Exile

This is a fictional world that, while close in some way to our own sad reality, is different in others. It is far beyond our world, where men can compete as women and the apparently clueless woke demand that we give up our own rights and principles to make them happy. Where stop oil demands, we give it all up without having a clue what we replace oil products with. A world where my son had to write a letter of apology to a wall, because he threw a clod of dirt at it. A world where students beat up teachers because there is no means to discipline misbehaving children anymore.

I wondered what would happen if innocent actions were considered crimes and how guilty people would be punished if prisons were seen as unfair. There is sex, but the story is more about trying to find a new place in a world that's gone utterly insane. Any real-life individuals are used in a purely fictional sense.

If you don't like, don't comment, if you're woke, definitely don't comment, but if you enjoy it, feel free to comment and if you want to use the concept or the world for other stories, feel free.

Note: Italics are used for internal thoughts.

******

Chapter 1

"Chairperson, have you reached a verdict?" The judge already had her opinion, you could see it on her hagridden features.

"We have your honour." Was that a smile?

"In the case of the People vs Charles Carmichael, how do you find the defendant?" Yes, it was a smile. Man, I was absolutely fucked.

"Count 1, on the charge of intentional disregard of a person's identity, we find the defendant guilty.

Count 2, on the charge of refusing to acknowledge a person's identity, we find the defendant guilty.

Count 3, on the charge of wilful interference with a person's right to protest, we find the defendant guilty." You'd have thought the judge has won the lottery as she smiled at the jury.

"Thank you, members of the jury, for your service. You are dismissed." Then she turned on me. This wasn't going to be pleasant. Mr Carmichael, it is the opinion of the Court that you show no remorse for your heinous crimes. Therefore, I have no choice but to sentence you under the full extent of the law.

Mr Charles Carmichael. You are sentenced to exile. You will be taken from this court to recidivist colony in Alaska and may the being who identifies as God have mercy on your identity."

Exile, new America's idea of punishment. They were too afraid to punish anyone for fear they'd take offence, so they had fenced off Alaska and just chucked us all in there. The Supreme Court had ruled that identity was a matter of perception, not biology, and now we had dropped of the cliffs of insanity.

*****

I was driving home from work when the stop oil protesters had blocked the road. Politely asking the three women to move hadn't worked because one, despite her enormous breasts identified as a man and she took offence. So I apologised and asked him if he could move, but he took offence that I was trying to impose my identity on him.

So I got back in my truck drove up on to the shoulder and around the protesters. Apparently, this too was against the law, because I didn't sit there and let them protest. I'd just called them nuts when six police officers in their new rainbow coloured inclusive uniforms tackled me to the ground.

*****

My wife deigned to give me fifteen minutes of her time, to tell me that she thought I was a monster and she was taking everything in the divorce, including my parent's house. Where she'd be living with her new lesbian lover. My daughter, who was graduating next year, sobbed quietly. As they left, she mounted silently. "I love you Daddy."

Of course I was gagged and couldn't speak, exiles were forbidden to, Incas they offended someone else.

*****

Juno, Alaska. Day 10.

It was going to be my last trip. The truck would run out of gas by the time I made it back to my new home. Fourteen trips, loaded to the Max with unwanted pallets. By my count, I'd shipped five thousand pallets up to my claim since my exile. I had a full range of borrowed hand tools I'd retrieved from an abandoned hardware shop and even some from a museum. Like the pedal powered large, drill press and table saw.

Unlike other exiles, I had skills and planned to build my own cottage. Pallet wood was a good source of treated wood.

*****

Day 200.

I'd nailed the last shingle on the tool-shed when I heard the voice.

"Hello." Female. I hadn't seen or heard any since my arrival. Only a few bitter and twisted men.

"Hi." She was gorgeous and familiar, but I couldn't place her.

"Um... I don't mean to be rude, but could you help me?" A woman asking for help. How original.

"Depends." Her smile faded a bit.

"On what?" She was hesitant. I couldn't blame her. She was alone with a big bearded six foot five stranger, who was laying down conditions.

"Whether you're actually a woman?" She relaxed, actually serving relieved.

"I am a biological female." She stated proudly, as if it was important somehow.

"I assume you're an exile?" She nodded. I pushed open the door as collected my tools. "Kettles on... Mam, names Chuck." She stepped on to my deck.

