her back so close she could feel it on the small of her back beneath the badly fitting white top she was wearing.

The old thongs slapped as fast as she could make them along the uneven roadway as Telela sprinted to a turnoff and rounded the corner. The shouts of the men behind her never let up, and although she knew they were faster and stronger for far longer than she was, she knew she had to try. She knew the life she would be resigned to once they caught her - it was her fate, the cruel fate of human nature in a world where plague and hatred and sexism had split their species in half while it killed both from the inside, a world where men had ruled, and then women had taken over, and in the process overdone it, driving a cruel stake of hatred into those that had never wronged them. When the outbreak started wiping everyone out, the strong either banded together or fought viciously. Those left out were forgotten, and they too fought, just for food and shelter and protection as Telela did every day.

Telela burst through a rotten doorway and vaulted an overturned desk. Beside her arm, another black canister smashed into the decaying wood, cracking it, the tiny window into the contents inside glowing that dark, evil, ugly little purple and green. Telela jolted away and ran out the back door, twisting down a rubbish-strewn alley, violently yanking old waste bins and piles of trash into the pathway behind her in a desperate effort to block her pursuers. I will not end up in a birthing centre today, you fuckers, she thought to herself as she sprinted.

Chest heaving, her armpits and bosom slick with sweat and her already ripped pants torn some more, Telela bolted out of the alleyway and across the street to where she knew safety would lay for her -

- A moment before, three black-clad men shouted her down, two cylindrical darts cracking off the bare wall in front of her. They closed quickly in on her, those damned micro-crossbow guns aimed directly at her, the arms taut back in curving arcs around their sides, the dark and empty barrel ready to spit forth the damned canisters that would end everything for her. Swearing profusely at them as they approached, cornering her against the wall, Telela had no choice but to raise her hands and back down, falling to her knees as the wall blocked her retreat from those damn guns.

'A young one. Fantastic, the High Council will thank us for finding her.'

'I wonder what she was doing out here?'

'Who cares, she's worth a weeks' worth of antidotes for the three of us. Shut up and put her down.'

'Fine, I was just asking.'

'Why don't you ask her yourself?'

'I just might-'

'Fuck you, cunts, you motherfuckers,' Telela burst out, cutting them off and spitting the insults at them, her teeth showing underneath a dark frown. She was still panting from the run, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins made it all the worse. Her anger at being caught, at being beaten by men, at failing to bring home supplies, and at their, their... Humanity, talking about her capture as if she were a prize, as if it were payment, as if... 'Fuck your mothers and your fathers and fuck you, I'd rather die than let you have me, I'd rather cut my own cunt off than go near you, I would fucking kill the lot of y-'

The dart slapped meatily into the flesh of Telela's chest, right above the left breast. She looked up in time to see the second gun-bow jolt in the man's hand, but even in the short time it took for the gun to fire and the bolt to slam into her, this time into her arm, she was already fading. Rapidly, she felt her muscles shut down, and a second later, the wet asphalt rushed up to her face and settled itself on her cheek, where it clung tight to her skin as her body shut down, and, a moment later, her mind with it.

When Telela woke, she found herself in a warm, comfortable chair. Blinking, her hazy vision cleared to find a tv screen facing her, the brightness low and volume down as an old western from 200 years ago played in grainy old low-res digital video. Her senses returning to her, she heard the soft sound of the tv's audio playing through a comfortable set of open, over-ear headphones. As the wave of returning feeling moved down her body, she felt the chair she was in turn more into a bed, then into something somewhere in-between. Eventually, she realised what it was, and with a jolting, rushing chill realised that the stories the women who had claimed to have seen the inside of those god forsaken birthing centres must have been right. It felt about how she'd expected it to feel.

