FFF - Commit to the fight

Another spear flies out of the dark, narrowly missing you. You aim the rifle and pull the trigger, but there’s only a click. You work the bolt. Nothing. It’s empty. You cast a panicked look at the fallen man; he might have more ammunition on him, but you’ll be exposed if you go pat him down.

Blood bubbles between Boss Murphy’s fingers, still holding the wound on her throat.

The inside of the building is quiet now. Maybe it’s safe in there, or at least it will provide cover.

“Hey!” you call out. “Give us some cover!”

Your eyes fall on Boss Murphy’s gun. You can’t even lift it, let alone use it. You grab Boss Murphy’s studded gator skin vest and struggle to drag her. You feel things going wrong in your legs and back as you strain, dragging her inch by inch. You’re only feet from the door, but every centimeter is a battle. Your body can’t take this.

Stinging bits of masonry sting your skin as more bullets hit the wall. Your hands slip free and you spill to the ground, scrambling for the door. You don’t want to abandon her, but you’ll just be shot or speared at this rate. You slide into the dark interior and get to your feet, looking for some sign of Boss Murphy’s men, who should’ve been providing cover fire. But they weren’t, because they’re all dead.

You slip in a puddle of blood and turn to see the attacker that slipped past you. It’s too dark for details, but you see the fist coming straight at your face.

The bunks for unmarried people in the Vault are not very wide. Not really even wide enough for one person, let alone two.

You see the pages of the Diagra comic, where a nude, erect Diagra wrestles a wild, but beautiful tiger woman to submission in a jungle. As you turn the page to see the tiger woman meekly surrender and present her hindquarters, you feel movement beside you. Daisy is here, dozing as you read. Her foot touches yours, her hip too, and her arm. Her warm, gentle presence is a comfort in this old, metal tomb. She showered before bed, and you can smell the chemicals on her. They smell like…

…you return to consciousness with a terrible headache that is half the punch you took and half all the blood being in your head because you’re hanging upside down.

Fire. That’s what you smelled. You’re in the gym inside Free Gurls HQ.

You are also naked. The band of raiders that attacked you is here, and so is Boss Murphy. She appears to be alive as well, and they are in the process of sawing her clothes off. It looks as though she’s too big and heavy to string up like they’ve done to you. They are making no effort to treat her wounds.

The fire is not for warmth. It’s a cooking fire. You count six raiders. Your hands are tied. You’re helpless. Boss Murphy appears to be barely clinging to consciousness.

One of them sees that you’re awake, a skinny, grubby woman in dark rags. Her dirty face is covered in war paint. She takes a torch from the fire and approaches you, holding it up to light your body.

She licks her lips.

“Let’s talk about this,” you say fearfully, but it’s hard to think straight when you’re hanging upside down. Besides, you don’t know these people or anything about them. Your powers as a conversationalist might not help you.

The heat of the torch is almost painful. She holds it near your groin, where your soft cock hangs sadly. The woman looks curious.

“Oooh,” says another one as she uncovers Boss Murphy’s penis, which makes yours look like a baby carrot, which is a thing that you read about in a history book once.

The raider reaches out and grabs your cock. Her skin is rough and her nails are long. She pulls on it without any gentleness or intent to make it feel good. You grunt and wiggle, swinging through the air, but that’s a mistake because she doesn’t let go. You have to hold still when she’s got a grip on your most sensitive part. You’d like to stay soft on principle, but it doesn’t work that way. You clench your teeth, but your cock gets hard. The raider’s eyes light up and she looks amused, pulling on it even harder and faster. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in firmness and speed.

You grunt. It doesn’t help that Boss Murphy is conscious. She’s seeing this, even if she is in the process of dying. You fight it for as long as you can, but the raider gets frustrated. She throws down her torch and grabs your boob, then gives your nip a firm twist.

That does it, but she’s not ready. The violent jet of cum, splashes into her face hard enough to make her flinch, and another one splatters all over her front before she can even get out of the way. You groan, shuddering as more semen splashes to the floor, extinguishing the torch.

The other raiders have gone silent.

The leader looks at her hands, then her clothes, then touches her sticky face, stunned. Then she looks annoyed.

She whips out a knife and grabs your cock, raising the blade.

“No! No, no!” you cry out in panic.

A shatteringly loud gunshot hammers your eardrums and warm blood sprays your body as the leader’s head is blown away. The other raiders let out shouts of surprise and go for their weapons, but five more shots follow from the shadows. They collapse. A spear rolls across the floor, dropped by the last one to hit the ground.

Shell steps into the light, a .223 pistol held in her hand. She wears a long, brown coat and boots.

She doesn’t even look at you, but she points in your direction as she walks past.

“Stay quiet,” she says. “I’ll get you down in a minute.”

Stunned, drained, traumatized, you hang there, staring as she goes straight to Boss Murphy.

With no hesitation, Shell lifts her booted foot and stomps down with her full weight, right on Boss Murphy’s massive, green cock. Boss Murphy’s toughness and stoicism are incredible, but even she can’t help but twitch and grunt weakly. Shell points her gun at Boss Murphy’s face.

Say something?

Or stay quiet?