Runners

"Welcome one and all to the United Nations number one rated television program, the gameshow which combines what we love most, sex and sport... This is Runners!"

The audience took to their feet in the domed arena with a thunderous applause.

"And here's your host with the most," the announcer said over the loud speakers, "Chuck Harvey!"

The burgundy theatre drapes opened and a silver-headed man trotted out, showing a wide white grin. "Hello and welcome to Runners! The show where three lucky contestants compete for a chance to win..."

"One. Million. Dollars!" the crowd cheered.

"That's right!" Chuck said into the microphone. "The object of the game is survive thirty minutes in the bombed out and depleted region of the Forgottens without being caught by one of our chasers. If, within thirty minutes, a competitor is stripped of their clothes, he or she will be eliminated and must submit to the chaser. There is absolutely no punching, pushing, or kicking; only tugging and running. If you survive the hour, with even a sock on, you win the grand prize of..."

"One. Million. Dollars!" the crowd chanted again in one unified voice.

"Yes, yes!" Chuck said. "Let's meet our contestants, shall we? First up... a former soccer player turned model. Give a round of applause for Mandy Garcia!"

Mandy appeared from underneath the stage on an elevated platform. The brunette, with streaks of blonde, waved to the audience in a red one piece jumper. She was thin with a sun-kissed skin tone. "My goal is to continue modeling... with my prize money, that is!"

"Ohhhh snap." Chuck spun back to the crowd. "The next competitor.... a tough cop from the West district... let's hear it for Elba Ortega."

Elba arose from the platform next to Mandy. The short Spanish officer wore a black jumper with her dark hair in a ponytail. She sneered at the crowd with an unapproachable look. "Dead or alive... the money is coming with me."

"Ha! Classic." Chuck chuckled. "And finally... hailing from the world of Ghost Hunting, round of applause for Kristin Blake."

The third and final platform lifted Kristin. She had strawberry blonde hair and sported a purple jumper. She folded her arms, looked away as though wanting to be anywhere else.

Chuck motioned to her. "Well, do you have anything to say?"

Kristin smacked on a piece of gum. She stretched it with her index finger while saying, "No. This show and our world has become filth. I'm just here cuz my boyfriend said we could use the money for new equipment. So..."

"Your pleasantness is apparent. I can see what your boyfriend sees in you." Chuck turned back to the crowd with a heightened brow. A few giggled in their seats. He wagged his head, jumped back into character. "Now the fun part..."

"Pick. Our. Chasers!" the crowd shouted.

"That's right. Upon arrival, we asked you all to choose your chasers for the event." Chuck swung to the big screen behind him. "Your choices are... Machismo!"

A picture flashed of a muscle-bound wrestler. Dark shades covered his eyes. A sleeveless tie-dye shirt showed off his impressive biceps. His brown hair frizzed out from underneath a bandana, matching his scraggly beard.

Mandy rolled her eyes at the image, scoffed.

Hearing the groan, Chuck wheeled around to the contestant. "Do you know this man?"

"We've crossed paths." Mandy scowled. "He played soccer back at my high-school."

"Oh. This could get interesting." Chuck winked at Mandy before swinging his sights back to the giant screen. He snapped his fingers. The photo changed. "S&M Holmes!"

A swarthy man appeared in a long trench coat, top hat, with handlebar mustache. He puffed on his question mark pipe.

Chuck snapped his fingers once again. "Cock-A-Two!"

A duo appeared on screen dressed in a full bird costume: white feathers and big beaks.

"Last but not least..." Chuck smiled wide. "Maggie the Machinist!"

A strong woman showed on the screen. She had a red bandanna, denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders. In her hand, she gripped a big silver dildo.

"At the Forgottens you will run into other competitors from other districts," Chuck said. "You can work with them, help them if need be, but be leery. For, among you will be a hidden, debuting chaser. It could be one of you here, or anyone you might run into at the Forgottens. So be ye prepared."

The challengers shared suspicious glances to one another.

"Ladies..." Chuck gestured to the competitors. "We've been over the rules. Are there any questions?"

They all shook their heads.