"Maggie St Clair." My God. Maggie St Clair. Actress, model, bodybuilder and singer. 23 years old and she'd dethroned Gal Gadot as the most beautiful woman in Hollywood, well, at least in my opinion. Six foot two, White-blond, baby blues you could get lost in and muscles. She wore a plaid shirt, moleskins and a heavy jacket against the coming Autumnal nights. And I happily followed that callipygian ass through the door, locking it down for the night.

"Sorry, wasn't expecting guests." She laughed. God, she was gorgeous. She made Callie, my wife... ex-wife, look ugly.

"Don't worry, I like a man with tools. My grandfather was a carpenter. Makes a man look sexy." Shit, was she flirting?

"What are you in for?" I took to clearing up and retrieved a couple of enamelled mugs.

"I refused to do a love scene with a lesbian. She took offence." I handed her one.

"Sorry, only got tea. Coffee's too hard to get up here. But there's a Chinese smuggler who brings in tea." God that smile.

"It's okay. What about you?" How to explain.

"Two words. Charles Carmichael." Her eyes opening wide as she recognised the name. Taking a step, she planted a toe curling kiss on me.

"You're a hero. We all knew those charges were a crock of shit." I took a seat in shock. I had no clue why I'd made more than one fireside chair or built a four-bedroom cottage or family sized living areas, but I had. Sitting quietly in front of the crackling flames, I watched her. Maggie was every man's dream, a body of a goddess and face of an angel. And yet here she was telling me, a man fifteen years older, that I was her hero.

"Thank you." She smiled at the suspicion. "No, I mean it. You gave me the courage to tell my apparently bisexual husband and his lover to piss off. Not to mention stand up to all the crap they were forcing down our throats at the studio." Precisely at that moment, the Heavens opened with a thunderous crack of lightning and she jumped.

"Well, that's the end of outdoor work, then." I got up and started lighting my lamps. It's funny, after the government cleared out all non-natives a few years ago, you'd have thought there'd have been a lot more looting. Foods had been the first to go, claimed by the native tribes, then alcohol by the arriving exiles. Those poor white city folk, a lot didn't have a clue about survival and a lot died. The oil companies still supplied the miners and a few exiles had managed to get jobs there, but under the table.

The strange thing was a lot of the tools were still in the shops, nails, screws and other consumables as well. I'd even found a compound hunting bow and cross bow missed by panicking exiles. I guess the government thought if they left the guns, we'd do them a favour and kill ourselves off.

"Can I stay?" I spun. Her beautiful features were tight with worry. Shit. No way I'd turn anyone out in this kind of storm.

"Of course, I'll make up a spare bed." I guess deep down I'd hoped I'd find company, and it was why I built the extra rooms. "Sorry, they're pretty basic." I added, knowing a star like her was probably used to the finer things. Thunderous crashes echoed across the sky, causing her to jump straight into my arms. Pale from fright, she looked up into my eyes and right then I drowned in her blues. God, she's beautiful.

"Can... can... can I sleep with you?" What the fuck? Like any grown as man could say no to that. Tall, strong and confident as she appeared in her movies, it never occurred to me she'd be frightened of a storm.

"Um... yes... okay." I didn't want to seem overly eager. When, in fact, all I wanted was to rip her clothes off and fuck the shit out of her. Okay, so I'm not so civilised after all, but it's fucking Maggie St Clair. My room was large with a stone fireplace set with a small cast iron log burner. Yep I reclaimed quite a few things in building my home. The furniture I'd built, but the mattress I'd liberated from a furniture store.

In the glow of the firelight, I watched Maggie peel off her clothing. The glow shining on her peaches and cream skin, turning it into a beautiful apricot. Smooth hard abs rising from a smooth tight pussy to firm round breasts, pale pink nipples begging to be sucked, but it was her legs and ass that caused my audible gasp. Long, lean and muscular, they led to a perfect peach coloured ass. Images of her sliding down my now painfully hard cock filled my head.

"I don't have any night clothes." She apologised.

"Do I look like I'm complaining?" I quipped, undressing, although I left on my briefs in some misguided sense of chivalry. My cock was straining in virulent disagreement at this decision. She stepped closer. God, she's beautiful.

