Haze of the Future(Closed for Cherubian)

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The first bight rays of the morning sun shine in through the rusty vehicle's glass less windows, waking me as they dace over my face. I begin to stir under the blanket, draped over my toned form as protection from last night's dust storm.

As I return to wakefulness my body, curled up on the bench in the back, begins to unfold. One bare arm shoves open a door before stretching to full length, while my thoughts still linger with the fading memory of the dream. Tarath. And the ever repeating cacophony of images. I don't even remember anymore when the dreams started, they are an almost constant part of my life by now. But there is a new day ahead of me, and no time for idle musings.

On all fours I start to crawl out of my improvised shelter, shifting into an upright position the moment my upper body is stuck outside. Bare feet are planted into the sand beneath, and I stretch fully, straight arms reaching for the sky as my buttocks clench and my back arches, trying to chase the sorenesss from my muscles that was caused by sleeping in such narrow confines. For a few seconds I stand there still, the steppe wind flowing over my stark naked body. I haven't worn a piece of clothing while sleeping in what must have been ages.

Finally my position loosens. On their downward trail my hands run through the mane of blond locks, and my neck cranes as I my head turns, scanning the surroundings. Like last night the landscappe is completely deserted, all the better. So using the ruin of the vehicle as visual shield against potentail travellers on the road my legs bed, my mucles tighten, and I begin my morning training.


One and a half hours later I am on my way on the road. Of course I have dressed by now, more for decency and not to attract more attention that I do anyways than as protection against temperature. The last cool day i have experienced has been years ago, and already the risen sun is glaring down mercilessly on the sand.

Consequently I am dressed lightly. On my upper body I wear a short sleeved shirt, made of plain beige fabric. It is tied into a secure knot beneath my impresssively voluminous breasts, leaving enough of a cleavage to aid favorable interaction with males I might come across, and leaving my toned and well defined midriff bare. My round and firm small butt is stuck inside a pair of pants of light leather, fitting tightly to my form and around my ass and reaching down almost to my knees. The attire is completed by a pair of short worn out boots to protect my feet from the many sharp rocks embedded in the ground. Whatever other possessions I have are stored in the sturdy bag on my back.

Someone in the last village had been kind enough to give me a brief rundown on both Small Bidge and Cartright. Cartright was basically built around a small coal mine, none too pleasant a place by what I heard, while Small Bridge as the name already indicates is situated at a river that still runs fresh water. A free water refill surely is welcome, as is the prospect of stopping in a purely agricultural village. Usually that means fewer syndicate goons and a more relaxed atmosphere overall.

Considering all this it should come as no surprise that my feet are bringing me closer to Small Bridge with every step.

Dm

The road is long and dusty, with several pot holes scattered around. Your travel experience has developed enough to the point that difficult terrain does not impede you too greatly. With your enhanced eyesight you can see the small town peaking on the horizon marking your distance at two kilometers away.

At this point in time you hear the light taps of hooves in the distance behind you, you estimate there is at least two sets of horses and they are traveling much faster than you. By your calculations, they will reach your position before you arrive in the town. One hundred meters ahead lies a small rock formation that would be significant to hide in and on the opposite side of the road another old and rusty broken down car.

The Nameless One

I halt my steps for a few moments to listen more intently, slightly cocking my head in the process. This confirms that yes, it is at least two horses approaching, but not many more than that. With that clarified I immediately resume my previous pace. At most half a dozen riders are not something truly threatening. It would be slow travelling indeed if I were to run and hide from every possible passerby. Not to mention the suspicion I might draw should I not make it to the hideout in time and be spotted scurrying for cover.

So I grip the straps of my backpack again and continue down towards the little dots of Small Bridge on the horizon. My senses are at increased attention, though. Only because I am not afraid of whoever is approaching from behind does not mean I carelessly have to give them an opportunity to dupe me.

Dm

The horse hooves thunder louder in your peripheral hearing. As they approach you also recognise the unmistakable sound of wheels dragging along the dirt covered road.

At a distance of one hundred meters now, you can easily see the shape of a caravan being pulled along by two work horses. A single driver, wearing an overly large had and light clothing sits atop of the carriage guiding them along. By now, you can tell that the driver has spotted you on the road but has not made any change to speed or direction.

