May Rising Ch. 03

Author's Notes: this chapter features girl on girl scenes.

Chapter 3: The Gutter of Omaha

In her dreams, Priscilla was riding the stars on a grand adventure. Everything was like she imagined, escaping Waterbury on a ship destined to go far from Earth. Slumbering atop a moldy pile of tarps in a gutter, the stray girl from Waterbury swam through the heavens of her sleeping mind. 

It had been a few days since she fled her hometown, had a regretful encounter with Theo the truck driver, and ran bottomless through the streets of Omaha. Since then Priscilla had to fend for herself with no money to speak of, and only a few personal items and the clothes on her back. She had scavenged through the streets for some time trying to find a place to hide her indecency. Eventually, she settled down in an alleyway amongst other strays in the gutter of the Great Plains Republic. She wondered if Theo the truck driver had been right about coming here. 

Soon a strange feeling would tug her back into the waking world. That tug was a dirty hand lifting her shirt ever so gently. Eyes fluttering awake Priscilla looked up to see a wrinkly old man. His clothes were in tatters and only a few teeth were between his crusted lips. His hand was on her shirt trying to inconspicuously take a peak at her braless tits. 

"Hey!" She tried to pull her shirt out of his grasp, some of the cold air tickling her nips as he managed to pull it above her perky a-cups. 

The old man growled toothlessly, despite his age he seemed to have considerable drunken strength. Priscilla's hands slid across his sweaty and dirt-covered arms as they struggled for the shirt. The old man nearly had it above her head when a stiff cane thwacked him across the back. 

Releasing her shirt the feral man howled and snarled. Priscilla fell back onto the moldy tarps. She was no cleaner than the hobo who was assailing her, her short blonde hair full of dirt, her skin soiled, and her clothes torn. She looked up to find another old man, this one with dark skin and a scraggly grey beard. The lights and technological trappings of the upper levels framed his looming figure as he glared at the other man. 

"I said dis one was mine!" The grey-bearded man whacked the other over and over with his cane. 

"This bitch ain't nobody's still you set to get some pork wet. Yew ain't got nothing out here! This is the streets bitch! I'm the man, ya, I'm the man gonna be doing it all up er', yeah yeah? You big guy gonna take care of It? Pussy a bit young for you?" The wrinkly old bumpkin hooted and hollered. His words grew more and more nonsensical. 

"Yeah yeah ya ol' coot, ya ain't no younger than me... Get gone now!" 

The pair exchanged insults for a time as Priscilla lay on her back and fixed her shirt. There was never a time in her life that she thought a pair of hobos would be fighting over her in an ally as she lay filthy. But life had a way of pulling back the curtains on eager dreams. 

"Thanks, Booker..." Priscilla sat up cautiously, her arm held against her shirt over her breasts. There was thankfulness in her tone, but distrust in her eyes as she remained cautious of the man leaning on his cane. He hovered over her with a grin. Booker had a fair few more teeth than the assailant, but it was far from a full smile. 

"What I tell you sweet thing, you shoulda been in my hutch last night. Lot less creeps gonna touch on you that way." He playfully tapped on her knee with his cane. 

"Oh.... I couldn't possibly intrude..." Her eyes shifted from side to side. There was no way in hell she was taking that loaded offer. She knew enough about Booker that nothing was free from him. 

The old man stood silently leering above her.

"I ain't showing them to you again." She glared up at him with her big bright green eyes. In exchange for the baggy utility pants she wore commando now, Booker had demanded a good look at her tits when they first met. After wandering the streets with her pussy out in the open it felt like a small price at the time. But since then she lost count of how many times he asked to see them once more. 

Booker whistled innocently as if she had accused him of a grave crime he couldn't possibly be guilty of. 

"Damn woman..." he rolled his eyes. "It's not like an old man can be heroic out here in the streets, saving the pretty girl and all." He held his cane nobly and pursed his lips. 

Priscilla gave him a coy look and bemused grin, she knew what he was about. 

"Plus, I got a good look at him when old Greg back there was pulling your shirt up. HEH!" His laugh echoed across the walls of the alleyway as Priscilla rolled her eyes and jumped to her feet. 

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder bitterly she slipped on a pair of scavenged flip-flops.

