War of the Pussy Snatchers - Interlude 02

This is the second interlude set in the Pussy Snatchers universe that doesn't quite fit in with the main narrative of the series. Unlike the other parts of the "War" sequence, this very short story (by my standards at least!) is more plot-heavy and doesn't feature any explicit sex scenes. Instead it expands the scope of the world I've created and introduces two characters who will later become crucially important. Hopefully you will enjoy this one regardless of its non-erotic subject matter.

DISCLAIMER: This story may not be for everyone. There is one scene describing wartime violence but this part does not feature any explicit sex scenes.

War of the Pussy Snatchers Interlude Two: We'll Be Allied

535th Day After Contact

Setting: Just an average city in modern-day America

Derek ducked his head down and clutched his rifle close to himself as he rolled forward to avoid the sprays of gunfire that burst in his direction. The rapport lit the darkness of the night and tracers of bullets illuminated the paths that spelled his doom. The enemy had retaken the high ground after this morning's preemptively celebrated victory and Derek counted at least three machine gun nests fixated on his unit's position.

The fusillades fired from within the skeletons of dead skyscrapers that while exposed nonetheless provided a tactical height advantage. Seasoned soldiers might have remained firm in their location but these fresh recruits neglected their training in the heat of battle and broke off from the main group to seek cover from the deluge of gunfire, abandoning their surest vantage point for a counterattack. Cpt. Derek Clay couldn't be so easily fooled however.

Derek had been a soldier with the U.S. Army for over fifteen years. He enlisted in the service right out of high school partly to escape his ghetto-ass Cleveland neighborhood and partly in response to the surge of American patriotism resulting from the 9/11 attacks. Derek honestly believed fighting in the army was the just and right thing for him to do. Since joining, Derek had gone on six tours of duty in Afghanistan and four in Iraq, spending far more time in the Middle East than on American soil. He had watched many good friends die in front of him and had himself gunned down dozens, if not hundreds of enemy combatants without remorse.

The army promoted Derek to a rank as high as Captain and he received a Silver Star and a Purple Heart for his actions during his service in Kandahar. Ironically, he didn't fire a single bullet during the exchange that accorded him those honors. A rocket-propelled grenade hit his company's MRV and flipped the vehicle over. Derek pulled four of his wounded comrades from the burning wreckage and dragged them to the safety of a nearby household despite the hot, twisted metal shrapnel embedded in Derek's face and shoulder. He still bore proudly the scars he received on that heat-blinded afternoon over both his cheeks but fortunately once his wounds fully healed the permanent marks resembled little more than a severe case of acne.

After his latest tour ended, Derek assumed he would return to the states for a cushy desk job now that his soldiering days were blessedly compete. Maybe finally find the time to settle down and look for a lady worthy of bending his knee to. But oh no, Derek's odyssee ended with a war right on his very doorstep and his enlistment again in the pisspoor remnants of what used to be the greatest military force this world had ever seen. The wild-eyed women who spearheaded the largest and most successful attack ever perpetrated on American soil were called the Soulless by their enemies. Derek couldn't begin to imagine what these odd warrior women named themselves.

The Soulless were an enemy unlike any humanity had encountered. Their agents could be hiding within any female and you might never realize it until they were close enough to place a knife at your throat. The Soulless constantly replenished their empty ranks with the women they captured, extending their war in perpetuity until their enemies were exhausted and depleted. Derek never articulated the fact aloud but he had seen enough of the failed strategies in the Middle East to know when a war was lost. At this point, survival was all that mattered and all that remained for humanity to hope for.

Derek waited for the dust and the dying screams to settle in the bombed-out ashes of what had once been downtown Pittsburgh. He had been here once before over twenty years ago but now this steel shell of a city barely resembled the bustling metropolis Derek recalled. The bones of its skeleton offered numerous hiding spots and traps for both the enemy and Derek's men alike to utilize and he would employ this advantage whenever possible. Derek watched patiently for the next distant shots to announce themselves and his eyes narrowed in concentration when he identified their origin point.

