CarnivalBarker
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 15, 2013
- Posts
- 5,591
(This thread is open to 1m character, and my idea is that whoever you play can be anyone.....cartel member, rogue policia, outlaw, or Chase. Basically, the idea is that the world is thrust into a post apocalyptic world, and cute, little Bridget finds it to be rather rough, hard, and scary, though perhaps there are small, happy moments too. Sex, noncon, coercion, romantic, whatever, are all possibilities. But whatever, PM your ideas to me, and I will pick a co-author)
"Bridget!" her mother called from downstairs, as the vacuum growled to a sudden stop. "Will you get your bag out of the floor?" The college freshman rolled her eyes and stomped downstairs in her plaid boxer shorts and tank top, grabbed her backpack, and trudged back up to her room, tossing it back down on the floor next to her bed before crawling back under the covers to go back to sleep on this rainy Saturday morning. She thought how glad she would be when she moved into the dorms in two weeks and got out from under mom and dad's annoying gaze and moved into a larger city away from this tiny town in dusty West Texas. She had grown up living nowhere but here, and as wide open as the spaces were, the vast open landscape served to put a crushing weight of claustrophobia on the town she had always known and left no room for her anymore. She needed to leave, to get somewhere that adventure could be found, where she could live her own life and chase her own dreams, free of the confines of her tidy little life as the daughter of the man that owned the largest auto dealership between Amarillo and El Paso. Bridget Baker had wanted for nothing, and now she simply wanted to leave.
No sooner had she begun to doze off once more, her phone rang. "Unnnh," she whimpered as she grabbed it from the bedside table and pulled it under the comforter to read the name of Chase Blalock, the guy that might be the closest thing she had to a boyfriend. Chase was three years older, and likely was only allowed to spend time around her because their families had known each other. When Chase's parents and sister had been killed in a car accident his junior year, he had dropped out of school to go to work in the Permian Basin oil fields. Though he had done well for himself, he was the very definition of a roughneck, with a massive build formed from the hard labor of working on a rig. In addition, he had developed something of a drug problem that he hid, until random tests at work exposed it and cost his job.
"What do you want," she whined, putting the phone to her ear.
"I need inventory," he said. She groaned again.
"No way," she replied. "I told you that I'd only do it the one time." After she had graduated in May, Chase approached her when they were both at the same rave. He had found her rolling on acid, and the two ended up crashing in a nearby twenty four hour restaurant booth until they came to early the next day. When they awoke, Chase drove to his dealer's house before dropping her off at home. There, she learned he was in serious debt and that his solution was to deliver massive amounts of cocaine and marijuana across the border from the dealer's link to the Zetas cartel. The job was simple, go to Mexico, get a package, and deliver it back here. Chase knew the guards on both sides of the border would wave through a pretty blonde before they would pass him through looking like the near junkie he was. She agreed because the dealer told them both that he would have Chase killed if he didn't get the job done. Two days later, they made the simple day trip, collected the drugs at an abandoned bus stop, and returned home with no incident, even though the United States agents acted as if they would not let a single car simply pass. As she approached the gate, the agent looked at their passports and waved them on. She had never been so scared.
"Come on, Bridget, just one more time. I need two deliveries to be up to balance, and my sister is getting one of those for me, but you can't cross repeatedly without suspicion. We haven't been there in four months."
"Chase, no." She tried to hold firm.
"Bridget they will kill me. They are going to tie me up, and they are going to fire a chain saw up in my ear. They are going to use it to saw through me from my shoulder and down across my chest until I fall over in my own lap!" She shuddered at the thought, and also knew that the cartels and their syndicates were nobody to mess with and that reports of such things were more common than most in the lower 48 ever knew. She sighed.
"One more time," she said. "And never again."
"Okay," he said. "I will be there in an hour."
An hour later, Bridget had put on some khaki shorts and a pink tank top for the hot ride, hoping to get a bit of sun with the top down on her convertible mustang. This is a terrible idea, she thought to herself. I cannot believe this is happening. As she came downstairs to put on her blue Keds shoes, the television began to warble with a breaking news report from Brian Williams, signaling the news about to be told was pretty significant.
