Copyright (c) 2014,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Tuesday, April 08, 2014

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: apocalyp.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com




story_codes: Mf/g(6), first, semi-cons, cons

story_intro: It's ten years after society as it was once known fell apart with the rise of the walking dead. Many business transactions are doe through bartering and a little girl finds herself drawing interest from the self-styled king of a major city.

story_language: English




Apocalypse Road: The King of Kansas City

Written by madvlad


	The End, when it came, had its high moments if one could be bothered to look past the death and carnage. Rumors of the dead returning as flesh-eating zombies had been floating around just beyond the fringes of the regular, mainstream media. It certainly wasn't worthy enough for the likes of CNN or Sixty Minutes, but some otherwise decently respectable websites and bloggers both on the right and the left were reporting more frequent occurrences.

	It was, of course, up to Hollywood to show the world its future. True to showbiz form, it was done with style and panache that only Tinsel Town could produce.

	With millions around the globe tuned in the Academy Awards, the zombies descended upon the perfectly coiffed crowd inside the Dolby Theater. At first, no one in the crowd seemed very concerned, assuming the new arrivals were seat fillers to ensure no vacant chairs were caught on camera when a winner left to go the stage or if someone simply needed to leave for a quick snort of coke or just a quickie in the bathroom with a former co-star.

	The first indication that the attendees had that something was wrong was that there were entirely too many seat-fillers for an auditorium this size. The second indication was when some of the zombies began chowing down on the beautiful people. No one was particularly concerned when a few cinematographers disappeared into the smacking maws of the newcomers and few were even paying attention when a three-time Oscar winner for Sound Editing was torn apart and munched. (Seriously, people, could anyone even name a sound editor?) But when the star of the critically acclaimed 'Diary of a Vegan' was rudely transformed into a carnivore's fare, the crowd became agitated. 

	While some were bolting from their seats in horror, a debonair actor known for his string of tastefully hot girlfriends and his fundraising for certain politicians gathered a group of his fellow actors and actresses on the stage. After a few minutes, he commandeered a microphone and announced the formation of AEMI - Actors for Equality of the Mortally Impaired. A group of zombies came onstage where they were welcomed with hugs of support. Exactly twenty-three seconds later, the first and final meeting of AEMI concluded with a buffet of raw meat.

	The living who had survived the first wave were unable to escape as all exits were blocked by huge objects that were waiting to be brought on stage for the ceremony's 'Salute to Very Large Movie Props'. Perhaps the most poignant image of the night before the broadcast feed was cut was that of a simple yet rotting young man wearing a bus driver's uniform while standing at the podium, gnawing on a beautifully tanned arm that still clutched the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role in its hand.

	Two days and thousands of zombie encounters later later, the federal government was in full swing. The president was on Capitol Hill for a joint session of both houses. Earlier in the day, Republicans and Democrats united in the House and Senate to approve the Federal Zombie Act which authorized two trillion dollars which partly went for zombie research, zombie containment, and zombie regulation. The remaining ninety-seven percent of the funding was allocated to combat the zombie crisis with new landscaping around federal office buildings, private jets and limos for government officials, field studies on the mating habits of mosquitoes in western Louisiana, and other such vital projects to keep the new menace at bay. 

	With the spending in place, a Congressional hearing started to get to the bottom of what the media creatively dubbed "Zombiegate". Zombies were handed subpoenas whenever they were found and had been herded into the chamber. Government math being what it was, the president, vice-president, and Congress soon found themselves outnumbered by the hungry dead. Secret Service agents did their loyal best, blasting the zombies with headshots until their ammunition ran out.

	No one was sure of the final tally, but the members of Congress who hadn't been completely devoured had suffered enough grisly bites to die within the day, only to rise shortly after as new zombies. The president was nowhere to be seen, alive or dead. His bloodied necktie was seen on the video feed next to pile of chewed bones, leaving little doubt as to his fate. 

	The lone survivor was the vice-president, who was yukking it up with the decapitated head of the Speaker of the House. He was playing ventriloquist with it, moving the jaws while he spoke in a poor imitation of the Speaker's voice. The VP thought he was getting very good at making the mouth move when he found it could move on its own. Apparently oblivious to the whole zombie situation, he brought the Speaker's head closer for a better look. The head promptly sank its teeth into the vice-president's face. As the man screamed, the other zombies realized the puppet show was over and joined the Speaker's head for a snack.

	The ratings for C-Span were enormous - in fact second only to the aforementioned Academy Awards banquet. As the country plummeted into further chaos over the following months, even the most pessimistic people had to admit the federal government had never run so smoothly in years ever since the day after the zombie hearings in Washington, DC. 

	
Ten Years Later

	Martin Cowens heaved a weary sigh as he signaled his caravan to halt when he saw the gates closing. Twilight was approaching and they had come as far the eastern walls of Kansas City. While some cities such as St. Louis on the other side of what had been Missouri had become zombie-infested ruins, other cities such as Kansas City had been safely secured when local councils or dictators who had assumed control erected barriers. Thus modern cities began to resemble their ancestors as they were ringed with walls and defenses. 

	The ratcheting of beams and locks on the gates echoed in the air as Martin regarded other bands of travelers settling in and starting camp fires for the evening meals. Catching the eye of a woman in a nearby ring of garishly painted, ox-drawn VW vans, he called out to her.

	"What's the zombie threat out here after dark?"

