The Hills Have Cocks

Carrie felt like she had been asleep for a very long time. She felt like she'd been **** too. She wasn't in the RV. It looked like she was in a basement. She was wearing a thick steel collar, attached with an equally thick steel chain to a very solid looking wall. She was in a room with a bed and a toilet. Her captor opened the door.

"Well, you're finally awake. You're the prettiest thing we've seen in ages."

"Who the fuck are you guys?" Carrie hissed. Her captor hushed her.

"If you want food and water, you'll be little more cooperative. I'm Woody. C'mon out guys." Woody looked middle aged, about 40. What appeared to be his grandfather looked about 80. His dad appeared about 60. And the youngest was 20. The youngest reminded Carrie of you -- fey and effeminate.

"You've got the old man, Clovis. My dad, Jethro. And my son, Floyd. And you, bitch, are going to be our breeding stock."

"Where the fuck am I? You can't get away with this!"

"Oh, far, far away from where you were. And no, no one will be looking for you here. You get to start with Clovis in the morning."