"Good-BYE Booker." Priscilla didn't bother to look back. 

Despite the situation she was in, the girl from Waterbury was not going to be defeated, and certainly not going back to that shithole town. Waterbury was dead to her. She would suffer the underbelly of this city and legions of old hobos to stay away from it.

"Aight sweet thang, I'll see you tonight. Remember you always invited to Casa-de-Booker, HEH!" 

Priscilla neither responded nor looked back. It was about time she found a new ally to crash in. 

—-

Far departed from the stories of her grandmother, her few short days in its depths had illustrated that Omaha was quickly going to hell. Priscilla could only count herself fortunate that she was here by choice, and not displaced by threat of war like so many around her were. Above her, she could see the bright neons and grav-trains enjoyed by the more fortunate. Her dreams of seeing the stars as foggy now as the toxic haze that separated the Omaha underbelly from the glistening towers above. 

As she wandered through the stinking streets she saw whole families huddled outside crowded shelters. The destitute begged passers-by for information on loved ones they had lost in their flight to safety. The whole city was ready to burst as the general mood soured. Soldiers patrolled the streets to try and keep the peace but were met with jeers and insults. No one respected those who represented a government that so readily disposed of the displaced like trash. Priscilla had a feeling their guns and weapons were meant more to keep those here contained than to protect them.

Priscilla observed the soldiers turning a blind eye to gangs of miscreants taking advantage of the situation. Through violence and extortion, they took every ounce from the displaced and helpless they could. No matter how long you stood in a bread line you were not guaranteed to eat any of it. Priscilla had tried and failed numerous times already. It was almost better to starve than have run-ins with the gangs. They ran these streets un-checked, despite the army's presence. 

"Stop marching around and get us our food!" A woman cried out at a pair of passing soldiers on patrol. Her soiled appearance mirrored Priscilla's, covered in blankets and with a hopeless expression. She shoved one soldier as she chanted for them to do their duty in protecting the food lines. But as helpless as the refugees who lined the streets were, the soldiers did little. The woman was simply shoved hard to her back. The crowd murmured their displeasure and snarled at the troopers. 

"Pigs!" Others cried as they threw filth at the soldiers. Sensing the deterioration of the situation, they quickly departed. Leaving behind little in the way of law and order. 

With one breath they begged for food and with another they cursed the government's name. Priscilla could taste the general displeasure for authority in the city, and it made her fearful of how much worse it would get. This city was on edge, and the looming visage of Martian ships between the towers only highlighted the climax to come. She needed to leave quickly. 

Yesterday she heard that the government set up a processing area a few blocks over. Rumor had it a select few refugees could get registered there, affording them access to a better district of the city. This meant possibly getting to the spaceport above and off world. Faintly she could see the glimmer of engines alighting through the fog as they ascended to the heavens. Hanging on to her last strands of hope she knew she would do anything to get onto one. 

The shouting and filth-throwing were becoming worse as the crowd got rowdier. Priscilla wanted to get clear before things became a riot. In her days on the streets, she had seen a few violent episodes and it was evident she didn't want to be caught up in them. If anything Priscilla knew her limits, and as a petite blonde, she was an opportune target for various forms of violence. The old homeless men in the ally she slept were one thing, but a gang of thugs would quickly make her their plaything. Priscilla had seen a few girls meet that fate already. 

To avoid the commotion she opted to take a more out-of-the-way route to where she heard the processing center was. It was far darker and dirtier than walking the main streets, but this way she could avoid unwanted attention. Donning the hood of an old tattered jacket she slipped away from the crowds and sloshed through the muck. Her face grimaced as she felt various bits of filth between her flip-flops and feet. Regardless, she resolved to push forward, anything to reach those stars that taunted her above. 

Trudging on, she reflected on how peculiar her dream was. She had no real goal other than getting off-world. What would she even do there if she made it? How would she make a living? Those details felt so far from her grasp given she couldn't even get away from the destitution of Omaha. Her greatest fear was that she would become a permanent part of it if she didn't harness her resolve. 

Kicking at rats and wiping the filth from her feet on a grated vent, she soon heard an odd bit of commotion up ahead.

"I told ya I got nothing! Nothing!" A female voice shrilled. Priscilla's sense of self-preservation itched to turn back, but she had come so far being an adventuring fool, why not go further? 