Clasped around her torso, the 'chair' was actually a full-body rubberised cast of a woman's body, positioned so that to fit in it, the woman would be on her back with her legs bent, up in the air above her. Her arms swung free, her wrists strapped into padded cuffs that dangled off chains attached to the sides of her hips, and the back and leg sections were motorised to allow for controlled movement so that the woman would never get cramped up. Telela was strapped into the cast container with her legs tucked up above her, thighs wide apart, her entire weight supported inside the soft machine.

Feeling the cool air now on her arms and crotch, she imagined that she must be in the perfect position to be entered, her crotch wide open, her body unresisting. A plastic wall through which the cast protruded separated her from her mate, keeping her eyes, ears and arms separate from the other side, while a soft gas mask strapped over her nose and mouth kept a regular and most likely heavily spiked flow of fresh air pumping into her, probably keeping her nice and docile and calm, which, terrifyingly, she felt right now. That terror died almost as quickly as it started inside her, and with a realisation that she became comfortable with far, far too quickly, she suddenly felt calmer, less worried and tense, as if a great weight had finally lifted off her shoulders. Which, she had to tell herself reasonably, it sort of had. All her years of running and hiding, of doing it tough out there, scavenging for food and antidote cells for her and her family, all those were over. In here, she would be fed, watered, and cared for. All as long as she could provide what nature intended. Surely it wasn't so bad?

With a start, Telela felt someone touching her pussy. Two fingers moved over her entrance before parting them, a second before a cool little nozzle slid just inside her upper corner. It squirted a cool, slightly sticky fluid inside her, and then a moment later, a firm member slipped inside. The suddenness of it, combined with the apparently total nonchalance of the whole thing, made her start, a strange unease filling her as the fear and frustrations of her helpless use failed to take hold in her mind, before that too cleared as the gentle sawing action of god's own intercourse began and she relaxed once more, calm clarity restoring itself in her mind within moments as her mind turned to welcoming the sexual invasion.

Some five minutes later, it was done, and she was left, cold and dripping and just a little bit stretched, the emptiness of where that length had been still present inside her, echoed in a muted arousal that sat in her mind and her chest like a trapped fluid. A few minutes later, a cap swung into place over her labia and she felt her own warmth as the access to her body was closed off. Then, with a muted hissing and some clicks from the other side of the parting wall, she felt a set of curving, shaped pries slide inside her, opening her as a scooping rubber brush slipped up into her. It went quite deep, and for a few minutes Telela lost it, only feeling the numbed pangs in her crotch as it moved about. Then, she felt it scooping back down her insides, rubbing all her walls at once, cleaning her out and preparing her for her next visitor. The tool retracted, the arms holding her open slid out, and the cap lifted away, leaving the suspended Telela ready for her next customer.

He promptly stepped up, his cock already firm and free, and Telela felt that sensation of calm, almost blissfulness as he went to work. This wasn't so bad after all.

The new job was growing on her.

PART 1: THE BAD

Sable chewed mutedly, her stale cereal dry and bland without milk. Across from her sat Tulio, her boyfriend, best friend and devout opposition to the Women Are Right (ironically termed WAR for short) regime (and subsequent supporter of WAR falling as a brand new plague cut the population down to single-digit-percentages within weeks.) He didn't eat. She knew he needed to, but he was determined not to be the one to have the last of their meagre rations, and it couldn't go to waste. Despite the pain it caused her to see him sacrificing anything for her, in that silly way pride makes us do, deep down she was thankful. She hadn't eaten well in a week and at least this had proteins and fibres to keep her strong.

Thin, fit and youthful, Sable's tanned white skin and wiry but muscular frame bore the long-stained marks of dirt and grease that were part and parcel of living as refugees from the law in a wasted, forgotten world of broken buildings and abandoned workplaces. She had a straight crop of shoulder blades-long brown-and-blonde hair, roughly platted by Tulio so that it kept itself on her back and out of her face. Several loose strands hung over her clean-cut cute features. Standing a head shorter than her boyfriend, Sable was curvy yet tomboyish. Dressed in a pair of oversized mens black cargo pants stained with mud and dust and an old pair of sneakers, her round bosom stood perky and un-sagging from her chest, two light nubs visible through the tattered grey tank top and tee combo she had on. Despite searching on their outings, Sable hadn't been able to find a bra since her only one had been torn and ruined on some jagged metal, so she wore none - she only wanted to find one to keep her comfortable and contained when they went out scavenging, not through any social requirement.