Ladies and gentlemen, the AP has confirmed at this hour that a massive detonation, and that is the word we will use - a detonation, of some form of atomic weapon has occurred somewhere South of Shimla in the nation of India. This appears to be the first of its kind since the United States used such weapons at the conclusion of World War II. India is an ally of the United States, and a nuclear power itself and it sits on the border of Pakistan. This detonation appears to be less than 100 miles east of that country's border and threatens to thrust the world into significant conflict.
Just then, the doorbell rang. As she opened the door, Chase stepped in and said hello to Bridget and her parents, who were locked onto the coverage of the news. She pushed him outside as she grabbed her purse. "We are going to the art fair downtown," she told her parents, not coming up with any other reason she and a rather suspicious guy might be gone for the next six hours.
"Get back before dark," her dad said, his tone one of anxiety and fear as he only momentarily pulled away from the news before returning his attention to the apocalyptic reports on TV. She raced toward Chase's car.
"Let's get there and get back," she said, rushing him off the porch.
Two hours into their three hour drive, they had passed into Mexico without incident, and found themselves on an open road, headed into a tiny town an hour away in one of Mexico's many capitals of poverty, where the drug trade propped up a few wealthy citizens that served only as links in the cartel networks. As they drove, the car radio suddenly droned to a stop as if the car battery had died, and the car rolled to a stop after Chase pulled it to the side of the road.
"What are you doing?" Bridget asked.
"Car's dead," he said.
"It cannot be dead."
"It is," he replied, trying to start it and getting no reaction from the car. No other cars were in sight. The girl grabbed her phone, and found it dead as well.
"My fucking battery is dead," she said.
"Mine is too," Chase began to look concerned. "We're stuck here."
A hemisphere away, China's leaders were sending a fleet of warships toward the Pacific coast. In an effort to prevent United States influence over the new raging conflict, it launched a nuclear missile of its own over the Arctic sea to detonate outside the atmosphere near the border of Washington State and Canada. From Seattle, through the rest of the United States and into central America, the entire grid system shut down. When it did, anything electric ceased to move or work, and cellular service instantly shut off. The two travelers did not know how alone they were. They only knew they were in Cartel country, in a foreign nation, and had no way to get home. They would soon learn of their dilemma as the sun ravaged the sky, and eventually darkened the earth as it fell to the East to see the beginning damage the new war had caused.
Bridget:
"Bridget!" her mother called from downstairs, as the vacuum growled to a sudden stop. "Will you get your bag out of the floor?" The college freshman rolled her eyes and stomped downstairs in her plaid boxer shorts and tank top, grabbed her backpack, and trudged back up to her room, tossing it back down on the floor next to her bed before crawling back under the covers to go back to sleep on this rainy Saturday morning. She thought how glad she would be when she moved into the dorms in two weeks and got out from under mom and dad's annoying gaze and moved into a larger city away from this tiny town in dusty West Texas. She had grown up living nowhere but here, and as wide open as the spaces were, the vast open landscape served to put a crushing weight of claustrophobia on the town she had always known and left no room for her anymore. She needed to leave, to get somewhere that adventure could be found, where she could live her own life and chase her own dreams, free of the confines of her tidy little life as the daughter of the man that owned the largest auto dealership between Amarillo and El Paso. Bridget Baker had wanted for nothing, and now she simply wanted to leave.
No sooner had she begun to doze off once more, her phone rang. "Unnnh," she whimpered as she grabbed it from the bedside table and pulled it under the comforter to read the name of Chase Blalock, the guy that might be the closest thing she had to a boyfriend. Chase was three years older, and likely was only allowed to spend time around her because their families had known each other. When Chase's parents and sister had been killed in a car accident his junior year, he had dropped out of school to go to work in the Permian Basin oil fields. Though he had done well for himself, he was the very definition of a roughneck, with a massive build formed from the hard labor of working on a rig. In addition, he had developed something of a drug problem that he hid, until random tests at work exposed it and cost his job.
"What do you want," she whined, putting the phone to her ear.
"I need inventory," he said. She groaned again.
