Four punks and their slave travel a wasteland full of mutants, slavers, raiders and freaks.
*** 1 Trash Punk World ***
A mutant rose from between the ruined walls – ugly, grotesque and giant. Not an unusual sight in the desert, but Fucker was caught off guard anyway.
The lean muscled boy had been too busy getting the sand out of his rusty phaser's ionization core. He slapped the lid back onto his weapon and glanced around the area.
Luckily, Fucker hadn't taken off any clothes in the heat. He still wore the sneakers and the shreds of his loin cloth that barely kept his dick from falling out.
If he grabbed his bag and ran...
A drop of sweat dripped down from his lime green mohawk into one of his dark eyes.
Then the mutant charged. Fucker aimed with one hand holding the other steady and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. He must have missed some of the sand in the ion chamber.
The mutant landed a hit with his fist-like stump. Fucker flew across the remains of the ruined room he had been resting in. Black dots swam in his vision across the bright blue sky, but he heard the buzzing of his skin armor. Fucker had been one of the lucky boys to get a working implant.
His skin armor had prevented any damage but it couldn't do anything about pure force. Fucker dropped to the ground on the other side and tried to get his lungs to respond through the pain.
He'd have to bail now and come back for his luggage later.
A figure of thick muscle rushed in from the side and slammed into the mutant.
Despite being only the typical height of a teen boy, Savage toppled the abomination with ease.
Other than most people, the hair loss caused by the retro virus wasn't confined to Savage's body, leaving him completely hairless, including face and head.
It fit him well, though, adding to the boy's aura of danger. He was a so called freak – a lucky kid not turned into a monster by his mutation. The same effect that gave him superhuman strength made his eyes completely black.
When Savage was beating the mutant's face to a pulp, Fucker was once again glad to be on the same team as the fully nude brute.
Once the mutant had long stopped moving, Savage turned his rectangular face to Fucker with a dumb grin. The huge nose ring made it look even sillier on the brutish boy.
"Yo, boss."
"Yo, Savage. Looks like you lost your pouch."
The muscle boy looked down on his semi hard dick. "Oops. Guess Pyro has it."
"Yeah," Fucker said. He reopened his phaser's cover and looked for more sand. Fucking sand got into everything. "Where is Pyro anyway?"
"Yo, right here," Pyro said and stepped through the ruined doorway into the square enclosure. The thin twink was also a freak, but had no external features giving it away. His hair had been turned appropriately fire red by the retro virus and he had let his mohawk grow so long it hung as a loose braid to his ass crack.
Pyro wore sneakers and a white thong, pulled up high to emphasize his popping abs. He carried his own backpack and a black sock-like pouch which he handed over to Savage.
While the brute covered his dick and balls with the item, Pyro emptied his bag.
Eight tin cans were in his possession. "Yo, I found a whole stash. That vault is a goldmine. Canned fruit. I think it's still good."
"Hand it over," Fucker said and received a can. He knew he had a can opener somewhere in his bag.
"This one's meat, I think," Pyro said.
"Fuck yes," said Savage. "Gimmi."
The brute didn't wait and tore the can from Pyro's hands. Then he split the metal by pure force.
"Um," Pyro made. "I think it needs to be cooked."
"Well fucking cook it then."
Pyro chuckled even as he rolled his eyes. He took the open can and held it above his right hand. After a second, his freak power responded and a flame appeared under the can.
While Fucker ate his own meal, Pyro finished prepping Savage's. Then Pyro pulled down his thong and jerked off. The fire conjurer had probably already enjoyed one of the rations he had found.
"Yo, Pyro," Fucker said.
"Yeah boss?"
"Care for dessert?"
"Sure," Pyro said and moved in. Fucker helpfully pulled his dick out and let Pyro do the rest. The boy gave great blow jobs if you were into noise. Because, fuck, did Pyro like to make himself choke.
Savage didn't ask if he could join. Why would he need to? They were friends.
The muscle boy got rid of the just regained pouch and spit on his dick. Savage's freak nature let his veins pop from his skin in an unreal way and his dick was no exception.
He shoved his tool into Pyro's ass, just past the thong. (He had torn a few thongs before Pyro refused to get fucked unless Savage vowed to be more careful.)
Fucker had to admit, those peaches were almost as good as cumming. Certainly better than standard protein bar number 5.
The desert seemed to go on forever, which was a feature of every strip of desert Fucker had seen in his sixteen years.
Night had fallen and so the temperature had gone down from hellish to still hot but okay. The three boys marched along the familiar path, glistening from sweat just a bit.