	The woman shrugged unconcernedly.

	"Same as it is in daylight," she replied. "None. King Elander cleared 'em out as far east as far as Odessa, up north past Saint Joe, an' maybe as far south as Saint Cygne. If you're gonna cross the river, stick to the old I-70 trail until you reach the Topeka Enclave. The highway is walled with chain-link an' wires to keep the biters out, but anywhere else around there is trouble."

	Martin considered this advice. His group had decided to head west to the Pacific. As much as reasonably possible, they tried to avoid any enclaves, kingdoms, baronies, or whatever else the local rulers called their small empires. Passing through them meant tribute and Martin didn't want to arrive at the coast with empty wagons. But they had heard about Kansas City and its stores of wealth hoped they would be able to trade for what items they needed.

	"So what's this Elander like?" Martin asked the woman.

	"No biters an' no raiders in these parts, thanks to him," she replied with a sweep of her hand. "You got trade?"

	"Yeah. We need more ammo and water purification tablets mostly, plus some other stuff. Heard this place was our best bet before going west of the Missouri River."

	"Yup," she affirmed. "Come sun-up, they'll open the Gates of Dawn - that's what the king named these on the eastern wall - an' the caravans can enter. We'll go down to the Fed Res an' get checked out by the king's men. Then we line up just north - a long road up to the king's palace. He holds court outside if the weather's good which means quicker trading since all the wagons with stuff are right there. You pay your tribute an' then haggle for the rest. You can bargain with him an' not be afraid as long as you aint too outrageous. Sometimes, he gets real touchy if he thinks you're shafting him an' no good comes of that."

	"Off with our heads and all that?"

	"Depends. I heard the witch is back in town. If he gives the word, you'll get burnt."

	Martin stared after the woman as she turned to tend to her camp. Witch? And would she cast a burning spell? He shook his head. A lot of people had become superstitious since The End, but he wasn't that far there, yet.

	The faint glow of a false dawn appeared on the horizon as Martin awoke from an uneasy sleep. He went to the others, jostling them from their slumbers so they could make ready to enter the city. Looking to one side, he saw the VW van group was doing the same. Both caravans were among the first to line up just outside the gates. As they were waiting, Martin introduced himself to the woman he had spoken to the evening before.

	"I'm Magda," she said as she tilted her head to indicate the growing line of fuel and animal powered vehicles behind them. "You were smart to get up early an' get to the front. King Elander is easiest to deal with in the morning but he gets impatient later in the day."

	"So what time do they open or is it when the guards think the sun is up enough?"

	"You'll hear the piper play when the top of the sun breaks the horizon. The Piper at the Gates of Dawn is his title."

	"Sounds poetic."

	"Yup. King Elander likes those kinds of touches. Gets 'em from old songs an' such."

	Martin looked at the parapets on either side of the gates and checked them from time to time. The guards stood like statues but then he spied another figure moving among them.
In the east, the first golden rays broke from the distant line and the new figure brought a long object to his lips.

	Martin could hear a melody, slow and ethereal and slightly haunting, dancing on the breeze from above. Then the trilling grew louder, gaining speed. Metallic clanks and grinding sounded from within and the gates slowly opened. 

	When the music was done, Magda's and Martin's bands were the first to enter. As he passed inside, Martin saw a man dressed entirely in purple and clutching a silver flute descending from one of the gate towers. He shook his head - he had dealt with other eccentric rulers in the past decade, but this Elander was going to be a real treat.

	It was an hour later when they reached the parking lot of the old Federal Reserve building. The guards inspected their vehicles and wagons and then made sure no people were carrying weapons on them or had them within easy reach in their caravans.

	Following Magda's train, Martin led his group north on the long road leading to an impressive structure. Made of limestone and marble, it appeared to be partially buried underground on either side where grassy knolls rose upward to a massive plaza. Crowning the plaza was a towering, rounded obelisk with windows at the very top. On either side of the obelisk were two statues of some mythical animal whose name Martin couldn't quite recall. And on either end were two large buildings with tall windows. The road ended near the center of the entire structure where a stage was erected. From the top of the main structure hung long, narrow red banners that reminded him of darkened blood. 

	Martin guessed that the main structure was maybe three stories from the ground up to the top, where the statues, towers, and other buildings then began. The sight was incredible and Martin couldn't tell whether it was a pre-End building or something Elander had constructed. It was most likely the former but Martin was not about to put anything past this Elander guy.

	Courtiers and guards were already gathering as the first give groups came to a stop. Martin looked at a man dressed in a patchwork of plaid patterns juggling seven knives. The motion of the blades and the man's clothing made him a little dizzy.

	To the right of the stage where a throne with red upholstery matching the banners had been placed was an old Army half-track. An odd looking tube with a flame flickering from the end was pointed vaguely in the direction of the first caravans, although elevated over their heads. A long-limbed woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties with garish make-up sat nonchalantly behind the thing. Martin racked his brain and realized he was looking at a heavily mounted flame-thrower.

	"That's the witch," Magda told him. "Elander sends her out with all her weapons to keep the biters an' other riff-raff at bay. She's got them flame shooters an' rockets that make pretty flowers out of fire an' other tricks she's always cooking up. Not much trouble in these parts anymore, but he doesn't let his guard down one bit."

	Martin looked carefully at this fire witch and was about to ask Magda another question when a man in a yellow jester's costume came bounding toward the group in a series of handsprings and somersaults. 