Derek had been the second-best marksman in his unit back in Afghanistan but pulling off this difficult shot would require all his skill to muster. He trained the sight of his rifle upon the outline of one of the shooters sitting in the fourth floor window of a building across the street. Derek understood the danger that as soon as he used his rifle every enemy gun in the vicinity would immediately aim their fire in his direction. While he definitely comprehended the risk to his person, that machine-gunner up there was slaughtering Derek's men and would finish the rest of his comrades off soon if no one put a stop to them.

Derek held no compunction over killing a woman. Back in the desert a female insurgent was just as likely to lob a bomb in your direction as any man. Still, Derek couldn't help from wincing when he pulled the trigger and caught a flash of long blonde hair flipping back as the bullet took his adversary right between the eyes.

The woman who just ended up on the wrong end of Derek's head-shot might have been the same sexy blonde he'd had a one-night stand with at that bar in Philly a year or two ago. Maybe she had been a schoolteacher or a nurse in her old life. Derek fucking hated being forced into this position where survival meant the indiscriminate slaughter of American women.

Derek wouldn't dare voice his innermost thoughts out loud but sometimes he actually sympathized with the women whom they fought. The Soulless soldiers were remarkably disciplined and well-trained. While they did whatever it took to win a battle he never saw them commit an act out of cruelty or malice. Derek had known several soldiers who were absolute shit human beings to both their enemies and allies but he'd never seen a Soulless abuse another of their kind. He certainly couldn't say the same for his own side.

Derek waited only long enough to verify the arterial spray of blood and watch as a female body slumped forward and fell from the window four stories to crash amongst the rubble of the street before he was up and moving again.

"Move!" Derek bellowed at his men just before a hail of gunfire rained down upon his former position.

Derek chanced a look back to view his men foolishly returning fire rather than seeking better cover before they attempted their next volley. While Derek managed to take down one of the machine gun nests they were still trapped in a pincer between the two others. A shrapnel burst from a nearby rooftop accompanied by exploding and whistling noises made Derek's heart drop.

"Grenade!" Derek screamed as he high-tailed it as quick and far away as possible from the projectile explosive.

The rocket-propelled grenade landed with a loud detonation in the exact spot where Derek stood only seconds before. Derek stumbled over himself as the shockwave of impact launched him forward. He felt a sharp pain in that same damn shoulder as tiny pieces of shrapnel tore through skin and muscle. Running on pure adrenaline and a keen instinct for survival, Derek dived forward using his uninjured shoulder to crash through a window into the nearest intact building.

Derek struggled for breath from his sprint as he glanced through the shattered glass at the dark end of the street where his former position was located. No trace remained of Derek's comrades. This battle had quickly turned into a monumental disaster. Derek had advised his CO on how dangerous a siege on such a fortified position would be but had the prick listened? Hell no. Fucking pencil pusher had never even seen action before today and now all of Derek's men were dead due to his arrogance.

Derek's ears rang with a dull hum from the proximity to the close call that very nearly ended his existence. He heard gunshots ringing down the boulevard nearby but they sounded muddled as if the clamor were deep underwater. Skirmishes were still taking place throughout the city though at this point Derek figured it wouldn't be much longer until his army ordered a retreat. How the hell could he rendezvous with his unit with this mess of shit in the way? He didn't even know what happened to his radio, an uncharacteristic lapse in his infamous attention to detail that had contributed to his rise through the ranks.

Derek froze with fear when he heard a crashing noise and detected movement in the darkness of the adjoining room. This place looked like it might have been an office building before the war with chairs and paperwork left scattered about a floor filled with desks as though the employees planned to return to work tomorrow. Derek tried lifting himself up but the excruciating pain in his shoulder prevented him from employing the stealth needed to sneak undetected. He hid like a coward skulking in the shadows instead, praying his presence would remain unnoticed until the danger passed. Derek brandished his rifle but was hesitant to use it until the nature of this adversary was known to him.

Would this spell his demise then, sitting in a broken, abandoned building a few hours from his birthplace rather than lying dead in the sand thousands of miles away? Derek never imagined it would end like this. The clop of footsteps sounded nearer and nearer until Derek saw her standing in the doorway. The Soulless.