Tulio for his part was tall, around six feet and with a shock of curly brown-black hair that framed a playful, lightly bearded face, his hair and beard cut with the same shared knife blade as Sable's. He was firmly built, not thin but muscular, with thick legs and a round torso that belied his internal strength. He wore a black Metallica t-shirt with a gash cut through the 't' and the left sleeve was half the length of the right one. His pants were jeans, but were mostly his size, and two linked shoestrings held them up. He wore a pair of mis-matched rubber-soled casual shoes, a preference for quieter sneaking. The badly fitted jeans belied something of a thickness at their front, and much like Sable's clothes were dirty and ragged.

After several minutes of silence, filled only by Sable's mouth as she put new pieces of cereal on her tongue and chewed, Tulio spoke softly.

'I have to go out today.'

'I know.' Sable said, her voice low.

'Sable, I don't want you coming with me.'

'I know.' She repeated, this time with an edge to her voice. She spoke before he finished.

'You can't. Not while they're this strong in the area.'

'You already said all that last night. I get it, alright? I can't come with you because I'm a girl.' Sable bit back, glaring at him.

'It's not that and you know it.'

'Oh, but it is that, isn't it? That's exactly it. That's the entire point here. I have a vagina, and that means my purpose is to be strapped into one of those goddamn things and get pumped full until I pump out a kid, and then rinse and fucking repeat. It is because I'm a girl and you know it, Tulio.' Sable said viciously, her breathing coming faster as the already boiling frustrations began to overflow again. Tulio watched her, his jaw clenched. He waited for her to finish.

When she had, he took a very deliberate breath, and spoke. 'Yes. Yes, it is because you're female. And it's precisely that reason why I can't let you come with me until we know things have blown over, or the road out of here is clear and we can get out. You know that, I know it. I won't risk losing you, Sable.' Sable dropped her head and let out a deep sigh, and Tulio reached for her arm.

'I know it sucks. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to, but it's for the best. C'mon, come here.' Standing from either side of their small half broken kitchen table, Sable let Tulio pull her in, and hold her. She didn't cry, but he knew she wanted to. He made sure not to react to what felt like a warm droplet on his shirt front.

'I'll head out soon, and I'll be back before lunch. If I'm not, you know what to do.'

'I'm not leaving here without you, Tulio-'

'If they come for you, you know where to go. I'll find you there, I promise. Promise me you'll go if you think they've found you?'

'No, I-'

'I said promise me you'll go, Sable.' Tulio said, shaking her gently. He lifted her chin, and she looked at him after a moment.

'I... I promise.' She whispered.

'Good girl.' He held her close, and for a few moments wished they didn't need food - or another supply of the ever-necessary antidote pills - so that they could just leave. He wished the high security quarantine line wasn't a mere three blocks due east of their empty second story apartment building. He wished there weren't vehicles driving the line of that quarantine zone every few minutes. He wished there weren't guards piling out of those vehicles as they arrived from nearby safe zones and towns, replenishing the squads inside the quarantine zone, thickening the search for unconverted survivors until every rock, leaf and sheet had been checked twice over. In that moment he found himself wishing for a lot of things.

~

Dressed now in one of the patrol's set of black clothes, Tulio set out from the apartment block, having climbed down the ruined elevator shaft that was the only way up to their safe haven where his best friend, girlfriend, love of his life and sole reason for surviving these days was holed up. Although he knew she couldn't see him - there was significant rubble from the upper levels in their room, and they had only cleared enough for safe spying on the world outside - he blew her a kiss, before settling into a more prominent stride and quickly turning the corner towards the main street where he knew a cordon would be set up. From a distance, he looked just like any other patrol - black clothes, balaclava and steel cap, all stolen off one unfortunate patrol guard Tulio had attacked for this very purpose some eighteen blocks south a few weeks ago. Up close however, he knew he would fail inspection. All patrols carried dart guns and a radio - Tulio's officer had thrown his gun away when Tulio had attacked him, and when he'd reached for his radio to call for help Tulio had been forced to smash it out of his hand, breaking it.