	"Gentle Ladies and Merry Men," the jester cried. "I bid you welcome and caution and a cautious welcome to the court of the Crimson King!"

	With a fanfare of trumpets, a man strode from the main building and climbed on to the stage as the courtiers cheered. He looked to be of average height and build, wearing gray pants tucked into high leather boots and a blood-red tunic. He wore no crown but had a huge signet ring on one finger. 

	Altogether, he didn't look all that dangerous, which in Martin's experience made him very capable of being dangerous. All the same, Martin couldn't keep from staring at the slim figure leaning against one side of the throne. She had accompanied Elander from the building, dressed in enticingly form-fitting black leather from her boots to her pants and the vest that was laced closed in the front. 

	She was young, with a softness to her facial features that made her seem ten or so. But the small breasts pressing modestly beneath the leather (and deliciously exposed through the widely-spaced lacing in the front) made Martin revise his estimate up by a year or two. Her hair was dyed a bright blue and she casually, but expertly toyed with a wicked-looking knife she had taken from a scabbard strapped to one thigh. Her dark eyes betrayed nothing as she looked at the gathered subjects.

	As The End was unfolding, Eric Landers found himself trapped in Kansas City where he had flown to evaluate some damage to a manufacturing plant after a fire. A thirty-two year-old insurance claims inspector from Chicago whose major vice was a deep fascination for progressive rock from the 60's and 70's, he was hardly the type who would someday rule the city he was visiting for the first time.

	Eric was a stickler for details and a patient inspector. He noticed certain details in the fire that matched another investigation he had done in Pittsburgh. Although no clear case of arson could be made, there were subtle clues in chemical analysis done on material where the blaze began that told Eric the fire had been deliberate. The odd thing in both cases was that one ingredient had been slightly overused, which left a chemical trace. The arsonist clearly knew what he was doing in all other aspects but the oh-so minor excess in both instances told Eric that his suspect was leaving a deliberate calling card as if he was proud of his work.

	In his hotel room, he researched other investigations, finding the same chemical autograph in some cases from California to Alaska and Florida to Maine. So deep was his interest that it wasn't until hours later that he turned his attention to the urgent news reports about the Oscars. His investigation forgotten, he promptly changed his flight home for the next morning. 

	It was pandemonium at the airport as people like Eric were frantically trying to get home amidst the chaos. As he was dropping his rental car off at the lot, he noticed the car in front of him with the trunk still open. A couple of familiar items caught his attention - small cans of common items that if mixed together would produce the kind of fuel he was becoming familiar with. Disregarding the check-in clerk printing the receipt, Eric jogged after a young woman with curly blonde hair whom he had noticed at the car. He got on board the shuttle bus and took a seat next to her. 

	She was staring out the window, studiously avoiding eye contact as strangers packed together often do. But she turned when Eric kept clearing his throat.

	"Can I help you?" she asked. 

	Eric thought she looked awfully young to be a master arsonist as he handed her his business card. 

	"Eric Landers. I investigate fires and I've become fan of your work."

	The woman's fingers clenched for a moment as she turned her stare straight ahead.

	"Valerie Eccles. I set fires and I've become a fan of getting the hell out of here before I'm lunch."

	Eric was stunned for a moment and then laughed; drawing odd looks from other passengers who were frightened and worried.

	"Fair enough. Maybe I'll track you down if the world doesn't come to an end."

	Valerie grunted.

	"Good luck," she replied. "I always have aliases but something tells me I might not need them anymore."

	Caught up in their own worries, none of the passengers and flight crew paid any attention to the man in seat 14D on Delta Airlines Flight 1272. He looked deathly ill and was massaging his forearm where, underneath his sport coat sleeve, the bite from his late wife was festering. He died shortly after takeoff. Five minutes later, he turned to the plump gentleman seated in 14E and sank his teeth into the man's jowly face. 

	Pandemonium erupted as the new victim scrambled over the back of his seat to escape while the flight attendants repeated their warnings to remain seated with seatbelts fastened. While 14D turned his appetite toward the woman cowering in 14F, the former occupant of 14E had his congested heart fail as he collapsed in row 15. 

	The three passengers in the starboard 15th row were unsure what to do with the corpse stretched across their laps. When the corpse re-animated hungrily, they discovered that screaming and dying were their only remaining options.

	Some well-meaning passengers tried to intervene in both rows, getting bitten for their efforts and soon adding to the zombie population. The flight attendants were at wits' end as now numerous passengers were up and about despite the seatbelt lights still being illuminated. On top of that, several trays were no longer in their upright positions. Their exasperation came to an end when several transformed passengers arrived at the galleys wanting something more to eat than just tiny bags of pretzels. 

	When flight 1272 landed on time at 9:32 a.m., the gate crewman was annoyed when the aircraft door wouldn't open for several minutes. When it finally did, the bleeding captain scrambled out, making it halfway up the jet way before he collapsed. When the crewman looked inside the plane, he saw several unwell passengers dining on the co-pilot. Running for his life, he tripped over the sprawled captain. When he got to his feet and extended his hand to help the captain, the pilot accepted it - teeth-first. 

	A mathematician would have been fascinated with the exponential factors at which the zombie-to-human population ratio shifted in the airport. The TSA was less pleased as zombies were lurching through security checkpoints with their shoes, jackets and belts on and without removing all items from their pockets. Within the hour, though, the TSA personnel whose bodies were still intact enough to move about were more concerned with living flesh.

