Copyright (c) 2015,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, July 06, 2015

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: apocaly8.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com



story_codes: MMM/g(10), bdsm

story_intro: Another stand-alone story: A young girl becomes both companion and a form of payment while traveling with a mercenary scout in a land infested with the walking dead.


story_language: English





Apocalypse Road: Keep on Trucking

Written by madvlad


	The End, when it came, presented some logistical challenges.

	The kid was yakking up a storm, leaning against a filing cabinet and chattering away between sips of some over-priced concoction in a Starbucks cup. Another newbie, and the way he was going on and on, George thought he should maybe switch to decaf. Then the kid paused and took another swig of Guatemalan Western Sunrise java with a teaspoon of wildebeest milk and purple sugar grown on the Ivory Coast - or whatever pretentious shit he was drinking.

	The fact was that the kid did shut up while drinking, so George didn't care if it was decaf or not.

	Just keep putting coffee in your pie hole and keep the words from coming out.

	George shook his head. Someone in Human Resources must have searched hard to get a twit this annoying. The kid had perfect blonde hair and expensive clothes designed to make it look like he was underdressing for the office. Shifting his weight (which had begun accumulating a little more quickly after his fiftieth birthday three years ago), George settled in and focused on his monitor. 

	The kid was supposed to be learning from him but George left it up to the kid. What was his name? Bill? No, Billy? Billy was not a name for an adult to have, unless he was a baseball player or something like that. Bill, Will, William - that was proper. 

	Anyway, Billy would learn or he wouldn't. George's hand hovered over his computer keyboard like a concert pianist about to perform. In a way, George performed a waltz every day. In this shipping hub in Kansas City, it was his job to coordinate the loads coming in and going out. He decided what was to be stored and what was to be routed on another truck. It was part math (load weight and mass), part geography, and a good dose of artistry. 

	George recalled reading about air traffic controllers developing a picture in their heads that was more dynamic and more dimensional than their radar screens. From this picture, they the order of take-offs and landings. Much in the same way, George made shipments of screwdrivers and orange juice dance though this warehouse complex and onto wherever their destination lay ahead. The other nice thing about getting his picture set was that he could tune out just about anything. And when his focus was on, any crisis that might arise became a matter of juggling and reassigning in his calm, deadpan manner.

	"So how far do you think the zombies will spread?" Billy asked.

	A wavy burst of static flew across George's mental picture. Damn, that Billy.

	"Zombies? George asked, only in order to produce a quick answer so he could return to his picture.

	"Yeah, Jesus Christ! The fucking zombies! Didn't you see the Oscars?"

	"Nope. I watch actors in movies. Don't see the sense in watching them get a trophy for doing their damned job."

	"But, shit! It was...it was fucking whacked out. I mean Candace nearly pissed herself."

	"Ratings," George replied. "Had to be about ratings. Better ratings, better ad revenue. Next year, it will be vampires. Don't sweat it."

	Billy may not have been sweating it, but he kept gabbing on about it. But George was in the groove now, making that picture boogie as his coffee-colored fingers (though not the color of Billy's exotic coffee, to be sure) were sending orders for loads as trucks were still backing to the loading bays.

	It was about an hour later when the ruckus started. It was down at Door 19, where George needed three pallets of ball bearings offloaded ASAP to make the Philly-bound truck at Door 43 on time. Normally, the barcode scans would be updating the status as items were removed but nothing was happening although George could year some yelling and cursing on the radio he kept in the charger on his desk.

	Swiveling to his right, he switched a video monitor to show him Door 19. There were no ball bearings coming out of that truck, just some very unhealthy dudes (and a few dudettes). A warehouse foreman was trying to beat off two of them with a clipboard before one of them seized his arm and sank his teeth into it. The unhealthy guy pulled his head back, bringing with him a red spray and some stringy muscles that were rudely pulled from the foreman's arm. 

	The foreman seemed stunned and his lack of motion set the other two on him, pushing him down as others shambled over to join in. George raised an eyebrow.

	"Oh fuck! They're here. Shit! Shit!" Billy howled.

	Billy fumbled with his cell phone and finally punched the quick dial for his girlfriend.