Nodding casually and waving a finger at a back alley, indicating his intention to disappear there for a moment or two, Tulio struggled to hear the voices of the patrol unit over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He'd hoped his signal had let off his intentions well enough - he figured if he thought hard enough about what he wanted, his body language should reflect it. He'd soon know if one of those armed patrols came to check on whether he really was pissing on some rubble, and put a dart in his back if he wasn't.

Nervous as he was, Tulio actually 'went' where he indicated he would - with the added bonus that if anyone came to check, they'd notice he'd been truthful. Thus relieved, he crept around to the back end of the nearest block, and sprinted towards town, satisfied that the next patrol would be a few blocks behind the first. He tried not to think about how close those patrol units were getting to where Sable was, and instead focussed on his target: the contact he had on the outer gates at the city's main safe house, a primary birthing centre and reconditioning camp for men and as such a major importer of the short term, life-saving antidote drugs that kept the plague in the air, water and dirt from taking deadly effect. With any luck, Dale would be on today. Tulio tried not to think of what he'd do if he wasn't.

~

There was a scream as the small squad of men entered the building. Kicking down the door, their bolt guns were already popping. Two women fell instantly, their bodies paralysed by the drug in the capsules, their wills fading fast as the injected fluid rushed to subdue every thought and emotion. Another girl by the door had time to pick up the plate she was eating from and hurl it in an effort to cause a distraction, but she barely made eight steps before a dart slapped into the back of her leg and she plummeted to the ground, limp. There were two more upstairs, and before long they were under too, knocked out within seconds by the powerful serum inside the darts.

Twenty minutes later the jeep had arrived from the nearest stronghold, and the men were loading the unconscious females up, setting them down on curved, padded holders in the floor of the vehicle. Then, climbing in and sitting on the side seats over the limp women, they rode back to the stronghold. They were checked off at the gates, during which a few of the mysteriously lifted shirts and pants had replaced themselves over loose breasts and unprotected pussies. They turned in their guns, and retired to the barracks, the women left to the prep crews to fit them out for their new purposes in the insemenation centre.

'I could have dicked one of those, god did you see her? Fine looker, she was. All tits and fresh skin, none of the wrinkles and stretch marks of some of the birthing chicks.' One of the men said as they threw their black clothing into a sealable canister, compressing the lid after each had stripped naked and depositing the canister outside the door to their dorm. The sealed canister of clothes would be disinfected before being reused.

'Louie, you'd dick anything with brown hair as long as you had a bush to dig in for the treasure.' Avaro said in reply as the men walked towards the showers, unabashed at their nudity in the public corridors. Men passed them in both directions, some still dressed and heading towards their dorms, others naked and aiming for the showers as Louie and his crew were.

'Yeah maybe, but this one was ripe. What, 20, tops? Fuck, I could barely resist.'

'Well you should have. Fuck it man, prep cleans them all out anyway when they come in and checks that they're fit for use, you could have knocked her up all the way home and she'd still be usable.'

'Yeah but that ain't my way, you know that.'

'Well, your loss.' A third chipped in, scratching himself as they walked into the shower room.

'Oh fuck up Caraman, like you'd know,' Louie returned. 'All you did was start touching that little blonde up like it was prom night in '24, why didn't you get down in her business?'

'Duh, because I was on quarantine last time I brought in a haul, and I didn't get to leave confinement for six weeks. You try not being allowed to get off in a pussy for a month and a half and then tell me if it was worth it just to have your spunk scraped out later anyway.'