	Eric and Val found themselves standing together in a bar as the patrons were passing free bottles around. On one television screen, Fox News analysts were discussing whether zombies were Pro Choice or Pro Life and whether zombie-rights advocates would be demanding equal marriage laws for the living dead. On another TV, MSNBC had a panel worriedly commenting on how climate change was responsible for the rise in zombie proliferation. Most people were more interested with the third screen playing an info-mercial for 'Zom-B-Gone' Spray at $19.99 a can with a second one absolutely free (plus extra shipping and handling). 

	As things rapidly degraded, Eric knew from TV coverage of a zombie fest on Clark and State Streets that there was no going back to Chicago. His main regret was that he could do nothing for his wife who was still there. The marriage had not been going well as of late, but Eric knew he was just as much to blame as she was. Although he never did learn her fate, he suspected that she had not fared well when city officials fled under full police escort, leaving the citizens to the zombies. The irony that the mayor and city council who had likely won their elections by getting fraudulent votes of the dead and were now fleeing their "loyal" constituents was not lost on the survivors.

	Eric turned to Val. 

	"I think we both need a change of plans."

	Val looked at him and sniffed.

	"If you think I'm going to give you an End of the World mercy fuck, think again."

	"Actually, I was thinking of survival," he replied and briefly outlined a few ideas.

	Val turned to him and started to reconsider her appraisal of the man.

	
They made a good team with Eric working the strategy while Val took care of the more tactical portions. They eventually found themselves leading a group of survivors from a cargo hangar. Wanting to appear a little more mythical and mysterious, Eric Landers shortened his name to Elander which he though was pretty bad-ass. Val thought it humorous but kept her mouth shut.

	What actually happened over the next few years was of little consequence as King Elander would later have it re-written to suit his own grand version of history. But the ragtag group from the hangar grew and Elander found himself in the year 4 AZ (After Zombies) as one of three remaining warlords in Kansas City. 

	Elander and Val grew to trust each other after their awkward first contact. Val knew she didn't have the mind to do what Eric could and Eric appreciated her talents with anything incendiary. She had been a prodigy in chemistry having earned a PhD at age twenty. But the worlds of corporate or government research had quickly grown drab and she found she preferred the danger and challenge of arson-for-hire. Now as Elander's chief enforcer, she had more opportunities for new toys and mischief. 

	After a battle ended with the death of the other two warlords, Elander found himself drunk and deliriously happy at the celebration. Needing some fresh air, he wandered out of the headquarters and into the streets of his new fiefdom. It was then he noticed a dark-haired child in torn clothing huddled against a partially bombed-out building.

	"What's your name?" he slurred.

	"Brooklyn," she said softly.

	"Well, Brooklyn, I'm now the big warlord in these parts and I think I'm a pretty good guy. What do you say to that?"

	"You're the king?"

	"King?" Elander blurted as he swayed slightly. "King Elander, I like that! Hey, what happened to your clothes?"

	Brooklyn was wearing a t-shirt and shorts that she had outgrown already. Both were hanging in shreds as she told her new king her story. 

	When a couple of soldiers from another faction had come across the little girl, they decided to use her for recreation. Brooklyn was no virgin - many orphans in the street had to sell their small bodies for food or protection. Still, she tried to resist, but was no match for them as they tore at her clothes. It was only the sudden attack of Elander's forces that saved her from rape.

	Elander looked at the girl for a moment, his prick hardening at the thought of fucking such a small female - she would be tight.

	"How old are you, Brooklyn?"

	"Eight."

	For an eight year-old, she had one hell of an ass - beautifully rounded as her too-small and ripped shorts displayed. In his old life, Eric Landers had found himself gazing at little girls on occasion and thinking thoughts no respectable insurance claims inspector should have. But as Elander, he was now the king and whatever he wanted was respectable.

	"Have you ever been with a man, Brooklyn?"

	"Uh huh." 

	Elander sat on a large piece of rubble and set the bottle down. He wanted to clear his brain for a while.

	"So tell your king all about it."

	And she did. All about how few people cared about protecting a little girl separated from her family as survival came first. The few who had inevitably died in the jaws of zombies or by the weapons of the living. She was alone at the mercy of whoever was ruling the block that day or week. Before she turned five, Brooklyn had forcibly learned how to make a man cum in her little mouth. 

	It was less than a year later that she was taught that she had another desirable orifice. She was naked with the grit of a filthy driveway digging into her back and buttocks as a man forced himself between her legs, ripping and pushing his way into her little body.  Despite the agony, she did not scream as she knew that could draw zombies. Even at her tender age, she was becoming adept at surviving in this terrible new world. Quieter sobs and copious tears would have to do.

	The man grunted and Brooklyn felt the wash of semen inside her. After the man left without giving her a second look, she painfully sat up and looked at blood and jism flowing from her torn slit. For days, she worried she would turn gray and foul-smelling, suddenly feeling the urge to feed on the living. When it did not happen, she discovered a new way to get by. 

	Like other street urchins, she would lick her lips slowly when advertising her services in exchange for some edible scraps or shelter. If a man looked like he had better food to offer and was going to have his choice of children, she would lower her pants enough to show him a glimpse of a tiny hairless cunt. As her new client would lead her off for a little privacy, she would rub her spit in her cleft to prepare herself. 

