Apocalypse Slaves Pt. 15

Apocalypse Slaves, Pt 15: John Lincoln Hancock

By: AlexClayton / Diesel Jester

***

Author's Notes: Yeah, I know, this has been a LONG time in coming... three years in fact. Sorry for the wait.

This story picks up after a thread that I'd left back in AS 07 in which Caine takes care of a little "Problem" that the President has with insurgents. As people have suggested from my poll that I left in AS 13, Caine needs a villain to compete against and the overall meta story does need to evolve. Thus, our new villain is born. This story takes place over the course of events from the end of AS 07 up to when AS 14 ends as the conflict between the Montana Militiamen and the Colorado Coalition is finished.

Chapter numbering continues from Part 14 for continuity purposes only and will end with this installment. Whenever AS 16 and further come to mind, they'll be numbered individually.

Model Inspirations:

Vina: Little Vina (5'0", Petite, Blonde, Adult Fetish Model)

Val: Faye Reagan/Valentine (Adult Model, using her pics as a dolled up pinup brunette than a redhead)

Natalia: Natalia Forrest (Adult Bondage and Fetish Model)

***

"Pardon me for interrupting your premature celebration, but I thought that it only fair to give you a sporting chance as you are new to this game... and you've been playing without an opponent, which is, as you may have guessed, against the rules."

-Anton Ego, Ratatouille (2007)

"For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me, it was Tuesday."

-M. Bison, Street Fighter (1994)

*

CHAPTER 141: Brothers of the Second Revolution

It took John Lincoln Hancock months to crawl out of the rubble of the collapsed tunnels beneath the Capitol Building from that fateful day that President Sullivan sent his personal hitman out to snuff out the Brothers of the Second Revolution before the revolution could even start. It took every bit of John's ingenuity to survive. He used every bit of resources that the BSR had squirreled away to access deeper tunnels beneath Washington D.C., pop in and out of old subway tunnels, go further down to get into passageways that would grant him some lateral movement. Keep moving, keep fighting, and never forget the bastard that nearly wiped his movement off the face of the earth. The name of the hitman in question was all that was on John's mind each day and night as he fought to survive deep beneath the city, clawing and scrapping to get free so that he could continue the BSR's work.

Caine.

Like the vengeful, hateful man of biblical lore, Caine came in out of nowhere and gunned the BSR down like dogs. Then, for good measure, Caine had set off explosives that destroyed their meeting room under the Capitol and collapsed the tunnel entryway under a ton of rubble. John will never forget the smug look on the outlaw's face as he smiled and tossed the detno pack in. Only having seconds to live and with a bullet in his shoulder, John threw himself down the old stairwell, diving into the underground access tunnels at the last possible second before the whole thing blew. The concussive blast, along with fire and rubble followed him down the stairs and out the tunnel access door, singing his clothes in the process. Then he'd just laid there catching his breath, knowing that he was alive for a reason. It was as if the creator had other plans in store for him. John took a moment to pick his way out of the initial rubble, find a med pack, and treat his wounds before beginning his long, arduous journey towards his nation's salvation.

When he finally emerged topside, he was in a basement of sorts. He could see moonlight out small windows high up on the walls shimmering in through the blue hue of the hab shield above. Needing to find out where he was at, John poked around the basement and even went back down some stairs into a vault area. Then his breath caught when he saw the semicircle of ancient documents within their glass cases as they slept nestled in their elevators beneath their respective displays up top in the museum area. The yellowed parchments were something that any true American should know by heart as they were the documents that founded their nation: the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.

He was in the National Archives.

John took this as a sign as, fixated, he stepped forward foot by foot as if the founding fathers themselves were calling out to him from across time. Then he stood within the dimly lit semicircle as if in a trance as he gazed upon the documents. His eyes fell to one particular passage on the document to the far left; the Declaration. "That whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it..." he read, softly intoning the ancient words. His eyes then fell down to the largest name on the list of signers, the very name of the man he'd been named after; John Hancock himself. Then he walked around the semicircle, gazing at each parchment in turn and coming to the Bill of Rights and the amendments to the Constitution. He looked at the 35 Amendments and just thought it fascinating how some amendments had been adopted and then later repealed over time to suit the needs of the people. It was a standing testament as to how much forethought the forefathers had and how the United States had survived to this day, even in the apocalypse.