As it approaches even closer you hear the driver whistle out to you. From this distance(15 meters) you can tell the driver is most certainly male, lightly built and not overly tall.

The Namelesss One

As the horse driven vehicle approaches I decide to play it save and take a step to the right off the trampled path. The two animals are massive and occupy the path’s full width, no use in risking to accidentially get trampled by them.

Standing there facing the road, one foot scratching over the inside of the opposite shin, I am giving the driver a good view of my profile with all its distinguishing landmarks. As he is about ten meters away I raise my right arm, beginning to wave at him. With a smile on my lips I call out.

“Care to give me a ride to Small Bridge?”

Dm

The carriage slows as it pulls up along side you. At this distance you can see the man and his caravan with much greater detail. His large make-shift hat appears to be made of dead plant matter. He wears sleek dark wrap around sunglasses that cover most of his facial features, his beard is long and unkempt, and although most of his other features are hidden behind the dust you can tell this man has seen the roughest of times.

His clothing is made of a thin material with thicker pads over some of his more vital body parts, they are torn in several places but not to a degree for them to lose functionality, from his stance you can tell that he isn't overly build but he has enough in his frame to probably hold his own. The callouses on his hands tell you that this man isn't afraid of hard work and after spying a crossbow lying at his side along with bolts in a quiver nearby, you can guess he isn't a farmer.

The horses dragging his carriage are relatively healthy, although the dirt and dust of the road have also covered their hides, they aren't scrawny by any means, in fact, judging by their size and stature they could very well be 'Awaken' like yourself. The caravan is also of sturdy construction, the wooden/metallic frame would well survive the rigors of travel in these desolate parts. From your angle you can't see inside the carriage but judging by its shape and the size of its wheels it would be quite capable of carrying a hefty load.

The man shamelessly looks you up and down as he brings his company to a stop. You can see a slight smirk form under his beard at your request.

"For a pretty girl like you, sure why not?" He responds slyly in a strong country styled accent. He stands up, bends over and reaches his hand out toward you. You can see foot holds and hand holds on the sides of his carriage.

"There's plenty of room up top, right next to me sugar." He explains with the slight wink of his eye.

*Like this but not red, no windows and covered in dirt.*

The Nameless One

I openly invite the coach driver's scrutiny, even going so far as to do a bit of posing for him while he stares down at me from the coach seat. My right hand lightly on my hip, head slightly tilted to one side, shoulders pulled back just a bit, and one foot standing on the tips of its toes, the leg slightly bent at the knee. Basically the wordless gesture corresponding to 'Like what you see?' I have long since stopped being bothered by men's hungry gazes, and instead have grown fond of them in an admittedly perverted way. Nowadays it gives me a small rushing feeling of power every time I am desired thusly, although deep down I know that in most cases that desire is limited to wanting to strip me and then nail me. Something I also learned to deal with.

Finally the muster is over, as is the counter muster. Of course I also use the time he spends taking in my curves to carefully inspect him. By his first appearance he is someone who knows how to look for himself, but not necessarily a menace or a danger.

"Aren't you a gentleman" I reply with a kind smile, indicating that my little jab had no malicious intent. So I take the offered hand, lift one slender leg to place a boot atop a foot hold, and then pull. With one swoop I almost fly up onto the coach box, coming to stand straight up and right next to him. My ascent is broken just in time to keep by protruding breasts from brushing against him, but I am standing very close to the man. Close enough to take in the smell of sweat and the rode he is exuding.

And then the 'magical' moment is over. My shoulders rise and roll backwards, causing the straps of my backpack to slide down my arms. My hand closes just in time to keep it from dropping back onto the sand, and instead use its momentum in one cantilevered swoop to haul the piece of baggage onto the roof of the carriage to my left. There I stand now, waiting for him to sit down first.

Dm

The roughness of his hands combined with the strength of his pull confirms your previous assessment. The man eyes widen in shock as he witnesses your acrobatic display, he quickly regains his friendly composure as your bag lands deftly on the top of the carriage nestled nicely in between his own belongings.