	Most men were quick about the act as Brooklyn's warm little pussy clenched their cocks and brought them off in short order. Some were crueler, trying to force their way deeper than her small body could handle. She would writhe in agony as her cervix was battered but never penetrated. 

	This Elander looked like one of the few who actually treated her decently. When she worked up the nerve to offer herself, he nodded slowly and led her back to headquarters and his room.

	"We'll have to find you some new clothes," he said as she stripped. "Tell me, have you ever had a man back here?"

	Brooklyn shivered as the man's hands cupped and gently squeezed her rubbery buttocks. She knew of men using kids that way, but she had never been taken there. It was her last remaining part of her body that was still untouched and she clung to her sole virginity as a lifeline to a better, innocent time that had long gone to dust. Swallowing hard, she raised her eyes to him.

	"No one has done me there before..." she paused with a hard swallow. "Before you."

	Elander placed her on the bed and got a tube of something from a box. She tried to remain still, but could not help shuddering when he smeared the gunk between her buttocks and slightly into her puckered hole.

	When he mounted the eight year-old, he was firm but with only enough force to enter her. Brooklyn squeezed her eyes shut - it still hurt, but she knew it could have been much worse. As he slowly sawed in and out of her snug bottom, the pain lessened and she found a small bit of pleasure in the friction against her anus and the rubbing in her bowels.

	Elander could tell the kid was getting into it, moaning and jerking her rump up a little. He was nearly done when he found he had managed to get all six inches of his now-kingly cock inside her. Brooklyn's ass cheeks provided the perfect cushion against his groin as he came in large bursts, coating the little girl's innards. He remained inside of her as he rolled to the side, idling exploring the smoothness of her chest and belly and quim with a languid hand.

	"You were good," he said. "How would you like to stay around for a while?"

	So Brooklyn became his familiar - a good luck mascot as many of his soldiers thought. Val discerned there was something more going on but did not care. In fact, she wanted to indulge in as many kinks as possible in this world where death could come knocking - or barge right in - at any time. Elander was happy to let her have Brooklyn from time to time and was even more thrilled when he had the child recount her latest tryst with the woman he had dubbed the Fire Witch.

	By now, Brooklyn was servicing her king in any hole he wanted. He was good to her and often left her with more than one gooey orifice by morning. One evening, Brooklyn provided another service when a treasonous captain tried his hand at regicide. As they were grappling, neither noticed the girl creeping up behind the assailant with a steak knife from dinner. Having grown up in violence and then hearing soldiers talk in her months with Elander, she knew a little about weak spots. 

	The soldier was locked with Elander hand-to-hand after the king had knocked the pistol away. A sharp sting below the back of his knee suddenly appeared and his leg buckled. The man rolled away and tried to stand, only to find he had been hamstrung. Drawing his own pistol, Elander approached the traitor and was about to fire when he saw Brooklyn holding the bloody knife. They locked eyes and Elander saw in the girl a need to release vengeance on all of the men who had wronged her. 

	Nodding to the soldier on the floor, he said to Brooklyn, "He's all yours."

	The soldier was confused as he first saw the child approach him. That didn't make sense - a kid wouldn't...

	The slash that opened his carotid artery corrected his assumption. It was followed by a bullet to the head from Elander - a precaution in case the man had any zombie infection in his body. 

	The next day, Brooklyn began lessons in bladed combat, becoming efficiently deadly with anything sharp. She was now more than a mascot. After years of malnourishment, her growth was slightly stunted. Her body matured to a limited degree, but remained lithe and younger-looking as she entered her teens.

	With his power consolidated, Elander cleaned Kansas City of its zombie nests, fortifying it and slowly expanding his influence outward. A thorough search of the Federal Reserve Building had been disappointing as there were no caches of gold there - just vaults of useless paper currency. 

	But he was pleased with the building north of it. The World War I Museum looked regal enough to be a king's palace and was very practical to defend. And so he established residence there and gathered the faithful to his court.

	Elander rubbed his eyes for a moment as he surveyed the line of caravans. Although he was always eager to take tribute (the trading he would leave to other court officials) and hear news of the outside world, it could get tedious. At least today's lot didn't look to be too large.

	Much of the court's fanfare and protocol came from the old rock songs he had admired. It was eccentric, of course, and rather overdone in places, but as a learned man once remarked, it was good to be the king.

	Elander was not a cruel man, but he knew he had to act a little crazy now and then beyond the art rock trappings of his kingdom. That usually meant ill treatment or even death to people who piqued his ire. But it was a hard world and he knew a few excesses would keep everyone else in line. But too many excesses would turn people against him, so he had to strive for a balance.

	There were times when he wondered if he wasn't going truly insane. But he supposed if he was, he wouldn't have the mental faculties to question his state. It was with some pragmatic comfort that he knew if he truly went completely bat-shit, he would be well beyond caring and would hopefully enjoy the wild ride.

	He stole an admiring look at Brooklyn, still wearing the blue hair from her latest dye job. Although he would have preferred her natural brunette to match the black (and lecherously tight) outfits she wore, he allowed the girl her own little eccentricities. Finally, he turned to look at the traders, his face lighting up with benign pleasure as he recognized the woman in charge of the lead group.

	"Magda!" he called. "What gifts do you come bearing today? Something of gold or silver or of gem stones, perhaps?"