	"Candace?" he yelled, his voice a few octaves higher than normal as he watched the carnage. "You're not going to believe what...uh...oh gross! Shit! Shit!"

	Billy ran off down the hall, trying to collect what passed for his thoughts so he could update his girlfriend on the breaking events. When the door closed behind him, George allowed himself a moment to enjoy the silence. 

	Then he looked at the screen. If there were any ball bearings on the truck, they weren't going to get unloaded any time soon and he could see his whole day breaking up like a cheap jigsaw puzzle. With a heavy sigh, he called his wife.

	"Maxine? Yeah, it's me. Are you still making your meatloaf tonight? Good. Just put it in the fridge after you've had dinner because it looks like I'll be home late."

	George paused, listening patiently to his wife.

	"No, that's okay. I want you to enjoy it while it's fresh out of the oven. Why don't you invite Carmen over to join you? Yeah, yeah, that sounds fine. What? Oh, I don't know when I'll be getting out. For some reason, we got an unscheduled shipment of walking dead in from Baton Rouge and that's going to be playing hell with my routing tables all day."

	
Ten Years Later

	The rig was state-of-the-art with living quarters in the back, bullet-proof windows, RPG-rated armor, electric repulsion disks embedded throughout the body, and a fully advanced fuel power plant in place of the diesel it had sported before Z-Day. Along with hauling cargo trailers, vehicles like this were used for custom jobs like courier assignments with small but vital cargo as well as for scouting and mercenary work.

	A full tank of advanced fuel would give this truck a 20,000 mile range. And it was also quite expensive.

	Kenny knew this as the pump stopped on back pressure, indicating that the tanks were topped off. While securing the nozzle, he threw his co-worker, Deke, a knowing look. They had known the truck's owner, Marshall, for several years now. He did scouting and charting runs, unafraid of venturing into badlands where the hungry dead lurked. While he usually paid full price for fuel before going into the well-defended truck stop for a hot meal and a shower, he had negotiated a discount price today. 

	Back in the time before The End, the truck stop had been located on a remote stretch of highway. Now it was even more isolated but had a regular business from caravans and convoys and the loners like Marshall. While they had decent liquor and booze and some flesh for sale, nothing was what could be called prime. But Kenny and Deke were about to get something to complete Marshall's payment.

	The truck's cab was unlocked but they knew the man would have anything valuable locked and secured. Most of those items were out of sight, but the one they were interested was locked and in plain view.

	At first look in profile, the slight figure suspended by a pair of handcuffs may have been a boy. The dark hair was short and spiky, in stark contrast to the pale skin all over that meant the child never saw much exposure to direct sunlight. Glancing to the rear of the rig where a pile of blankets lay, Kenny figured the kid spent much of her time there. But right now, the handcuffs were anchored to a welded steel eye above the passenger seat. Grinning, Kenny spoke to her.

	"Marshal said your name is Peggy and you're just ten years old."

	Of course, Peggy couldn't respond with the rubber ball gag in her mouth. When Kenny turned the suspended captive to face him, Peggy's blue eyes seemed to spear him. Although he was transfixed for a moment, he moved his gaze downward. Adorning her flat chest was a pair of small metal rings piercing her tiny nipples. Laughing, Kenny tugged on them, drawing a muffled grunt from the girl.

	"You're a kinky little bitch, aren't you?"

	Kenny played with the cruel jewelry a little more, drawing Peggy's nipples out from her chest.

	"Look at you," he giggled. "Now you've got tits. Do you like having titties? Shit, I think you do!"

	Kenny had let go of the rings, letting the child's tortured nipples snap tightly back to her chest. Now the pink centers were erect. After molesting the nips a little more, Kenny slid his hand down her lean belly. As he teasingly approached her vulva, Peggy lowered her head to watch.

	"Oh, now what do we have here?" he chortled.

	Another ring was threaded through the girl's clitoral hood. As Kenny thumbed the nubbin, he determined that the metal didn't just go through the skin like was done most of the time if a woman got pierced there, but through the clit itself. A couple of the truck stop whores had clit hood piercings and had told him that getting the clit itself done would hurt like hell.