Although his glasses covered eyes initially seem to admire your facial features your current proximity causes his head to shift lower. Since you were quite openly displaying your wares for him he shamelessly continues to gawk at your feminine curves. When it seems his lustful appraisal completes he speaks again.

"The name's Joe, Joe Fetcher. And who do I have the distinct pleasure of meetin?" he asks relatively politely. His hand is held out before him with the palm facing upward.

"Bianca"

Whom indeed? Sticking to the same name for extended periods of time has proven detrimental in the past. Rumors tend to spread, and people tend to remember them at the most inappropriate of times. Stories attached to a name, not all of the resumee building sort.

So I take half a step back giving his hand room to actually extend towards me – quickly checking with a turn of my head that I am not about to fall off the coach by doing so – before my palm connects with his, fingers closing around him in a soft grip. And even though I look straight at him I do not mind that he is distracted while I reply with th first thing that comes to my mind "Name's Bianca Thomas".

Dm

Joe's much larger hand encompasses your own. His touch lingers on you as he gropes the softness of your skin.

"Pleased to meet you, it's not often I get to see a beautiful lady in these here parts." He comments with a sly smile.

Suddenly you hear a loud banging noise emanating from within his carriage. Joe's eyes turn angry as his attention turns toward his toward the noise.

"Quiet in there! else I'll come down there n beat you silly." He exclaims with a loud bash upon top of the roof. He turns back toward you with a friendly smile, this time you can see that he is missing a fair few of his front teeth and the ones that remain are an unhealthy colour of yellow. His breath reeks of rot with the slight hint of alcohol.

"Don't worry bout that sugar, it's just something I picked up along the road. Now why don't you sit your pretty behind in that spot right over there while I get this thing moving again." He offers. Joe leans down and picks up the crossbow and quiver of bolts and places it on his own side before sitting down himself.

"Bianca"

Something he picked up on the road …

My mind starts racing as I try to buy time by almost mechanically following his suggestion, half turning and gripping the roof for support with one hand as my firm round buttocks slowly descend until I can feel the seats hard wood underneath me.

What the heck does that Joe fetcher have in the back of his carriage? Could just be an animal, but I have my doubts. The way it reacted to his shouting was a strong indicator that whatever it was, it understood Joe. Limiting the possibilities quite a bit.

But even so, why should I care? Me getting involved in the affairs of others – and getting into a lot of trouble along the way – seems to be a recurring theme in my life. Somehow I have this weird problem of not being able to look away when it would be appropriate… At least I could try to find out who or what it is.

When Joe finally has sat down again, I therefore put up my sweetest smile, and turn towards him, inquiring in a soft voice “Would you mind telling this girl what a cute thing you have back in there?”

Dm

The seat you plant yourself down on isn't really an extra seat, it seems to be only what Joe hasn't taken up which means your body is quite snugly tucked by against his own. Joe gives you a knowing smile at your question then turns his eyes back on the road, before answering, he commands the horses in front to begin moving.

"Hyah."

The carriage lurches forward and the horses accelerate into the steady pace. In your elevated position the dust of the road doesn't seem to reach you anymore.

"How about we play a game first, you give me something and I'll give you something." He offered slyly.

"First tell me why a pretty young thing like yourself is traveling all alone." He asked.

"Bianca"

I try to shift to the side as much as possible without actually falling off the seat, but there simply is not enough room to ease the pressure much with which our thighs and shoulders are pressed against each other. Joe over there surely does not mind.

So I finally settle on leaning forward, my elbows lightly resting on my knees. This does cause my breasts to strain even more heavily against their confines, but on the other hand my upper arms partially obstruct the view on them.

Pondering the coach driver’s suggestion for a few seconds I finally turn my head to look at him and with a grin I reply. “Sounds like a fair deal. But since I asked first it’s only fair I get my answer first as well, ain’t it?”

Dm

Joe does absolutely nothing to aid in your struggle to get comfortable. From his position he seems completely content with your closeness. With his eyes behind dark sunglasses there is no way for you to tell exactly where he is looking and what he can see.

The carriage buffets against the loose stones of the road, the soft seat cushions the bumps making the ride not entirely uncomfortable. A soft warm wind blows in from the other side and you get a strong whiff of uncleaned masculine body odour mixed with the faint hint of alcohol. The disadvantage of your enhanced senses is that even the less desirable sights, smells and sounds are magnified.