	"Something of a different material, your majesty," she said with a bow. "They are of vinyl."

	Elander clapped his hands and laughed. There was electricity in many kingdoms, including his. Windmills and solar panels were his chief resources and he had his old music in several formats. But his favorite was the old LP's and 45's - the original way they were played. Some said the music was richer in that format, although he had never noticed the difference. 

	Magda approached and bowed before handing him two flat packages of colored cardboard.

	"Procol Harum and Yes," he murmured, running his fingers over the covers. "I thank you and grant you favorability in your trading today."

	The jester gestured to Martin who stepped forward and carefully recited a list of items he hoped would satisfy the king's want for tribute. Otherwise, they could be turned away with no hope of passage except to venture back into zombie lands. Elander was completely bored with a drab man until there was movement in one of the man's wagons. The guards aimed their weapons until a tarp lifted slight and a small girl stepped out.

	Her hazel eyes were wide as she surveyed the palace and approached the stage where Elander sat. He was amused by her curiosity and lack of fear and gestured to his guards to lower their weapons. Her hair was the color of honey - dark blonde going to light brown. Elander judged her to be a few years younger than Brooklyn had been when he had found her.

	"Are you a real king?" the tyke asked.

	The crowd was still - no one ever spoke to the king in court unless he spoke to them first. But Elander grinned widely.

	"Yes I am," he replied with a bow of his head.

	Satisfied, the girl ignored him and turned to Brooklyn.

	"Then you're the queen. Your hair is pretty. I like it."

	"Thanks!" Brooklyn laughed. 

	The girl peered around at the others and frowned.

	"Where's the princess?" she asked.

	"We don't have one," Elander informed her. 

	The little girl turned her big eyes up to the king.

	"Can I be the princess?"

	Elander rocked in his chair as he laughed.

	"You're a bold one," he wheezed with tears running down his face. "What's your name?"

	"Aleisha."

	"And how old are you, Aleisha?"

	"Um, maybe six?"

	Elander thought that might be right, judged on her size. If the child came from the outlands, then it was all too likely that there were no birth records. He turned to Martin.

	"Is she yours?"

	"No, your highness. We found her in the wreckage of another caravan just east of Memphis. The raiders must not have seen her."

	"So she shares no blood with any in your band. Is she for trade or for tribute? We don't trade for children here. But she certainly would be a fitting tribute from grateful travelers who desire the safety of good passage."

	"I..." Martin began before pausing. 

	He and the others didn't need another mouth to feed, but didn't feel right leaving her behind. They thought they might be able to leave her in one of the Amish settlements in Iowa in exchange for some vital crop seed. The one demographic who had barely been affected by The End were the Amish as they had pretty well kept to themselves. They only used higher technology to do business with the outside world and when the outside world went down the toilet, the "Plain People" willingly dumped their technological nuisances. Some thought that the Amish would be easy prey, but they learned how those communities were perfectly willing and able to defend themselves. 

	Some people tried to join the Amish, but were rebuffed as the clannish folk didn't want outsiders. The one exception was young children who had not been polluted by the outside world. They were often quite welcome.

	Now this king wanted the girl - and judging by the way he looked at her, it wasn't to raise her wholesomely like the Amish would. This guy was as un-Amish as they got. Finding Aleisha had been a good stroke of luck in being able to get what they wanted later and he was about to protest when he saw Magda give him a barely perceptible shake of her head. The woman at the flame thrower shifted in her seat as she took a sudden interest in the dusty-looking trader.

	"Of course," Martin replied as the words nearly choked him. "What better place for a girl to be raised than in a palace?"

	Elander clapped his hands, ending the conversation. Martin trudged toward the other officials to negotiate some other trades while the juicy little teen in black leather stepped down to greet Aleisha.

	Brooklyn hugged Aleisha tightly, immediately considering the child to be half-sister and half-daughter. There were other, more prurient roles the little girl would also fulfill in good time. Brooklyn looked up at Elander.

	"Can I show Aleisha the palace?" she asked.

	"Go ahead," he allowed. "And take your time. I'll see you - both of you - at dinner."

	The manner in which he said the last word made Brooklyn's groin moisten at the thought of dessert. Taking Aleisha by the hand, she guided her into the depths of her new home.

	Aleisha was continuously amazed at the decorations and the chambers full of treasure. It was late morning when they arrived in the best room yet- the restaurant-sized kitchen. It was plain that Aleisha had never seen so much food in so much variety and Brooklyn decided it was time for lunch. Aleisha gorged herself on all kinds of fruit and sweets and fresh cheese that wasn't hardened from being packed for travel. She tried some chicken, surprised it wasn't salty and dry like the jerky-style that was more common on the outside.

	Brooklyn tried to keep Aleisha from eating too much lest she get sick. But the teen also remembered her own early childhood and could sympathize with the little girl's hunger. It was Aleisha's weariness that eventually won out as the stuffed tot's eyelids grew heavy. Brooklyn took her to Elander's chambers - a suite of rooms - and led her to the master bedroom to sleep. Aleisha stretched contentedly on top of the luxurious quilt and was out a minute later. 

	Watching the innocent girl in her slumber, Brooklyn began to plan for dinner.

	"This is better than washing from a bucket!" Aleisha giggled two hours later as Brooklyn joined her in the huge tub with perfectly warm water.