	But that was Peggy's problem and not Kenny's as he twisted the ring, Peggy's response was more strident, a keening moan filtered through the gag. While twiddling the youngster's clitty ring with his thumb and index finger, Kenny pushed his middle finger along her hairless slit. Marshall had greased her there in preparation and Kenny jammed his digit into her pussy while cranking on the ring.

	Peggy's muffled, discordant warbles were comical to Kenny but he wanted more than amusement. Pushing his pants off, he got in to the passenger seat and positioned the cuffed girl over his prick. Now he looked directly into her eyes.

	"Hey, Peggy-girl, I'm gonna fuck you now."

	He yanked the child down, spearing his hardness into the bald little cunt and drawing more gagged protests as he entered her. Kenny's movements were wild, humping with his hips and jerking the girl up and down as he slid in and out of her snug, slippery twat hole. Peggy's nipple rings bounced on her boyish chest and the violent motion in her crotch made the third ring further agitate her clitoris. 

	Kenny continued his sweaty copulation with the ten year-old, ramming her immature sex for all he was worth. The freshness of her lithe body demanded reaction and Kenny cursed in appreciation as he dumped a pungent load of semen into his captive little sex mate.

	Peggy hung limply as Kenny pulled her from him and slid from the seat. His semen streamed from her hairless mound, drawing sticky, ragged lines on the smooth insides of her thin thighs.

	When Deke took his place in the seat, he roughly pawed the girl's small buttocks. Grunting in satisfaction, he felt the gel around the small orifice between Peggy's ass cheeks. The look in her eyes signaled her understanding of his intent. 

	"Nothing like a fresh little piece of ass meat," he rumbled as he pulled the girl, facing him, toward his erect member. 

	With a brutal tug, he forced the preteen's asshole onto his engorged prick. Peggy's head jerked back and she howled as her rectum was roughly penetrated. Encouraged by her pained reaction, Deke sodomized the child with powerful strokes, grating through her straining anus and battering the soft tissues inside with his thick, stiff dick. Once he had a rhythm going, he worked his hands upward from her hips to her chest. She was too tight for him to fuck with just his hunching movements, he had to hold her just as Deke had done while reaming her little snatch.

	Sliding his thumbs over her nipples, he ground the rings into her chest, twisting them to further abuse the miniscule pink nibs. Peggy's eyes were glazed, her head rolling as the man pounded inside her little body. Suddenly her blue orbs widened in awareness as Deke came. The man moaned as his balls convulsed almost painfully, each time pumping hot jism with which he polluted the ten year-old's colon.

	When Deke was done, Peggy saw that Kenny was ready again as he stroked himself. This time, Kenny enjoyed the tender, swampy confines of her raped bottom, adding to the sticky mess there. Next, Deke had his way with the little girl's pussy, stretching her young tubing before saturating her still-developing reproductive organs.

	Not long after the pair left, Marshall entered the cab and observed Peggy dangling in her handcuffs. Fresh bruises from the men's grips had created purple satins on her milky skin and her two lower orifices were raw and weeping with cum. Without a word, Marshall uncuffed her and laid down her in the back before he started the engine and hit the road again.

	The town was infested - just as Marshall had heard it was. Driving through the main streets, he took video footage that salvage crews would use to plan their expeditions. It was fairly uneventful and the only thing that broke the monotony was the occasional crunching of walking dead bodies beneath the huge wheels of his rig. Marshal gave it no more thought that the sound of a cockroach getting crushed under his boot. 

	When he was done, he parked in the middle of the street, letting the zombies swarm over the rig. There was no harm in that as they couldn't get in and when it was time to leave, he'd hit them with a charge from the repulsion disks to clear the stubborn ones off.

	"Umm..."

	Marshall turned to his right to see Peggy standing next to him, nude as she usually was. As she watched the dead clawing ineffectively at the windshield, she toyed with the ring in one of her nipples. He could see her tongue dabbing at her lips.
 