Peaking around corners she soon found a gaggle of persons wearing the standard gutter trash garb. A female figure sat on her knees surrounded by four ill-favored individuals, each as ugly and menacing as the next.

One greasy man in a pair of dark overalls held a pistol near her mouth. The neon light along its barrel lit the fine features of her face as he rubbed it along her upper lip. 

"Well if ya don't have anything for me, what are ya gonna do for me?" His suggestion ended with a cackle as he unzipped his fly. Holstering his pistol he whipped out another from between his legs, and from Priscilla's vantage point it looked as unwashed as the rest of him. 

"Eh? Go on." He swung it around in front of her mouth impatiently. The rest of his gang cackled. "Ain't gonna let you go otherwise." 

Priscilla crept up for a closer look. As angry as this situation made her given her recent run-in with the pastor and Theo, she didn't want to get caught up in this either. But neither was she about to turn around. The girl on her knees with a cock dancing in her face looked no older than she. Her skin was far darker and she had sharp beautiful facial features and an intense pair of grey eyes. Judging by the fact her clothes were intact and half-clean she seemed to have a bit more luck in the streets than Priscilla. 

Of course, that luck for this girl seemed to be running out as the man's penis slipped between her lips. Closing her eyes she seemed to accept her fate as his hips pushed himself further into her mouth. 

"Less teeth sweetie." He patted her cheek abrasively and tapped the holster of his pistol. 

"Think her other holes are as cute?" Another said as he pulled his weapon from his pants and stroked it in rhythm to the movements of his compatriot. 

"I think we'll have to bring her back to base to find out." Another said while slipping a hand under her jacket to feel at her breast. 

"You said I could g- mmmhhhgggmmm." The girl objected but was cut off by the forceful reinsertion of a cock in her mouth. 

"Sorry mama, you might be a bit too cute to let go, our last mascot didn't work out so we had to fire her..." They jeered as one grabbed the top of her hair. There was an odd emphasis on "fired" that sounded concerning. 

"Step back." A stern voice warned the four aggressors from behind. In the excitement of getting their cocks out a bold Priscilla had slipped the glowing pistol from the sucked-off thug's holster and pointed it at them. She had never held a pistol before, so it was a loose grip at the hip level that made her look a little too casual. 

"Back I said!" She ventured a yell as cocks slipped out of lips and the four previously lustful and gitty men had soured expressions. Each held their hands up and tsked as they stepped slightly backward. 

"This one is pretty cute... I could give you a pistol to handle." They teased Priscilla as they felt only mildly threatened. 

For a moment Priscilla stiffened up and held the gun out higher as she aimed it at the head of the man whose cock dripped with saliva. Their expression tense as they wondered if she would even do it. 

"Get out of here!" She waved the gun with her hands awkwardly positioned. 

"Why don't you give me the gun sweetie and we'll get going." The unshaven Grimey smirk of the man who answered sent a shiver down her spine. The girl on her knees even looked a bit nervous as the uncouth blonde waved the pistol around. Not even she trusted Priscilla knew what she was doing with it. 

"Leave the pistol and get going now." A particularly strong response came from the wayward Priscilla. Her eyes ignited in a way they never had before as she suddenly felt powerful at the moment, a dangerous confidence creeping into her. 

"You even know how to use that thing?" He took a few steps towards Priscilla with his eyes on the gun. 

Crack

The piercing ring of the shot and the floored moaning of the man put the group on edge. Each let out some sort of expletive as they quickly stuffed their cocks back in their pants and turned to run. Priscilla had hit the man closest to her on the upper thigh, his screams in agony filling the alleyway to attention-drawing level.

"She almost shot my dick off!" He wailed as he held the gushing wound on both ends. 

"You're lucky." Priscilla's tongue snapped as she had a forbidding tint to her eyes. "That's what I was aiming for." She held the pistol high again as it felt warm between her fingers. She leveled it with his cock once more with the full intention of seeing him truncated. 

"Damn girl you dishin out the ups out here in the scrag like it's your party." The girl on her knees put a gentle hand on Priscilla's gun-toting wrist to stay her itchy trigger finger. 