	The six year-old wriggled happily beneath the suds as Brooklyn tenderly washed every part of her little body, ending with the soft bit of girl flesh between her legs. Brooklyn pulled Aleisha into her lap with the girl's head resting between her budding breasts. Letting the washcloth float away, Brooklyn used her fingers in directly contact over the round folds of the chubby mound.

	"You're washing my 'gina lots," Aleisha observed as she widened her legs. "It feels good."

	"I'll make you feel even better," Brooklyn murmured as she stroked the little girl's slit with more pressure, flicking the tiny clit and letting her pinky finger swirl against one side of Aleisha's mons.

	Aleisha let out a small exclamation and turned her head around, craning to look up at the older girl. Brooklyn greeted her with an open-mouthed kiss on the child's plump mouth, snaking her tongue inside. Startled, the tot squirmed for a moment and then relaxed as the teen's tongue stroked her mouth. The oral contact and the hand in her crotch were all very strange to Aleisha, but she liked these touches very much. When Brooklyn's free hand began playing with the tiny nipples on Aleisha's wet chest, the little girl sighed in the teen's mouth and completely relaxed, losing herself in the intimate contact she was taking.

	As her exploring finger found the small membrane tucked just behind Aleisha's inner labia, Brooklyn closed her eyes, wishing her first sexual experience had been something like this. Although tempted to break the hymen, she opted to save it, judging it literally fit for a king - as long as the king could fit in. Well, she'd be sure to get Aleisha as loose as possible when the time came. 

	Feeling the flesh tighten in Aleisha's pussy, Brooklyn fiercely sucked the little girl's tongue while pinching a hardened nipple. It all set Aleisha off, making her flail in the water as she was overtaken by her first orgasm.

	After several minutes, Aleisha found the strength to talk.

	"Something happened in my 'gina and then I felt good all over."

	"It's called cumming," Brooklyn said, smiling at the girl's wonder.

	"Is that something princesses do a lot?"

	"Yes. And the king and I will help you."

	When Aleisha nodded happily, Brooklyn began to formulate a plan. Grinning lewdly, she asked Aleisha, "Would you like to help me prepare dinner for King Elander?"

	Elander stood alone in his suite, looking around for Brooklyn and Aleisha. It was seven o'clock and he was always prompt about having dinner at that time. And yet he was unaccompanied by any females and any food. 

	A few minutes later, the door from the hall opened and Brooklyn came in wheeling a long cart in front of her. Covering the top of the cart was a long cardboard carton that had once been used for long fluorescent bulbs. Elander was slightly annoyed until he heard giggling from beneath the box.

	"Your cart is giggling," he said to Brooklyn, making the box laugh louder.

	Brooklyn blew out an exasperated breath.

	"I was trying to make you a surprise for dinner, but..."

	As Brooklyn fumbled with one end of the box, Elander took hold of the other end. Together they lifted it and tossed it aside. Lying nude on the top of the cart was Aleisha, her body covered with a tempting variety of meats and cheeses and fruits. All manners of sauces and creams had been dribbled over the child's delectable figure.

	Elander's stomach rumbled as his dick hardened - it was difficult to determine which was hungrier.

	"I thought you had bathed her," he mockingly scolded Brooklyn.

	"I did, but now look at her. I guess we'll just have to clean her up."

	Aleisha tried to lie still as Brooklyn had instructed, but she could not keep from wriggling and giggling as the other two sucked and nibbled the delicacies from her skin, licking her clean as they went. On occasion, Elander or Brooklyn would feed her something from their mouths, being sure to flick her tongue with theirs as they did so. Between morsels, Aleisha kept her mouth open, eagerly enjoying this new game. 

	When she had been licked clean, Elander moved her over to the bed. He knelt with her head in his lap as she learned to suck something new. Brooklyn had described what the king had been his legs and promised her he would do all kinds of wonderful things with it. Elander guided her face to the helmet-shaped glans and Aleisha opened her mouth like a good princess should. As the child's warm mouth closed around his head, Elander clenched his jaw, staving off the orgasm that threatened to erupt at the girl's oral touch.

	Brooklyn had Aleisha's thighs spread was lapping at the plumpness of the six year-old's hairless snatch. Her tongue dug inside, pressing at the girl's inner pinkness and making Aleisha use her tongue in response on the spongy flesh in her mouth. While Elander concentrated on not cumming, Brooklyn ate the preteen cunt until Aleisha was humping her ass of the bed, trying to fuck the teen's tongue as she came. 

	After Aleisha collapsed wearily on the bed, Brooklyn nodded to Elander.

	"There's a bit of dinner left, your majesty. I saved you a cherry."

	Resting Aleisha's head on the bed, Elander eagerly rook Brooklyn's place between the girl's legs. The tiny bald cuntlet with slick with Brooklyn's saliva and the tot's own nectar. Elander leaned downward, easing the end of his prick into Aleisha's quim. The six year-old, still slightly intoxicated from the lascivious feast on her body and her recent climax, looked dazedly at the king as her petite pussy began to stretch. Elander locked his eyes on the girl's, savoring the innocence of her as he felt her inner labia expand around his glans while it pushed against the fragile maidenhead. 

	With a lunge, he obliterated Aleisha's cherry. A trickle of blood mixed with her juices as the man's cock forced the little girl's pussy to expand and serve its new purpose. Aleisha cried when she was pierced and then gasped for breath as the king's cock seemed like it was crushing her on the inside as it penetrated her. 