"No way," she replied. "I told you that I'd only do it the one time." After she had graduated in May, Chase approached her when they were both at the same rave. He had found her rolling on acid, and the two ended up crashing in a nearby twenty four hour restaurant booth until they came to early the next day. When they awoke, Chase drove to his dealer's house before dropping her off at home. There, she learned he was in serious debt and that his solution was to deliver massive amounts of cocaine and marijuana across the border from the dealer's link to the Zetas cartel. The job was simple, go to Mexico, get a package, and deliver it back here. Chase knew the guards on both sides of the border would wave through a pretty blonde before they would pass him through looking like the near junkie he was. She agreed because the dealer told them both that he would have Chase killed if he didn't get the job done. Two days later, they made the simple day trip, collected the drugs at an abandoned bus stop, and returned home with no incident, even though the United States agents acted as if they would not let a single car simply pass. As she approached the gate, the agent looked at their passports and waved them on. She had never been so scared.
"Come on, Bridget, just one more time. I need two deliveries to be up to balance, and my sister is getting one of those for me, but you can't cross repeatedly without suspicion. We haven't been there in four months."
"Chase, no." She tried to hold firm.
"Bridget they will kill me. They are going to tie me up, and they are going to fire a chain saw up in my ear. They are going to use it to saw through me from my shoulder and down across my chest until I fall over in my own lap!" She shuddered at the thought, and also knew that the cartels and their syndicates were nobody to mess with and that reports of such things were more common than most in the lower 48 ever knew. She sighed.
"One more time," she said. "And never again."
"Okay," he said. "I will be there in an hour."
An hour later, Bridget had put on some khaki shorts and a pink tank top for the hot ride, hoping to get a bit of sun with the top down on her convertible mustang. This is a terrible idea, she thought to herself. I cannot believe this is happening. As she came downstairs to put on her blue Keds shoes, the television began to warble with a breaking news report from Brian Williams, signaling the news about to be told was pretty significant.
Ladies and gentlemen, the AP has confirmed at this hour that a massive detonation, and that is the word we will use - a detonation, of some form of atomic weapon has occurred somewhere South of Shimla in the nation of India. This appears to be the first of its kind since the United States used such weapons at the conclusion of World War II. India is an ally of the United States, and a nuclear power itself and it sits on the border of Pakistan. This detonation appears to be less than 100 miles east of that country's border and threatens to thrust the world into significant conflict.
Just then, the doorbell rang. As she opened the door, Chase stepped in and said hello to Bridget and her parents, who were locked onto the coverage of the news. She pushed him outside as she grabbed her purse. "We are going to the art fair downtown," she told her parents, not coming up with any other reason she and a rather suspicious guy might be gone for the next six hours.
"Get back before dark," her dad said, his tone one of anxiety and fear as he only momentarily pulled away from the news before returning his attention to the apocalyptic reports on TV. She raced toward Chase's car.
"Let's get there and get back," she said, rushing him off the porch.
Two hours into their three hour drive, they had passed into Mexico without incident, and found themselves on an open road, headed into a tiny town an hour away in one of Mexico's many capitals of poverty, where the drug trade propped up a few wealthy citizens that served only as links in the cartel networks. As they drove, the car radio suddenly droned to a stop as if the car battery had died, and the car rolled to a stop after Chase pulled it to the side of the road.
"What are you doing?" Bridget asked.
"Car's dead," he said.
"It cannot be dead."
"It is," he replied, trying to start it and getting no reaction from the car. No other cars were in sight. The girl grabbed her phone, and found it dead as well.
"My fucking battery is dead," she said.
"Mine is too," Chase began to look concerned. "We're stuck here."
A hemisphere away, China's leaders were sending a fleet of warships toward the Pacific coast. In an effort to prevent United States influence over the new raging conflict, it launched a nuclear missile of its own over the Arctic sea to detonate outside the atmosphere near the border of Washington State and Canada. From Seattle, through the rest of the United States and into central America, the entire grid system shut down. When it did, anything electric ceased to move or work, and cellular service instantly shut off. The two travelers did not know how alone they were. They only knew they were in Cartel country, in a foreign nation, and had no way to get home. They would soon learn of their dilemma as the sun ravaged the sky, and eventually darkened the earth as it fell to the East to see the beginning damage the new war had caused.
Bridget: