Hog in the Ground Day

© PennameWombat February 2022

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is my (somewhat late) entry for the Literotica 2022 Valentine's Day Story Contest. It's a bit unusual, around that theme, but I hope you enjoy it. Secondarily, I'm also submitting it for the Pink Orchid 2022 for Women-Centric Erotica event, although I'm hoping to have additional stories for that.

Tags: Apocalypse, Bareback, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Post-apocalypse, Public Sex, Straight Sex

*****

Block 12

"Blow it out your ass, Gerry, even IF your cock got hard, it STILL wouldn't get anywhere near the best quim in the Block."

The statement was accompanied by two hands that pointed to a crotch covered by skin tight athletic shorts.

"Shit, Tati, I don't have enough quota on the printers for as many condoms as I want wrapped around it if it was going in THERE."

He pointed at the same spot.

"C'mon, Tati, he's desperate for it. You got time, you know we call him the 'minute man,' right?"

Hoots and cheers from a chorus of a group of men and women echoed around the gymnasium. It was otherwise empty with its bleachers pushed back against the walls.

"From what I've heard, Colly, the 'minute' part of that is an exaggeration, I'd be turned around and walking outta there before I even got in! You do it, you already got camel toe with your shorts. Probably deep enough for what Gerry has."

"Oh, punching below the belt!" Multi-part addition from the chorus.

"You forget the second part of my nickname, the 'missile' part. I'd need Colly's ass, not that yawning, overused chasm she's always showing off."

Snorts, laughs and cheers were cut short when a man walked through an open door. Like the others he was in a form-fitting shirt and shorts with grey-soled wood-court shoes.

"Hey, Capt," Tatiana said as she pointed at the new arrival, "which is the right part about Gerry. The minute or the missile?"

"Line up! Not my concern, Tati. You and Colly fight it out, loser fucks Gerry, after the match. Coach'll be here in a couple. Apparently he's got news on the final."

Laughter and disappointed grunts but the group obeyed and they all jogged to a red line painted on the floor at one end of the gym.

"Capt," Colly said as she nudged past another woman to stand next to the newest arrival, "what's this announcement? You gotta know."

"Ready? Quarter pace," the assured voice said as his group followed his lead to keep a perfectly straight line, "dunno, Colly. Despite ya'll thinking I sit with the high and mighty, no one tells me anything outside of this room. Reverse!"

As they hit the red line at the far end almost as one they jogged backwards in straight lines. The man with brown hair frosted white at the far end of the line spoke as they jogged.

"Can you at least get Colly to wear different shorts? Everyone in every Block can draw her twat from memory!"

"No, Bryan, from their nightmares!"

Colly raised both arms and extended middle fingers without breaking pace. "You morons can't appreciate art when you see it!"

The group hit the red line with rolling laughter.

"Forward, hold pace. It's called truth in advertising, 'least that's what I've heard."

A wave of laughter and Colly's fingers repeated their gestures with upward jabs.

"Advertising! Advertising!" The group, with the exception of Colly, chanted as they jogged.

"Reverse! Half pace! Advertising's the way to get business, just make sure it's straight."

"Lose the sock, Gerry! Not foolin' anyone anyways!"

"You got that water bra, Tati! No room to talk."

They hit the red line.

"Forward. Keep pace. Flirt on your own time you two."

The 'Advertising' chant was heartier despite additional dropouts from participation. They hit the far red line.

"Turn! Forward, keep pace!"

They spun almost perfectly as a unit and kept their pace. Their steps were audible but didn't thunder, even in the closed space. They hit the red line with only a couple of the group a half-step off line.

"Turn! Forward, half line, hard!"

The chant ended as the line staggered as each member sped for the half court line and used a few steps to bring themselves to a halt. At the far end of the gym, an older man in loose shorts and a collared polo shirt entered, followed by a younger man and woman, the former pulled a small equipment cart and the latter had a clipboard. They walked along the far red line and turned right when they hit the wooden fronts of the fully compressed bleachers.

"Half circle, stretches. Ya'll know the drill. All yours, Coach."

The older man nodded and accepted the clipboard from the young woman as he spoke. "Thanks, Winston."

"Hey, Coach! Who we beatin' in the final?"

"We've beaten everyone! Who's up for more punishment?"