	Stopping at her cervix, Elander slowly pulled out and he commenced a series of slow, careful strokes inside the tight, throbbing tunnel of the girl's sex, making her a woman in ways she was only beginning to learn. Brooklyn licked around the swollen and stretched ring of bald pussy flesh around Elander's cock, easing Aleisha's trauma, especially when she found the inflamed button of her clitoris. 

	Aleisha's pussy sounded slurpy as the hard meat slid in and out and the girl squirmed at the intensity of movement inside her baby fuck hole. Brooklyn's tongue and Elander's deft strokes started to over-match the discomfort of her childish twat being used like that of a grown-up's. A few flashes in her loins made Aleisha wonder if she might be able to cum when Elander's cock boiled over, seeding her tiny body in large surges.

	When Elander withdrew, Brooklyn attacked Aleisha's deflowered cunt, sucking the fluids from the tender little hole and indeed giving the child another hard climax in the process. Not nearly sated, the teen turned to Elander's deflated cock, cleaning it of man spunk and young pussy juice while making him erect once more. 

	After she whispered an entreaty to him, Elander sat in a nearby chair. Brooklyn took Aleisha off the bed and then sat in Elander's lap, facing the girl.

	Elander lifted Brooklyn until his cock could slip between her firm buttocks. Brooklyn growled with lust as her ass was penetrated. Although they had sex in a variety of ways, she always liked it best when he took her where he had first done so. For his part, Elander never tired of her hot teen ass and the way she could move her muscles to milk his prick. 

	Brooklyn hugged Aleisha to her, pulling the girl between her parted legs. The she picked her up and held her by the rump so that their pussies mashed together, quivering and rubbing as she was bounced up and down on the king's shaft. She shifted her chest in invitation and Aleisha knew what that meant form her earlier lessons. The little girl's head moved toward small tit, and Aleisha contentedly suckled. 

	It was one of Brooklyn's best fucks yet, getting titty-sucked with a bald little twat that was making friction with her own lightly flossed one while her man's cock was reaming her rear. The hard spray of Elander's cum in her rectum lit her fuse and she came while practically clawing Aleisha's ass cheeks.

	They returned to the bed with Brooklyn heaving for breath after her wild cum while Elander savored the delectable mix of two girls from the tiny font of Aleisha's pussy. When he returned to Brooklyn, they spent hours grappling and twisting on top of the sheets. They welcomed their new little partner as she crawled about them, licking and nibbling here and there as she gradually grew bolder. 

	But Aleisha wore out long before Elander and Brooklyn finally came to a halt. The six year-old was lying face down, snoring softly as Elander fondled the delicious swell of one small buttock.

	"I'll have this one before long," he said as he admired the child's tiny ass.

	"As long as I'm there to enjoy it, too," Brooklyn mumbled sleepily.

	"I wouldn't have it any other way."

	"Gentle Ladies and Merry Men," the yellow jester cried the following morning. "I bid you welcome and caution and a cautious welcome to the court of the Crimson King! And please bid your warmest welcome to our newest fair lady, the Pink Princess!"

	Dressed in a pink gown with bows and ribbons that Brooklyn had found somewhere, Aleisha smiled sweetly and waved to the cheering crowd as she followed Elander and Brooklyn to the stage where the king's throne was. Her hair was arranged in braids and curled and pinned to her head, completing an adorable image that drew sighs and good-hearted humor from the courtiers. No one could know that beneath her dress, the innocent-looking child's sweet little quim was gooey with the king's semen, a last minute gift before they had left their chambers. 

	Her cunny still ached from it, but it didn't hurt as much as the first time. And Brooklyn made sure that she felt good while the king was inside her. Aleisha had the feeling that one day she would cum while Elander was doing that special thing that kings did with princesses. She was glad she was a princess now because there were all kinds of wonderful things that princesses did that other people didn't know about, like playing with cocks and 'ginas and cumming.

	Elander liked the whole 'Pink Princess' idea - it was good PR to show how even a bad-ass king could have a gentle side. Then he said something to Brooklyn and she turned to Aleisha. 

	"Why don't you go to the truck right there and get to know the Fire Witch today?"

	"Is she a real witch?" Aleisha asked, wide-eyed. "Will she eat me up?"

	"Hmm," Brooklyn mused to herself. "If you're lucky, she will. She certainly knows how to eat a girl."

	"Huh?"

	"It's okay, Aleisha, she won't hurt you."

	Aleisha bounded off the stage where soldiers helped her up into the back of the Fire Witch's truck. Patting her lap, Val invited Aleisha to climb into her lap. The girl stared at her with huge eyes and then did as she was invited.

	From below, no one could see Val's lap. Elander looked over at the Fire Witch and gave her a wink. Languidly, Val slid a hand under Aleisha's dress, caressing the small silky thigh as it moved upward. There were no panties as they would have only been in the way. Val let her fingers sweep over the child's cleft mound before easing her index finger into the snug opening. The witch's cunny grew warm when she found the slickness of the freshly fucked interior of the tiny pussy.

	Aleisha gasped. She didn't that witches knew about things princesses did with kings. The Fire Witch must really be smart and the girl wondered what kind of things she could learn from this woman.

	"Pay attention to what goes on, dear," Val whispered in her ear. "I'll take care of everything below."

	With the woman's finger delicately fucking her tender little snatch, the Pink Princess leaned forward and watched her future subjects.

	

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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