His eyes fell to the 28th and 29th Amendments; separation of church and state through religious freedom and the presidential succession amendment. Both had been put forth by the 45th and 46th presidents but not really put into effect until the 50th president. Now President Sullivan, who was childless and looking to secure his own succession by birthing a bastard out of a slave girl, stood to be automatically reelected if he managed to produce a son. That was not what the founding fathers had intended, in John's opinion, as it put the nation back on track for a monarchy as ordained by a god. No, the founding fathers had intended for men, real men, to elect their leaders and for the system to allow such leaders to lose power once their terms were up. Men who knew what they were doing chose what would happen, not some ill-advised schmuck in the White House who gamed the system and used hitmen to stamp out dissent.

Hitmen like Caine.

John knew what he had to do. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the old vault and made his way topside. The fresh air filled his lungs and he felt rejuvenated. The moment lasted only a moment as he caught the headlines on a corner newsstand; 'President and First Lady celebrate birth of their son'. Another headline proclaimed that 'True Patriot Caine given Full Pardon.' John swore under his breath. He'd been underground far longer than he'd thought. Sullivan would now automatically win reelection until he was either dead, resigned, or his newborn son reached the age of eighteen to succeed him. What was more, that loathsome villain, Caine, was now a national hero. The people would need to know the truth about Sullivan and Caine. But, first thing was first; he'd need to find any remnants of the BSR that were still alive. Next, he'd have to secure some land, preferably outside of the city itself but within a hab, to begin rebuilding. Then, he'd need to find a slave-wife to birth a successor of his own in order to be taken seriously within the political circles. After all, any politician worth his salt these days owned a woman to do their part to perpetuate the human race.

His feet were moving on their own now as the plan formulated inside of his head. Before the sun began coming up over the horizon, he'd secured a couple of his stashes of weapons, tabs, and union credits and was on a train heading west. He got some much needed shut eye and when he was waking up, the train was pulling into Charleston, WV Hab. This would do. Despite being a very poor hab city, Charleston had survived... unlike what he'd heard had happened in Omaha Hab out in the Midwest where the shield had collapsed to let in lethal amounts of solar radiation early on. John first bought a paper to check the apartments that were available. Finding one that was reasonably priced and that would suit his initial needs, he put in an inquiry for it and then found a hotel to check into for the night. The next week he moved into the four bedroom furnished apartment and started remodeling it to his tastes; one room for his own, one room for his future slave, one room for a conference room, and the last one for an office.

Amid the renovations, after he got a new computer, John kept an eye on the local slave auction. Charleston's was next week. He frowned as he saw that one particular girl was marked really low, was nineteen years old, and hadn't sold in the past eleven months. This intrigued him and so when inspection night came, John went down to see this girl for himself. He dressed himself in his new suit and tie to look the part of a respectable businessman that he was going to be in his rise to power, and went down to inspect the prospective purchases. He found the despondent blonde moping in her chastity gear within her cage. He watched as she whimpered and whined as she tried to get comfortable. Unlike the other slaves who desperately tried to play with their breasts and their clits through their chastity bikinis, the blonde simply sighed as she was resigned to her fate. Yes, she'd work for him. He'd buy her tomorrow.

***

CHAPTER 142: Getting a Servant

Vina sighed with resignation as for the twelfth month in a row she was herded up to the auction block to stand with the other eligible women to be purchased for the sole purposes of breeding. The chains connecting her ankle shackles clinked and clattered with every step that she took up the stairs. Her wrists shackles had once again been bound behind her back, attached at the small of her back at a eyehook on the back of her gleaming silver metal chastity belt. The chastity belt matched the sliver metal bra that she wore that totally encased her small breasts. It looked as if she had a metal bikini on. Chains ran from the tops of the metal cuffs up to the metal collar around her neck. It was the same thing that she wore every day since she turned eighteen, only allowed to take it off at night when she was put to bed and shackled down spread eagled so that she couldn't touch herself. Such was the fate of breeding girls who awaited purchase in these parts; she was constantly kept on edge and would only know sexual release once someone agreed to buy her for the sole purpose of putting a baby into her belly.