A wave of laughter died quickly when Winston glared along the line. Colly twisted so her back was to the remainder of the group and looked at him and quickly ran her tongue along first her upper lip then her lower. He seemed to ignore her.

Coach made a quick show of reading the top page on the clipboard before he looked up and ran his gaze across the arc of bodies in various stretch positions. All stayed silent.

"I know no one's interested in hearing the news," he said, "so we'll just wait until..."

Winston smiled but other expressions ranged from surprise to incipient anger.

"Okay, okay," Coach laughed, "so you all want to know. Well. First, we get extra time, final's pushed off until the 14th."

"The 14th? Why?"

Coach looked again at his clipboard. "Apparently, Bryan, it's some sort of special day."

"Special day? February 14th ain't special!"

"Yeah, Gerry's right, first time for everything! Never been a special day or anything. Leap Day's a big deal, but no February 29th until next year."

"Only regular special day in the month is in ten days, Hog in the Ground Day."

"Yeah. February 2nd! Final was supposed to be the day before, then the big parties. Even if we don't have any hogs to cook in the ground and use the bones to predict the future like it was way back when."

"There are for-want-of-a-better-name-hogs outside," Winston said, "I've seen 'em. But only from far, far away. Last person got closer..."

"Hogs ate him!" The laughter at that was equal parts amusement and nervous.

"Was a her," Winston said, "but, same same."

"Well," said Colly, "we have something new we're growing in the labs this year for the 2nd... Maybe close."

"Consider the 14th a special day because we play," Coach said, "but that's not the only... surprise."

Winston glared at the crowd until they silenced again as questions started.

"It's who were playing. We're playing Block 12."

A wave of faces adopted deeply confused expressions as they looked at the speaker. Most swung to Winston, who shrugged and offered an expression that denied knowledge. Heads swiveled, and after a few confused sounds that weren't quite verbal, every face again settled first on their Captain then to the older man.

"I've never heard of Block 12, Coach, and I take it no one else has either."

Coach nodded and offered a sympathetic look. "Two hours ago, neither had I. Apparently it's on the far side of the mountains."

Bodies froze as each of the dozen stretchers halted. A few started to speak but none made it. Winston again spoke for the group.

"There's nothing on the other side of the mountains..."

"I've been promised all will be made clear, but here's what I have. There are Blocks over there, as many as our side. They'll be coming here, that's the reason for the delay. Travel time."

"Travel? Outside?" Tatiana's voice wavered. "Over the mountains? How?"

"All terrain buses, of some sort. Bryan, you're in transportation. Any word?"

"Uh, yeah. Prototype designs. Got one, 'bout half built. No one's even talked about who'll be taking it out, not ready for weeks yet. Could hold about twenty, full life support, filters, weapons... though, so..."

"So they're, whoever they are exactly, are bringing a couple hundred folks. Their own cheering section, officials for leadership meetings, and their team."

"They're going to cross the mountains in buses? Are there even roads?" Colly expressed doubt as a few others nodded in emphasis.

"I've scouted well up, even a couple of the shorter peaks," Winston said, "about as far up as anyone. Saw there seems land that way, but nothing clear, hard to go much further, need to carry food, water, air. No one I know of's ever crossed all the way. At least, no one who did's come back. There are, well, road is a bit of an exaggeration, after this much time. Some of them, maybe once, were like what's in the movies. But now, they might send, what, uh, bulldozers?"

"Yeah," Colly said quickly, "they were bulldozers." Bryan shrugged as she glared at him for an instant.

"Yeah," Winston said, "those. Use a convoy, that's the old word. Support each other."

"But, Capt, Coach," Tatiana's face swung between the two faces, despite the former's extra couple of decades both were firm, "why don't we know anything about this... Block 12? It's been... so long. And if they've always been over there?"

Winston's expression was kind, but offered no answer. Colly's glare at her teammate was hard, but quickly devolved into matched confusion. Coach's voice drew everyone's attention.

"I'd tell you if I could, but we all know there are things... we don't know," Coach said, "all I've been told is they play by the same rules we do and that Block 12 has never been beaten. And a personal message from their mayor is that they don't expect that to have changed after February 14th."

"I hope Mayor Bartlett didn't take that sitting down," Winston said, "right?"