Joe chuckles deeply to himself at your retort. He retrieves a small flask from his side and presses it to his lips, a small amount of escapes his mouth which he promptly wipes with his sleeve.

"The way I see it darlin is I'm the one giving you the free ride, so I'd say I'm already one up on ya." He comments smugly. Reaching over slightly he offers you the flask he recently drank from.

"Would you like some? Don't worry it wont kill ya, unless of course you drink too much of it." He offers. His covered face make it extremely difficult to read any truth behind his words.

"Bianca"

"No thanks" I lift one hand palm facing him as I decline as politely as possible. "I have stopped drinking that hard stuff. Doesn't do me any good." There is actually some truth behind this, I do not take too well to alcohol, for whatever reason.

"But all right..." my shoulders slump slightly as I look away from him and towards the road ahead, my gaze starting to become empty as I try to come up with a good and believable story on the fly. "... guess you win." Still not re-establishing eye contact I continue. "I know it's not really safe for a lone girl out here, but back in Ember Creek" my thumb jerk up to point over my shoulder towards the settlement I had visited a few days ago "there were a few guys who were dead set on turning me into their personal whore. So better risk the road than face certain rape..."

Once I have fallen silent I finally turn to look at Joe once again, my smile wiped away to make room for a far more somber expression.

Dm

Joe pulls the flask back and takes another swig. With the satisfied huff he stows it beside him again.

After listening to your story the brow of Joe's eyes rise as the mention of whore. His face displays a questioning look as he appears to be pondering the truth of your tale.

"You'll have to forgive me darlin, but seeing as how you leapt onto my here carriage like a sexy lioness I find it a tad difficult you would have trouble with a few guys. Either way, we all have our secret's and the reasons are yours to keep." He stated confidently.

"As to my cargo, you know all the stories parents tell their kids to get them to stay indoors at night. The one about mutant creatures that prowl the deserts at night." He began a story telling voice. He leans in closer to you, his head only a fraction away from yours.

"Not all of em are stories." He whispers with a sly smile. As if on cue you hear the banging noise from down below again.

"I said quiet!" Joe exclaims with a loud bang of his own on the top of his carriage. The noise stops again and you can only hear the rumble of the carriage pottering along.

"Bianca"

“As if a few cartwheels would impress that horny bunch…”

I do, however, let Joe pull off his dramatic show, even managing not to flinch as his face – and with it the assorted bodily odors – draw closer and closer until our noses almost touch and I can acutely scent sweat and alcohol.

At his revelations my eyes go wide and I instinctively draw back a few inches. “You don’t say…” I reply in somewhat exaggerated surprise, studying him silently for a few seconds that are only interrupted by the noises from behind and the bang on the carriage top.

Ever so slowly I let the signs of shock drain away from my face, my eyebrows coming together closer in a gesture of concentration. “Do you think …” I finally begin, one index finger absent mindedly touching my lower lip “… I could have a look at it?”

Dm

Joe breathes in deeply at your request no doubt taking in your feminine scent.
He hums in response and then turns his attention back to the road. You see his lips curl in the forest of his beard as he thinks over your question.

With sharp pull of the reins Joe pulls the carriage to a stop. The sudden deceleration causes everything to lurch forward and back again. Joe looks at you again his face now showing a sly grin.

"Since we are in the mood for trade. What would you be willing to give me to show you such a unique and rare sight?" he asks with his eyebrow raised.

"Bianca"

Instinctively my arms come down and my fingers close around the edges of my seat as the carriage lurches to a very surprising and also very abrupt halt, which helps me to stay in the seat and not get tossed forward onto one of the horsebacks domineering my vision. And once my back has snapped back and is once more resting against the wood of the cabin behind me, I have time to brush back the wild strands of hair that dropped into my face and observe Joe as he offers his proposal.

"Well..." I finally speak, my grin easily matching the slyness of his "... if you show me what you have back there, and it is a mutant, and it truly is as unique and rare a sight as you claim ..."

Slowly my right hand creeps up along my side until it rests on my abdomen, right beneath my two protruding assets. Once there one finger begins to play with one of the cloth ends that protrude from the knot tied right in the middle beneath my massive breasts, playfully twirling it.