Derek viewed the stranger in silhouette until her outline resolved into the form of a cute little brunette who looked barely out of high school. But instead of school clothes this youth wore camouflage fatigues and a black bandana that held her flowing brown hair back behind her. These clothing options matched well with the rifle slung across her back that she seemed to understand well the use of. Streaks of black warpaint drawn around her eyes and across her cheeks conveyed a fiercer appearance than she could have achieved otherwise.

She was hurt. The right leg of her pants was soaked through with blood and the way the red stain expanded downward made it a clear thigh wound. She quietly limped into the room, making hardly any noise aside from her shallow breaths. Tough girl. The facade of projected strength and endurance dissipated when she leaned back against a wall and slowly slumped downward into a sitting position. She cried out with a soft and strained moan of pain as her thigh bent then sighed with relief once her leg pointed straight outward. The girl looked totally exhausted and not thinking clearly which likely explained why she hadn't noticed Derek yet.

The girl looked down at her leg and hissed "Fuck!" when she comprehended the amount of blood she'd lost already. Derek couldn't help himself. She was too pretty and looked like she could use some aid.

"Hey girl," Derek greeted her. "How you livin'?"

"Shit!" the girl screamed as she lifted her rifle and pointed its barrel straight at Derek's forehead.

"Now hold on," Derek warned immediately with his hands raised in a contrite, nonthreatening pose. "You don't have to do that."

The girl's finger pulled back slightly on the rifle's trigger but she didn't squeeze hard enough to fire the gun. Nervous sweat poured down Derek's chest and back knowing that the merest twitch of the girl's finger would end him.

"Like hell I don't!" the girl retorted. "Do you know how many of my friends you assholes killed today?"

"Hey, it's not like that," Derek answered with hands raised high as he attempted to placate the girl and her murderous intentions. "I didn't even want to be here. I thought attacking the city was fucking insanity and would just get a bunch of people killed for no reason. I actually don't have a problem with any of you ladies."

"I sure as hell have a problem with you," she spat back.

The feisty, pretty brunette with the itchy trigger finger hadn't blown Derek's brains out yet so he counted that as a small victory. Lord, was she cute. Even with her face and hair matted with dust and all sorts of debris she was clearly gorgeous and almost old enough to have reached the prime of her beauty. Too bad the Soulless didn't exactly mix well with men.

"You're hurt," Derek observed. "Let me help you. I have medical supplies in my kit."

"I don't need your help," she snapped. "My Sisters know where I am, by the way. They can feel me at all times. They'll find me and when they do you best believe they won't show you the mercy I've so far rendered."

"My unit still controls the uptown," Derek explained. "Your friends-"

"Sisters," the girl corrected.

"Sisters, whatever, couldn't break through our artillery and could only get to us over the rooftops. You're cut off from your Sisters and they would have to fight their way through my company to get to you. Without medical attention, you're liable to bleed out before they ever get close. You can barely walk. Please let me help you."

"You're hurt too," the brunette remarked as she indicated with her rifle the spots of blood leaking through the cloth covering Derek's shoulder.

"I can take care of myself," Derek replied calmly. "I've had this exact same wound before and ended up just fine. Hey, what's your name?"

"Fuck off," the brunette snarled.

"Right," Derek replied coolly. "So is that like your first name or last name or whatever?"

"Go to hell."

"Fuckoff Gotohell," Derek joked. "I've not heard that one before. Is that German or something?"

Despite her prickly disposition, the brunette chuckled at Derek's quip. She had been trained to never trust your life with the enemy or anyone who collaborated with them but this one seemed different from the others of his kind. The girl slowly lowered her rifle to Derek's smile of immense relief and gratitude.

The girl regarded the enemy soldier more seriously now that she wasn't planning to shoot him. Her eyes scrutinized his features closely as he stood up with a pained grunt and walked over to her. The combination of his stubbly shaved head, the dark curls of his wild, unkempt beard, his strong, chiseled jawline, his warm and ready smile, his dark-brown skin and the mischievous glint to his expressive brown eyes captivated her.