He looked hard at each of his eleven charges in turn. After an instant each hardened their gaze and nodded hard to him. After Bryan's response he looked at Coach.

"Our mayor's response was apparently, uh, appropriately firm. To be complete, the Block 12 folks will arrive on the 11th, but they'll be isolated in the West Wing. No contact until the game on the 14th, the gyms in that wing will be available to them and everyone else locked out. Then, whatever this special day is for the 14th, there'll be a celebration afterward, a new special day. Food, dancing, all of it. At some point, we'll return the favor and travel there, but no time set for that. And now you all know as much as I know."

"Go... there?" Tatiana spoke but her doubt was echoed in a number of other faces.

"If you have the gear," Winston said, "outside is fine. Just... lots of gear. That needs to work perfectly."

"I'll go with you, Capt," Colly said. Her voice was husky.

"Least your gash'll be covered by the outside gear, Colly," Gerry said, "although once this Block 12 team sees it, they might be so occupied throwing up, we'll win easy."

Colly's middle fingers were again fully deployed.

"All that's fine and well, but an important question, what about Hog in the Ground Day?"

"I'm told a general announcement will go out tonight, Bryan," Coach said, "that this year the 2nd will be 'sedate,' whatever that means. Colly, I got the impression what you folks have in the labs will be held back for the 14th. We'll have attendees from all of the local Blocks, in addition to whoever Block 12's bringing."

"For us," Winston said, "it'll be another training day. But for the 14th, we don't plan to be the losing team at the celebration, right?"

"Fuckin' oath!" Eleven voices shouted in unison.

"Janice, Timmy," Coach said, "let's break out the gear. I don't know what this Block 12 will look like, but we'll be at peak. I've adjusted our training schedule given the change in dates, you all have the email. However good they think they are, we'll be ready. For today, we're going hard."

"Fuckin' oath!" Fourteen voices shouted this time.

Warming Up

"Are they chanting... 'Block 12' out there?"

A trio of massage specialists worked on players while others pedaled stationary bikes as subsonic vibrations worked their way through the tons of concrete and steel that made up the Arena. A competing chant finally overtook the original.

"We've got some fans out there!"

"What's the use of a 'home' match if they've let everyone else send fans," Bryan grumped, "and most of 'our' blocks are chanting for our opposition!"

"Jealousy," a massage therapist said, "you guys've kicked everyone's asses around here for so long, they'll even cheer for green lizard people."

"Green lizard people?" Tatiana asked as a second therapist worked along her back.

"Yeah," the therapist said as she worked on Gerry's hamstrings, "that's the rumor about that crew in the West Wing."

"Uh, no one's seen them," Colly said as she pedaled, "even the camera feeds in that area have been blocked. They're not green."

"Huh," said Tati's therapist, "heard one had to go the hospital. Well, not exactly GREEN... but, well... they closed off a ward."

A door opened to let a loud cheer into the room as Winston led Coach into the locker room. The crowd's sounds softened as the door snicked closed behind them. Winston hopped onto the bike next to Colly and she smiled at him, which he returned quickly. She turned her face forward and kept her smile.

"Hey, Coach," Colly said as she pointed at the large monitor mounted on the wall, "when the hell are these Block 12 people---."

"Lizards," said Gerry's therapist.

"Block 12 people gonna show," Colly said firmly, "their space is still empty."

"Nine thousand, and not quite eight hundred in the stands," Bryan said, "and at least a few are cheering for our teams."

"Block 12 only brought their 'A' team," Coach said, "and us and them won't see each other until we walk onto the court. All the prelim games are our juniors and the local blocks."

"Hey, Coach," Cherise said from another bike, "we haven't seen any film of this Block 12 team. Not even stills. Have they seen us?"

"Yeah," Gerry said, "that wouldn't be fair!"

"I'm told not. We're both going into this utterly blind. The mayors from our blocks and these new blocks met for dinner last night and all went well, but that's all I was told, it was only the mayors and closest aides. It's the 'puters enforcing the secrecy."

"The 'puters?" Cherise's face scrunched.

"Cherise," Winston said, "we're people. We... mostly get to do what we want. But, well, we don't live in liquid nitrogen baths, do we? Don't have their sense of... humor. After all, some... one, had to know that Block 12 and those others were over there. And said nothing in all this time."