She didn't even need the auctioneers to direct her to her place on the stage where she dutifully knelt to have the front of her collar latched to the metal pole there where she'd wait, last in line again, for someone to bid on her... if anyone bid on her. Vina stole a glance up at the auction board. Her beginning price had been lowered yet again and now that she was nineteen and in the system for so long that they were now willing to take wastlander tabs for her. She shuddered at the thought of some raider or traveling trader buying her and taking her out away from the civilized habs into the untamed wilds. But at this point, with only a smooth dildo inserted up inside of her from the chastity belt, she'd be willing to fuck anyone just to get her release.

The auctioneers walked by, doing their final checks of the twenty girls that were to, hopefully, be sold off today. Vina's straight blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was brushed off of her left shoulder to fall down the center of her back to make her somewhat more presentable. All she did was sigh dejectedly. No one had bought her for this long, why would this month's auction be any different? Still, the law said that the auctioneers had to try and to keep her pure until someone had bought her. She was in the prime of her life and her eggs have been tested as to be viable to continue on the human race. Thus, she was kept sheltered and free from roving hands and cocks ever since she came of age. The problem, however, was her petite stature. No one wanted a breeding slave with small breasts and narrow hips.

As the auction started, Vina sighed again. It was going to be a long morning for her as other, more shapely and younger women were bid on and sold before the deafening silence that would follow when they got to her just out of habit.

*

John had read the docket and perused the girls to be sold off in this month's auction the night before. The last one on the list because of her age and small body size was practically a steal. She'd been blacklisted medically because doctors didn't think that she'd be able to carry a baby to term. But where they lacked vision, John saw potential. She'd be the perfect little trophy slave wife with just a little bit of cleaning up; prim, proper, and with the Venus Implant that he got from his contacts over at Payne Pharmaceuticals, one of the last ones before they followed the President's command to destroy them all, he'd be able to round out her tits just a bit and get her hips to spread slightly more. That, and she'd be the dutiful servant, unable to resist any command given to her by him. She was perfect and would be the perfect submissive woman to stand behind him on his rise to power. Sadly, she wouldn't be wife material, he'd have to work on finding a suitable wife. But to start a family, this one would do.

He waited patiently in the thinning audience for them to get to the very last lot, which was Vina. John didn't bid right away as he wanted to see if anyone else was going to take the bargain basement price on her. No one did as the auctioneer called out for bids on her in an almost bored sounding tone. "Can I get a thousand Union Credits for this girl?" No one answered. John knew how this game would go. The auctioneer would lower the price on two more call outs before they'd pack her up for next month's auction. "Seven Fifty?" The auctioneer then called out after a minute's silence. It was a steep cut and John figured that they were getting desperate to get rid of this one. Who could blame them? A year on the auction block was uncommon, it took up a bed, and they had to spend resources to keep her in healthy, prime condition. Not totally unheard of, but uncommon. The bidding for the first few lots, the prime stock, had been fast and furious. The mid numbers from ten to fifteen went a bit slower but they did sell. John then watched numbers sixteen through eighteen go up and come down with mixed results, but they eventually did sell. No one bid on number nineteen and the poor girl was hauled off in tears. Vina looked so jaded that this might as well have been at another day at the office for her.

"Five hundred?" The auctioneer asked, now practically pleading. "Five hundred or best offer? Anyone?"