"... if you do that" I finally continue "then I will grant you a rare and unique sight as well ..."

Dm

As your hands travel up your body and play with the material keeping your shirt together Joe pulls the sunglasses off his face to get a better look. The skin underneath seems course from perhaps years of hard labour under the radiation enhanced sun. From the top of his right brow down across his eye and below you see the remnants of an old scar.

What catches your attention further however, is the brilliant gold of his eyes, the intense radiation that had plagued the planet since the aftermath had caused several genetic mutations amongst the general populace, it seemed Joe was one of the recipients.

Without the coverings over his eyes you can see his expressions much better. His brows furrow and his mouth curls an even deeper smirk as he seems to be thinking about your offer. Without answering, Joe looks over to his side, retrieves his crossbow and loads a bolt. He eases himself of the seat and deftly climbs down from his side. Once below he turns back and looks up at you, with his free hand he offers you aid in an unspoken question to follow him.

"Bianca"

The eyes – the piercing golden orbs shining through between his lids – catch me by surprise, and immediately I shy back an inch or two, my hand freezing for a moment in its playful rotation. So Joe her has also been blessed by the radiated haze. Or was it a curse in his case? I wonder what exactly his mutation enables him to do. Asking now would definitely be rude, but my guess is it is not X-Ray vision, otherwise he would not need to accept my deal.

Ending my musings for now my arm extends and I take the offered hand as I step off the seat myself. My descent to the ground is far slower and more controlled than my spectacular rise minutes ago, and after two steps in the footholds on this side of the wagon I finally stand in the sand next to Joe, looking at him wordlessly, arms hanging idly at my sides, as I wait for his next move.

Dm

Joe takes a quick look around, the road ahead and behind appears to be clear. Minimal foliage lines the ground and the land is mostly open and flat.

"Stay close to me darlin, wouldn't want you to get hurt or nothin." He cautions.

Joe raises his crossbow in front and proceeds to the back end of the carriage. With his free hand, he unlocks the bolt mechanism and slides it across. The doors creek as he eases them open allowing the morning light to creep through.

The inside is empty save for a human sized cage sitting in the darkened corner of the carriage. You can barely make out the shape of a humanoid looking creature, its body is covered in mangy looking fur and it appears to be a mix between man and wolf. It glares at Joe menacingly but then softens as it notices your presence, despite it's animalistic appearance you can see a high level of intelligence reflected in the red glow of its eyes. Suddenly the creature lurges forward, its claws grasp the bars of its cage and it snarls openly. Even though the cage seems tethered to the inside you can see it straining against the brace points with the feral rage pouring out.

"Back off!" Joe warns as he raises his crossbow. The creature understands immediately and does as instructed. Joe reaches inside his pocket but never takes his eyes off the cage. He pulls out a small pea shooter and only using one hand loads the small weapon. With the implement at his mouth he takes a heaving breath and releases a small dart that accurately imbeds itself in the monster's fur.

"I think the last one wore off a while ago." Joe explains. Sure enough, the tranquiliser takes effect and the creatures eyes slowly roll back as it collapses within its prison.

"Bianca"

My nerves are immediately on fire the moment I see the creature, my survival instincts reflexively stepping into action to be ready for an assault. Which never comes, thanks to the cages strong bars. Nevertheless the tension does not leave my body until the tranquilized wolfman – or whatever exactly that creature is – slumps unconscious to the ground of his confines. As a bonus I got a first look at Joe’s blowpipe, some useful information to keep in mind for later.

“An interesting beast” I finally comment once things have calmed down, eyes still on the fur ball behind the bars, studying its outline. Finally I turn to look at the man again “Where did you find it. And …” didn’t take long for my curiosity to kick back in “what do you intend to do with it … him … now that you caught him?”

Dm

Joe returns the small pea shooter back in his pocket. Now that the beast was incapacitated again he also lowers his crossbow keeping it close to his side. A light breeze rolls in blowing a light spray of dust around the back of the caravan.

"More answers demand more payment little miss, speaking of which; I showed you mine I think it's high time you showed me yours." He reminds you with a playful smirk.