	After removing his pants, Marshall shifted over to the passenger seat and Peggy immediately climbed into his lap and lifted her arms. When the cold metal of the cuffs clicked in place over her wrists, she sighed and gave a slight shudder. Marshall understood - the gel he had smeared on her cunny before the two gas jockeys had her had been a ruse. The girl always got wet as soon as she was handcuffed.

	Peggy was facing the creatures at the windshield, displaying her naked body to them as they hungrily sought to have her through the armored glass. Behind and below her, Marshall flicked a switch to raise the specially modified seat vertically. 

	As the zombies stared at the little girl's succulent, hairless twat, her labia spread for his erection. Liquid from the ten year-old's drooling sex dribbled down Marshall's shaft as he gradually entered her. When the seat finally reached its upper stop, Peggy was completely penetrated and the peering dead could see the joining of the man's hard cock and the child's tender snatch.

	Remaining still, Marshall let Peggy do the work, which was just how she liked it. She twisted her body on his dick, her sleek form languidly undulating. When she arched her back with her arms above her, she boldly presented her flat chest with its lewd adornments to the scrabbling hoard at the glass. 

	Three years earlier, Marshall had acquired Peggy in a poker game with the owner of a sex parlor. Peggy had the unfortunate timing of being born just as the world was coming apart from the influx of the newly risen dead. Neither Marshal nor Peggy knew how she had arrived under the ownership of the sex entrepreneur, but by age five, she had begun starring in the zombie shows.

	Some of the living dead could, when properly stimulated, get an erection and even ejaculate. Whatever bizarre spark of life had reanimated them had also given them this ability. One of the popular shows on the sex circuits was to have a woman or a girl riding the stiff, grayish prick of a shackled zombie. 

	Peggy had been a special attraction as patrons flocked to see the tot getting her tiny quim reamed and creamed by one of the "fucking dead". Over time, the girl was also used in a variety of sordid acts that had left her with a taste for hardcore sex with pain as an aphrodisiac. And more than once, the child had cum while adult assistants held her and drove her baby cunt up and down on the stiff pole of zombie dick.

	Back before The End, counselors would have been concerned about the emotional scars of Peggy's past. But in this hard new world, this left Marshall with a very kinky traveling companion. And he had yet to find an act that the girl wasn't eager to try. But her favorite was what they did now, fucking while she was bound with the living dead observing. 

	When Marshall twisted one nipple ring, Peggy let out a loud groan. With his other hand, he molested her clitty, making her sweat and squirm as her tight, ten year-old cunt gripped his cock. Thick, liquidy noises told of how her prepubescent pussy was responding as the man's cock plunged and ground into it on the inside.

	The girl's movements became urgent and she slammed herself on Marshall's turgid prick in rapid, jackhammer motions as her climax drew near. Shuddering, she came and intensified the heat and wetness in her little cunny sheath. Without pausing, she worked her steaming young twat to get her fix again.

	Kenny and Deke never knew that she had cum three times with them. They were too busy with their own pleasure and probably never had a female cum with them (aside from maybe a faked orgasm or two).

	Shortly after Peggy came a second time, Marshall had to release the growing, aching pressure in his balls. The heavy surges coursing through his cock nearly seemed like a second simultaneous orgasm as he injected his sperm into the writhing young girl. 

	"I want to show them," she panted.

	Understanding, Marshall helped her from his penis and then pushed her forward. With her anchored cuffs as a pivot, he swung her toward the windshield until her knees made contact with the dashboard. Walking on her knees, she was just able to press her crotch against the window while her bonds made her upper body lean back. 

	Wriggling her hips, she smeared Marshall's cum on the windshield, pressing her smooth, semen-soaked pussy against the glass. As her pierced clitty rubbed the glass, Peggy's cunt began watering again. Outside, the walking dead pressed gray fingers and blackened lips against the glass, so hungry for the child's sex in different ways. Their reaction queued up another orgasm for Peggy but again she didn't stop moving for her audience.

	Behind her, Marshall felt the stirring in his groin once more. Peggy was feeling particularly itchy today and they would be here for a while. Once he was hard again, Peggy cooed when she felt his hands pulling her back to his waiting cock. With the dead watching, she quivered as she awaited the touch of hard, living flesh to take her again.


madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm






















This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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