"I think you taught him a lesson, poppin him in the piece ain't gonna do anything for you but catch ya a charge." Her grey eyes shot around the alleyway as she listened for what may be coming. "Besides I'm all good. Just a bad taste in my mouth." She spat out the grime the man had left her with back onto him. 

Priscilla looked dumbfounded at the girl, her Waterbury roots made her a touch unfamiliar with city slang. Her eyes glossed over trying to pick up what the other was putting down.

"You aren't from around here huh?" 

Priscilla shook her head, the bemoaning of the man bleeding on the ground grew louder. 

"Figures, we need to get gone though." The girl's darker hand grabbed the light skin of Priscilla's arm and tugged her quickly down the alleyway. At first, she resisted being pulled in the shock of the moment, but with a little coaxing, she trusted her newfound friend.

"Common I got a place to hide, the law doesn't like it when they aren't the only ones with heat, so you probably attracted a lot of attention." 

"Ok." Priscilla looked around nervously as she stuffed the pistol into her jacket. She let the girl drag her along the dark ally and around a few offshoots till they slowed down. They had been alone on the trail for some time before she stopped at a loose vent at the base of one of the highest towers. 

Reaching down the more curvaceous girl squatted at the hips. Her jeans let out a bounce in her rear while she took the vent cover off. This girl not only had much better clothes for such a horrible neighborhood, but she also had ones that flattered her as well. Something Priscilla was very curious about given her luck at finding a wardrobe. 

"In here, it's weird I know but trust me." The girl tucked herself into the hole and beckoned Priscilla to follow. 

Looking around she wondered if she had much else better to do. This girl certainly struck her curiosity so why not give it a shot? Bending down her small body slipped through the opening. On the other side, she found a cozy room fit to hide away from the troubles of the lower Omaha streets. 

"Like it?" The girl gave her the grand tour of the 60-square-foot utility room with a twirl. Aside from the breaker panels and risers that adorned the walls, it seemed the girl had a taste for eclectic urban art as various signs and spray-painted murals were scattered. The piping that ran below the floor and turned 90-degrees to the ceiling warmed the space to a comfortable temperature. 

"Found it a few months ago... can't beat the rent. Only had to blow the guy who does maintenance down here once or twice to stay."

Priscilla's eyes widened at the nonchalant attitude about such an act the girl had. She only had experienced a cock in her mouth once and given the nature of the act she wasn't in a hurry to get back to doing it. 

Sensing the discomfort with the idea the girl offered her hand to Priscilla. 

"I'm Phoebe." She said grasping the cold hands of the destitute girl.

"Priscilla." 

"So did an ex-boyfriend piss you off or do you try to shoot every guy you meet in the dick?" Phoebe sat down on an old car chair in the corner of her abode. 

"I mean... nuh... no... I haven't shot anyone before... but I saw what they were doing to you.. what they said they would do." Priscilla knelt against a concrete wall and looked at a "No Feeding Rats" sign that Phoebe had hung above her cot. 

"I mean... I won't say I'm not thankful for you getting me out of all that. But I was fine... not the first cock I was made to suck... or the worst." 

"Does that happen a lot out here?" Priscilla seemed further concerned. 

"You aren't from here." Phoebe seemed concerned for the girl as she looked at her oddly. 

"I'm from Waterbury. I got to Omaha about four days ago." 

"I ain't even know where that is but I know that's the country." Phoebe shook her head. 

Priscilla nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Why does a country girl like you want to come to Omaha? Especially right now?" Phoebe came and sat closer to Priscilla against the wall, her tone more tender and caring. 

Priscilla took a deep breath as she pushed back her short blonde hair. For the next half an hour she told Phoebe the whole story from the day she was asked to come to the Pastor's office, to Theo the truck driver, and finally to the old men in the ally. It was the first time Priscilla had been able to share her short but wild story with anyone and as she talked through the heavier parts there were more than a few tears.

Despite her sharp and even-keeled expressions, Phoebe felt bad for the girl, her hand on Priscilla's shoulder as she let her talk through all the events. 

"Damn..." Phoebe shook her head as Priscilla ended her tale. "These streets are going to eat a pretty girl like you up like a snack..." 

Priscilla looked down dishearted, she knew Phoebe was right and that she should have never left Waterbury. 

"That is unless you learn to use it." She added after a long pause.