Not that there was any actual path – just sand. But once you knew the lay of the land you knew where to... unless...
"Fuck no," Fucker said. "I think we got lost."
"Huh?" Pyro made. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, have you ever seen those buildings before?"
Fucker pointed at a collection of a dozen metal huts. There was no fence around it and no guard towers up so it must have been abandoned long ago. They wouldn't even find rations in there.
"Do we keep going north?" Fucker asked. "Or rest there through the day and see if anything's left?"
"Your call. You're boss."
"Yo, stop saying that every time you're too lazy to make a judgement call."
"Guys?" Savage said and stepped between them. "Is that light?"
Somewhere in the settlement was a small fire burning. Maybe someone in there was interested in trading. They still had some peaches. Or maybe those were raiders. Unlikely but possible.
"I'll have a look," Fucker said. "Savage you stay out of sight in case we need backup. Pyro, come on."
The two boys – green mohawk and loin cloth, red braid and thong – wandered down the dirt path between the huts and tried to be obvious. If you gave people the feeling you were sneaking, they tended to react badly.
"Yo, anyone here?"
No response.
The duo made it to a bonfire in a barrel. There was one boy sitting on the ground, looking at them silently.
His mohawk was purple, which was unusual despite the retro virus messing with everyone's hair. He wore no shoes but had a chain connecting his nipple rings. The kid wore a jock strap and a collar.
Wait...
"Fucker?" Pyro whispered. "Is that a slave collar?"
"Think so? But where's the owner. Um... Hey slave, where is?"
Pyro was torn to the side. A human figure had reached out of the shadows and pulled him into a corner. The rusty blade of a knife flashed in the fire's light, held up to Pyro's throat.
Luckily, Fucker's reflexes had kicked in and his (now working) phaser was already aimed at the shadows. He just couldn't spot anyone in the dark.
"Yo, we're trash punks," Fucker said. "Just here to trade. Put the knife down and we'll leave."
"How can I know you'll go?" asked the shadow, "and not just shoot me to be sure? Why shouldn't I take care of you?"
This guy meant business. Fucker felt sorry for the slave but better those two than Pyro. He fired.
The bright red ray blinded everyone who hadn't shut his eyes. Fucker had shut his and when he opened them again, the shadow was gone. Not shot. Gone.
Something stepped out from behind Fucker and wrapped an arm around his chest. The knife poked his neck. Skin armor wouldn't help him much here. It was only meant to disperse the force of punches.
He could only hope he was quicker on the draw. Fucker shot next to his head. The knife was gone, but no dead body dropped. Instead the unknown person was now behind Pyro again. It was only a matter of time before the shadow lost his patience and got stabby.
Right, the shadow...
"Pyro. Make it shine."
The freak reacted to the request and let the bonfire shot up high, way past the barrel rim into the night sky. With flames already present he didn't have to spend any time growing his own.
It illuminated the face of a cute, dark boy in a thong. The fabric's blue would have matched his mohawk if it hadn't been so dirty. He had nipple rings like his slave, but no chain between them.
The boy panicked and threw himself to the side. He tried to retreat into the shadows as expected.
Fucker shot once at the boy's feet to make him change course. The shadow kid slithered across the sand and ran to the other side – right into Savage's open arms. The knife was long dropped.
"Listen here," Fucker said to the squirming boy, "you'Re a trash punk, to, aren't ya? We gotta stick together. Right?"
The unknown boy made a pretense of calming down and Savage loosened his grip.
"Great," Fucker said. "Now let's try again. We're traders. Do you have anything you'd be willing to trade for peaches in a can?"
"What?" the kid said. "You almost killed me and I almost killed you over peaches?"
"Guess you don't know how good they are."
It wasn't too funny but everyone burst out laughing. Nothing better to dissolve tension from lethal danger than a good joke. Or any kind of joke.
Fucker, Pyro and Savage had introduced themselves to the boy named Hardass.
When they had explained that it was a bad idea to keep a visible fire burning at night, Hardass had demonstrated his freak power. He could blend into shadow so well, he basically vanished. When he moved from one end of a shadow to the other, it looked like teleportation.
Hardass considered himself unbeatable at night. Unless, of course, he ran right into the embrace of a muscle freak.
"...and now," Fucker finished their tale, "we're on the way from arcology 3 to Rocket City again."
"Kay," Hardass said. "I'm just getting by, but I have friends in Rocket City. Could pay them a visit."
"You want to come with us?" Fucker said. Then he turned to the side. "Could you two keep it down?"