That was what John had been waiting for as he had limited funds at the moment and didn't want to spend more money than he had to. He casually held up his rolled up docket of today's auction for attention to his bid, trying not to sound too eager. "Eh... I'll give ya two fifty for her if ya want," he called out

Both the auctioneer and Vina blinked in surprise. Someone had actually bid on her for once. The auctioneer latched onto it as he eagerly pointed to John. "I got two fifty from the man in the suit here, anyone else wanna raise on that? No? SOLD!" he said quickly, banging his gavel down and not wanting to take the chance that John would change his mind.

John allowed himself a small smile as he strolled up to the auction clerk, shelled out two Benjamins and a Grant, and then walked over to the side of the stage where the auctioneer was coming down the steps with Vina on a leash. "Thank you, sir, thank you," the auctioneer blubbered as he handed John the leash and keys to her locks before he then vigorously shook his hand. "We'd been trying for months to get rid of this one and were afraid that we'd have take a loss on her to ship her to another city."

"Shipping costs that bad around here?" John asked casually as he jerked the leash his way to get Vina to fall in by his side where she now belonged.

"Ungodly..." the auctioneer bemoaned with the roll of his eyes. "They've shot up ever since Caine reappeared in these parts to harass businessmen on his silly little crusade to supposedly liberate the people... especially the womenfolk." He laughed ruefully. "As if women need or want saving."

"Right?" John laughed right along with him. This might be the sort of man to join him on his crusade to get America back to the wonder it had been before the Flare. He smiled as he looked over at Vina. "You don't need saving, do you?"

Vina was looking back up at him with such devotion that he might not need to use Venus on her. Then he dismissed the thought as he'd need her tits plumping up immediately to start lactating so that he could sell the milk for revenue. "I'm just happy that you bought me, Master," she said sweetly, resting her head against his arm and batting her baby blue eyes up at him like a little lost puppy.

"The girl knows her place. I'll be in touch," John smiled at the man before taking his leave. Vina followed dutifully behind him with more spring in her step than when he'd watched her ascend the steps for the auction. When he got home with her, he immediately took her back to his playroom. It was the first room he'd completed in the few weeks that he'd been in town. "This will be your room and where you will be unless I have need of you," he said after showing her the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, nodding to the full sized bed with a lot of tie down points in the center of the room. The windows had simple, yet decorative bars on them per the law and the walls were lined with hooks where he'd be able to hang various implements for their shared pleasure once he could spare some cash to buy them. As it stood right now, all he had were the metal chastity gear that she came in along with a few latches. The only other gear he had at the moment was a single milking machine so that he could start pumping her tits the moment milk started coming out.

"Are you ready to serve me in every manner of life, slave?" he asked her after he pushed her down to her knees.

"Mmmm... yes, Master," she said with gratitude in her voice and total devotion in her eyes. "I'm ready to do anything for you, Master.

"Good," he said, taking the hypo-syringe out of his blazer pocket. He grabbed the back of her head and made her bend forward. Then he moved her hair out of the way and pressed the device to the back of her head, just above her collar, right inside of her hairline. Vina moaned and shuddered as Venus took immediate effect. "I've just injected you with an implant that'll control your ovulation at my command. It'll also boost your baby making capabilities. Already you should be feeling extremely horny... more so than you merely being on edge all the time. Your breasts should be swelling up a bit and already feeling full and heavy. That's the milk production being initiated despite you not yet being pregnant."

"Haaaahhh... Yes... Master... Thank you, Master..." Vina breathed as she looked back up at him helplessly and started whining and whimpering. He could tell that her body was now begging to be fucked. He took her leash off of her collar then got the key to her locks from out of his pocket. He systematically opened the locks to allow her to move her arms again as well as allow her to walk without a hobble by dispensing of the chain between her ankles. Then he unlocked the chastity bra, taking it off of her to free her breasts. Her pretty pink nipples underneath poked up as they kissed fresh air. Vina moaned, her hands going straight for her tits as she cupped them and kneaded them for relief. Normally he'd punish a slave for doing that but in this case he understood the need, especially with Venus now controlling her system. The poor girl probably hadn't gotten off in over a year outside of maybe a wet dream or two. Finally, he opened the lock at the small of her back and gingerly helped her step out of the chastity belt, tossing it aside for now.