Derek crouched down beside his new acquaintance and unzipped a pack bundled to the front of his uniform. He removed from his kit a package of gauze, a roll of bandages, a bottle of antiseptic formula, tape, scissors and more before arranging the items neatly in front of the girl. Before doing anything else, Derek tore a strip of cloth from the sleeve of his uniform and tied it tightly just above the wound on the soldier girl's thigh. She grunted with pain and exertion as Derek put pressure on her puncture while at the same time the makeshift wrap squeezed the skin and muscle near the damage.

"This tourniquet should help stem the flow of bleeding and cut off the loss of blood from your heart," Derek advised. "It's a temporary solution to keep you alive until we can find an actual medic."

Derek grabbed the material of the girl's pants just above her knee near the wound's origin and asked, "Do you mind?"

The girl shook her head so Derek proceeded to use the scissors to slice apart the material of her pants and expose the girl's thigh. He peeled apart the clothing covering her wound and inspected the bloody mess therein. So intent on his work, Derek hardly noticed the bare skin of her thigh or the surprisingly sexy green underwear she wore. Derek cleaned the area using the antiseptic formula and gauze until he was able to fully assess the damage. The girl gritted her teeth and winced periodically while he worked but never cried out in pain. She impressed Derek more and more the longer he spent time with her.

"You're extremely lucky," Derek told the girl. "There's an exit wound so the bullet didn't get stuck inside you. No messy extractions required. Just a few stitches on both sides of your thigh and you'll be no worse for wear. The bullet missed the bone too so you won't have any shattered remnants of your femur to dig out. Not that such knowledge makes this hurt any less for you."

Derek used the tape to affix gauze to the girl's wounds and seal it with bandages. She'd have a nasty permanent scar on her thigh but once the bleeding stopped and her skin and sinew could be stitched back together the damage wouldn't look quite so bad. Derek wasn't knowledgeable enough about gunshot wounds or human anatomy to predict how long any muscle or ligament damage might incapacitate her. The girl stared at him intently while he worked as if at any moment she expected him to attack or betray her.

When Derek had finished dressing the girl's wounds she thanked him, adding gratefully, "I couldn't have done that myself. Thank you again."

Derek warned sternly, "You had better learn this stuff. I'm no medic but this kind of thing is like Battlefield Medicine 101. Quick attention could mean the difference between life and death. No offense but I thought you ladies were better trained than this."

"Oh, lately they've sort of been rushing girls through training to get us out in the field quicker," the girl explained. "I've been a member for over a year but only a soldier for a few weeks. Our numbers have slowly been dwindling and the officers can't spend the time training us like they used to."

The girl winced and wilted as soon as the words left her mouth once she realized she probably shouldn't be sharing that kind of intel with an adversary.

"Man, this shit is crazy," Derek commented. "What a fucking world. Why are you doing this for, anyway?"

"We're fighting for a better world," the girl replied vehemently. "It may not look like it yet and you may not approve of our methods but we are creating a better tomorrow."

"How many of us dudes have to die before you achieve your glorious future?" Derek wondered.

The girl had no reply for that so she kept silent while Derek finished dressing her wound.

"I graduated from high school less than two years go," the girl suddenly confessed with a heavy sigh. "I'm not even old enough to legally drink yet. I thought I would be ready for this but war terrifies me. When your army rolled into the city this morning I threw up once I realized there'd be a battle. I pissed myself as soon as bullets started flying around me."

"Hey, there's no shame in that," Derek reassured her. "War is fucking hell. Some of the toughest motherfuckers I've ever known literally shit themselves as soon as they came under fire. So why did you join up with them anyway? You seem so...well..."

"Normal?" the girl offered.

"Not exactly the word I was thinking of," Derek said with a shrug. "But close enough."

"It was my mother who turned me," the girl admitted with a sigh. "She Initiated me herself."

The girl's expression became defiant as she added, "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. Through her, I met the most wonderful women who love me and understand me as no others could. I would die for any of my Sisters."

Derek raised an eyebrow at his new acquaintance but didn't pry further. He of course heard all the rumors and speculations of the strange rituals and aberrant sexual practices of the women sworn to the Soulless. Now he heard that hearsay confirmed from the mouth of one of those women. Derek shrugged in response. He wasn't the type the judge anyone's kinks provided consent was freely given by all parties involved. Even if they were motherfuckers.