Savage was fucking the slave with shouting grunts. The slapping of hip on hip was loud enough already. The slave wore a jock strap for easy access and was presumably used to getting fucked hard, but Savage was unrivaled in rearranging boys' insides.
Once Fucker saw it was hopeless to expect volume control from Savage, he turned back to Hardass. "What about the slave?"
"Oh, I named him Pisspig. Only had him for a year. Some guy stole my bottle caps so I wanted revenge. Then I got my hands on a slave collar and linked it to me."
"Makes sense. Would be pissed, too, if someone took my money. He's the thief?"
"Nah, the guy who stole my caps was well armed. Pisspig is his son, who I ran into by coincidence. Though, I think Pisspig's older than me. Not sure. Oh, you should totally make him drink your piss whenever you gotta go. He hates it. Hehe."
Fucker and Pyro chuckled along. As the gang leader, it was Fucker's responsibility to make a mental note never to let Pisspig get too far away from Hardass unless they wanted to watch the slave get alternately choked and shocked by his collar until the battery ran out in twenty years or so.
Plus, having a slave to carry one's backpacks was highly useful.
With Savage and Hardass, their backup was considerably more potent. Otherwise Fucker and Pyro would not have dared descend into a vault not marked as safe at the entrance.
Anyone and anything could be inside. Alpha team (Fucker, Pyro, Pisspig) looked into every nook and cranny. Beta team (Savage, Hardass) trailed behind, staying absolutely quiet.
There wasn't much, but Pisspig's bag had already been loaded with two medkits, a few books, four pairs of boots and some hygiene supplies.
Pyro held up a flame over his right palm to enlighten the underground area. "This is the living quarters. They probably took everything when they left. Should we even look?"
"If every trash punk thought like you, then there'd be tons left everywhere. Look inside."
Pisspig stayed in the corridor. The purple haired boy with the nipple chain hadn't said much. He had grumbled a bit when they had pissed in his mouth but for the most part he didn't actually seem to mind being part of the group. Going by how often he had tried to get Savage to fuck him today, he probably had found something to like about his new friends already.
The living quarters were indeed empty, but Pyro didn't gloat. They moved onto the kitchen area.
"Yo," Pisspig said. "Under here."
"Fuck yeah," Pyro said as they moved the plastic plane aside to reveal a chest high crate of rations.
It was all standard protein bar number 5. Disappointing, but they filled their bags anyway. You never knew when you'd run out of food out here.
Alpha team returned to the main corridor to find beta team 69ing on the ground.
"Yo, what the fuck?" Fucker said. "You were supposed to cover our backs and stand by in case of... all right, but I expect better next time."
The leader stepped out of his rags and jerked himself hard. Pyro made out with him.
Fucker broke the kiss for a second. "Yo, Pisspig. Don't want to rub one out?"
The slave shrugged and pulled his jock strap down. The poor boy was in a transparent chastity cage. No wonder he liked getting anally stimulated.
"Can't help you there," Fucker said and returned to his tongue battle with Pyro.
After a second's hesitation Pisspig fingered his own hole. He'd probably not get off that way but it would have been awkward for him not to join in at all.
Finally, Savage and Hardass broke apart and called Pisspig over to fuck him into both ends.
Pyro laid down on his back and let Fucker hump him, their dicks between their abs.
Just when Fucker was closing in on orgasm, somebody entered the room. The fully hairless man wore sand camo shorts and sturdy boots.
Fucker didn't stop humping but whistled at the three A-frame-fucking boys to pay attention.
"Yo," the man said. "You trash punks?"
"Depends who's asking?" Fucker said, his voice wavering from the nearing explosion.
The man chuckled. "Gutsy ones, huh? I saw you go inside. You know it's an unmarked vault, right? Someone lived here until recently. You could have been in real trouble."
"We'd have handled it. We got three freaks between us."
The man's eyebrows went up. "Wow. Fuck yeah. You guys interested in a mission?"
"Depends what you're asking," Fucker said. "Wait a second. Hng."
He shot his load onto Pyro, took a deep breath and got up. Poor Pyro would have to finish by himself.
"So," Fucker said. "Talk."
"The people who lived here were taken by mutants. A whole horde of them. We're afraid we're next – the people on my farm, I mean. Maybe you could take a look at that problem. Pretty sure I figured out where they hide. That's why I'm running around out here all on my own."
"Tell me more," Fucker said over the noise of beta team finishing simultaneously into Pisspig.
Tune in next time for punks versus mutants.