"Do you normally wear those?" Her voice was soft and husky. She let her hand stray along my thigh until a single finger ran the length of my shaft. I shivered.

"N n n no." Smiling, she slipped the waistband over my rock hard cock.

"Please? I want this. It's been so long." Her long, cool fingers slid around as she softly kissed my lips, her tongue slipping in. I could barely concentrate as she slowly fondled my cock.

With an unexpected shove, she planted me on the bed, sinking to her knees. That beautiful rosebud mouth engulfing my cock, sinking slowly down as she deep throated my entire eight inches. She didn't even gag or rise, instead her throat muscle began contracting in an erotic ripple that drove me over the edge.

"Maggie." I warned as she repeated the process. Deprived for so long, I let rip. Exploding down her throat. She pulled off in a powerful suck, taking every last drop. My god, the pleasure was almost painful. Sliding up my body, she planted a salty, sweet kiss on my lips. Her fingers having return to their dance along my now soft cock.

"My God Maggie... that... was... How?" She grinned.

"Research, I once played a prostitute. I like to really understand my characters. The girls I talked to taught me a few things. Like this." Her finger tips slid under my balls, tickling the soft flesh between my balls and arse before circling my hole. My cock stirred, then stood ramrod straight as she pressed in, sending waves of pleasure surging up the shaft.

"Fuuucck!" I forced myself upright, pushing my now rock hard cock into her dripping wet pussy. Returning the favour, I slid my hand across her taught butt and began to finger her arse.

"Mmmmm, she murmured against my mouth as pushed down hard on my shaft. Taking it as an invitation, I pushed a finger in... "Oooooh, more." She moaned as her pussy muscles began the same rippling contractions she did with her throat. Pushing in another finger, I could feel the hard pressure of my cock increase as I added another.

"Oh God Charlieeeee." I kept my three in as I began sliding her throbbing pussy up and down my shaft. Maggie began shaking as she neared her peak. "FUUUCKKK." My legs and balls drowning in a mixture of cum and her juices. She slumped against me, sweat soaked. Her lips nuzzling my neck.

"Oh God, I needed that." She... I was ruined. I'd never known sex like that and couldn't imagine I would again.

"Maggie?" She burrowed further into my neck. Her breasts pressing against my chest.

"Mmmmm?"

"What was this?" Her grip tightened, god she was strong.

"Need, loneliness..." She stood, her long legs carrying her off my softening cock. She looked down at me. "Charlie, it... I... don't normally... I just needed... to feel... wanted." Suddenly, she wrapped her arms across her breasts. "God, I feel like such..." I silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"No. You're not. You're a stunning goddess who just needed something primal. Needed to feel alive and I'm glad I could fill that need." Looking down at the rapidly drying mess on her thighs, she laughed.

"Well, you certainly filled something." Chuckling, I took her hand and led her to a different door of the main room. Pushing it open to reveal a floor of cobbled stone with a drain. Inside was a large wood fired washing copper as well as two large wood fired woks set into stone work. (I'd acquired the first from an early settler's museum and the latter from a Chinese restaurant in anchorage.

"My wet room. It's not a bathroom, but it's what I've got. I pointed to a back door. "Outhouse. I'll warm some water."

While she was gone, I lit the fire under the copper after filling it with water from a plastic drum I kept in the corner. The food grade drum contained filtered pre-boiled water from the nearby creek.

*****

Maggie

I couldn't believe what I'd done, I'd just fucked the brains out if a complete stranger. In a forest cabin. The outhouse was down a short corridor and contained a pretty modern composting toilet. Whoever Charlie was, he definitely had skills. Walking back in, I started to comment on the facilities.

"Pretty outstanding set up for a..." He was standing in the glow from the small fire watching the water. Tall and toned, he was muscle born of hard work, not a Hollywood gym. He stiffened, as we both realised what I'd almost said.

"...Hillbilly?" Shit, I've hurt his feelings.

"No.... I mean... um... Sorry." As steam began to rise from the water, he scooped out a bucket full and stepped closer. I stood as he used to a soft cloth gently wash me down. My nipples hardening as rivulets of the warm water began tracing sensual trails down my body.