A few expressions conveyed thoughtfulness but Coach spoke quickly as he gave Winston a quick nod.

"We won't warm up on the main court. The 'A' teams from four of the local blocks will play the next two games, we'll use auxiliary court 2 to warm up. Block 12 gets auxiliary 5. They're on opposite sides, so we won't run into each other. So... that said, everyone gear up. Let's move."

"Fuckin' oath," Winston led his teammates in the shout. He slid off the stationary bike.

The timbre of the sound that filtered through the structure wavered as the silent screen showed the Juniors match ending in a draw.

"Kissing your sister," Colly said, "boring."

"How do you know that? None of us have sisters!" A wave of chuckles around the room as everyone adjusted their uniforms and made sure their shoelaces were optimally set.

"Things were weird in the old days," Colly said, "like cooking hogs in the ground and telling the future with their bones!"

"Howie," Winston said to one of the massage therapists, "turn the volume up on the telly."

The man obeyed. Everyone looked at Winston then at the screen as the vibrations from the sounds outside faded.

"... you, everyone. I hope you've all enjoyed the games so far!" A mellifluous voice, that of Dagmar Hendry, the usual Emcee for the Big Occasions, went silent as cheers rang around the arena and the vibrations kicked into high gear. He raised his left hand and the crowd went quiet on cue.

"But please, give me your attention! I know you're all anxious for the surprises that await. Without further ado, let me introduce the mayor of Block 6, Christine Bartlett herself."

The reaction was mostly polite applause with the odd cheer mixed in, as well as good-natured hisses from at least some of the other local blocks.

"Whoa, she's put her best assets front and center," Gerry said, "and she's got a quarter century on all of us!"

The mayor's hair was cut into the bob that she'd apparently been born with, there not being a single picture of it any other way in existence, its color one of the darker shades of the browns that were ubiquitous across the Western Blocks. She wore a high-collared light blue blouse that could've been a second layer of skin and a skirt that flowed around her hips but loosened as it fell down her thighs to just above her knees.

"Hmmf," Tati said, "bet they sag."

"Uh, that blouse have anti-gravity? They never sagged in any of her movies!" Howie said.

Tati snorted. But added a shrug.

"And why's she hiding her legs NOW? I've seen her in shorts, they're better than Colly's," Bryan said, "should show everything off for these green lizard people! And her ass is better too."

"You're blind," Colly said to a round of laughter. Bryan closed his eyes and mimed using a cane.

"Quiet," Winston said and the group obeyed.

"Thank you everyone," Mayor Bartlett said through the speakers, the arena's slight echo clear in the silence, "welcome to this most special of nights. I especially want to thank the Western Blocks for all sending their most enthusiastic folks! I'd like to especially thank the transport teams, never have the inter-block trains been so busy or so full!"

A round of applause, mixed with laughter and cheers rang around the space. A few people started a well-known work chant as the noise lessened.

"Rollin', rollin', rollin' the rails," grew until the whole crowd had it, "movin', movin' movin' the people!"

She smiled and let it go on for a moment before she waved and the crowd settled, with Block 6 giving a last cheer.

"You all know me, I like to milk the occasion," she said and let the resultant laughter run for a moment, "but tonight, I'll get to the point. You've all heard that we have cousins... cousins we've never met... in the Eastern Reaches across the mountains. Well, tonight that changes. These empty seats behind me will be filled in a moment. But first, let me introduce the mayor of Block 12, the until tonight undefeated champions of the Eastern Reaches, the Honorable Tregar Brenner."

A solid and broad man just a bit taller than Bartlett strode into the arena through the nearest ramp and turned to his left. The two mayors turned and shook hands before the new arrival stepped to the microphone, his hair full and long and pulled into a loose ponytail. A ripple of sound ran across the crowd, and was replicated in the locker room.

"His hair, it's...," Bryan said.

"Blond," Winston said.

"Is it dyed? Like Bryan...," Cherise said.

Bryan ran his hand through his short, frosted hair. "And your mom, Cherise," he said. She shrugged and nodded.

"Thank you, Mayor Bartlett," his voice was smooth, that obvious politician touch, but had an odd accent, vowels lengthened, but understandable, "for your hospitality. Allow me to thank all of the Western Blocks for welcoming us despite their upcoming loss."