"It's okay." Was all he said as he gently washed my thighs. My body responded as he ran the wet cloth across my pussy. Fuck. How had such a gentle man been considered monstrous enough to exile? Rising, he squeezed the warm water over my shoulders and gently kissed me. Taking the cloth, I began washing his chest slowly, working towards his now hard penis. I wanted him, but knew I needed to clean him as he had me.

As the water trailed his legs, I took his cock back in my mouth, this time just slowly sucking gently, exploring every part.

"Mmmmm." He grew harder and I could feel the throb of his quickening pulse. I sank down, sucking hard as he filled my mouth, swallowing each spurt until he was spent. Hands on my shoulders, he drew me up and guided me back to the bedroom.

On the bed, he slid his head between my thighs, his tongue flicking my clit, as his strong fingers began probing. Exploring my pussy, then he trailed them down, tracing around my arsehole as his tongue probed deeper into my now dripping hole. Unbidden, my hips rose against him as his thumb pushed into my arse.

"Morrrrrre." I moaned. Moving, he pushed my legs up, lifting my butt as he pushed that hard cock against my arse. I'd never had this, but boy did I want it. It didn't hurt, just pressure and then an explosion of pleasure as he slid balls deep. He gave me time before sliding back and driving in again. Over and over with growing speed and power, he fucked me, my body loving every pounding moment of it. The pressure, the sensation of it sliding in and out too much for both of us. I came in a body shaking orgasm as he erupted deep inside me. Sweat soaked we lay there, basking in the slowly subsiding pleasure. I drifted into an exhausted sleep wrapped in his arms.

*****

Charlie...

Maggie's angelic face was half covered with her White-blond curls. I'd always fancied her on the big screen, but up close and personal, you could see her beauty was bone deep. Everything about her was. I shifted the curl that was annoying her eye and her eyes snapped open. Ocean blue, they were oh so easy to get lost in.

"Good Morning." She gave a little satisfied smile.

"Good morning." I rolled out of bed, the planks cold beneath my feet. I'd have to do something about that if... God, did I just think about her staying? We'd been pretty intimate, but was it anything more than just carnal desire? Leaving her snuggled beneath the heavy bedding, I headed to set the various fires.

"Where are you going?" came her muffled voice.

"Warmth, bathing and food, a man has other needs he needs met beside sex. You know?" Was that a giggle?

"What's for breakfast?" Cheeky bitch. But I suppose it was a fair question.

Food had been a problem in the early days, it kept spoiling. So in planning the cottage, I'd built a basement ice room accessible by the outside basement door or by an internal stairwell. Yep, probably sounds unbelievable for an off the grid cottage built from stolen lumber and pallet wood. But I'd had nothing to do and no one to talk to for almost a year. And the out of gas overgrown digger abandoned down the hill had made the digging pretty easy. Mentally I inventoried my current stocks.

"How about wild pork and hash browns?" The potatoes were tinned, onions dehydrated, but the pig I'd killed a few weeks back.

"Thank god. I was scared you'd be a vegan or something." I shook my head.

"Nope. Card-carrying member of the meat and potatoes society." Not literally, but life was hard in exile, and my grandfather had always told me. "Charlie, when times are tough, cards mean life."

The man had raised me after my drugged out parents had dumped me on his Maine doorstep, when I was nine. He taught me to hunt, fish, garden and his second wife, a German immigrant, Greta had taught me to cook, preserve and be a gentleman. I only disrespected her once. Granddad told the doc I'd fallen out of a tree. The doc laughed and said.

"Learn to respect trees, especially the German ones."

*****

Maggie...

Tired and sore, I found hot water, soap and a towel waiting in the wet room. After last night privacy didn't matter, so I washed myself down as Charlie seared pork straps in a wok. Homemade hash browns sizzled in the pig fat. The smell was delicious. Dressing and going through to the main room, his voice followed me.

"There's tea in the kettle on the hearth." One thing about all the fireplaces, the cottage was warm. I wonder how we'll cope in the summer. Where the fuck did that thought come from? I mean, just met the man yesterday and after one seriously gorgeous fuck and I was thinking about staying. What the hell?

*****

Charlie arrived with a battered enamelled tin plate piled with still sizzling with crispy pork, golden brown hash and steaming beans.

"Whatever you decide, you need fuel. Walking or working, calories get burned through pretty quick out here." I speared a dripping piece of pork, biting in with a satisfying crunch.