"Good luck to each of ya," Chuck said. "And... when you are dropped off in the Forgottens, this fast paced game begins. So runners..."

"Be. Ready. To run!" the crowd screamed in unison.

***

"Okay. Let's just get this outta the way..."

The competitors trotted down the desolate street. Old burnt buildings lined each side, decorated with graffiti and broken windows. Plastic cups and wadded newspapers barreled along the sidewalks like tumbleweeds.

"...who is the hidden chaser?" Mandy asked.

"Not me," Kristin said.

"Wouldn't that be what the chaser would say?" Mandy asked.

"The chaser could also be asking," Elba grumbled, "to throw off the scent."

"What are you saying then?" Mandy furrowed her brows at the short, brooding cop.

"I'm saying there's really no point in saying," Elba said. "We'll find out shortly."

"But what if the chaser keeps giving away our position?"

Elba huffed. "Are you the chaser?"

"No."

"You?" Elba asked Kristin.

"No."

"There ya have it." Elba looked around while continuing her jog.

"Fine..." Mandy turned her attention to the dilapidated surroundings. "With the population the way it is, you'd think the United Nations would've cleaned this place up after the radiation cleared."

"Do you know how much revenue this gameshow brings in every year?" Kristin asked. "Money for the brass trumps accommodation for the mass."

"I just thi—" The rumbling of an old engine cut Mandy's retort short.

"Oh shit..." Elba said.

"No way they found us that fast," Kristin said.

"We're in a small circumference, so yeah, likely." Elba looked to the right, to an opened door of a brick building. "Come on." She dodged inside with Mandy and Kristin behind her. They dashed up a creaky flight of stairs, into an abandoned second story room, and peeked out the fractured, dingy window.

A cherry red Mustang convertible eased down the road. A tall, squared jawed blonde, wearing a turquoise jumper, stood up from the passenger seat. His eyes searched the area. "I know you're here," he declared through a megaphone as his partner drove. "I know you hear me! The name is Deebag, but you can call me Dee. We're competitors from the South district, looking to join forces. We gotta nice ride that can outrun any chaser. Come with us now, save yourself the embarrassment of being caught."

"Bullshit..." Elba turned from the window, placed her back against the dusty wall. "Could the hidden chaser be so obvious?"

"He's wearing a runner's jumper though," Mandy said.

"That's just to fool us," Elba snapped back.

"The chasers are coming," Dee said from outside. "This could be your last chance—" A horn sounded.

Elba jerked her head back to the window.

An old homeless man waddled across the road, out from the front of the red convertible. He hurried down the sidewalk, submitting his hands in an apology.

"Out of the road, gramps!" Dee shouted as the Mustang rounded the corner and out of sight.

"The hidden chaser could also be that homeless fellow," Kristin said.

"No. This place gets a lot of riffraff; saw a documentary on it once." Mandy puckered her bottom lip out. "Poor old man. He prolly lives here... all alone."

"Why don't you take him in then?" Elba asked.

"Ew! No." Mandy tossed her brunette hair, folded her arms in an abrasive stance.

"Come on. Let's go." Elba started toward the staircase, but Kristin snatched her wrist.

"Uh... bad idea," Kristin said. "Why don't we just hide out here until time expires?"

"Do you ever watch this game?" Mandy asked.

"No. It's disgusting." Kristin frowned at the question.

"You can't stay still. That's the point of the game." Elba jerked her arm free of Kristin's clutch. "There's camera's all around here. You can't hide. That's why it's called Runners."

"Yeah," Mandy backed up Elba's claim. "They're gonna find us. We just have to evade and keep moving for thirty minutes."

"Well, fuck." Kristin lowered her eyes to the grimy floor. "Has anyone ever won?"

"If there were a lot of winners, do you think the prize would be so high?" Mandy asked.

"I'm gonna kill him," Kristin said, referring to her boyfriend for getting her in this mess.

Elba waved them on. They made their way back down the rickety staircase, through the spider-webbed lobby, and peeked out the door.

The ghost was clear besides the elderly hobo meandering down the road. As though feeling their eyes upon him, he halted, slowly rotated around.

The competitors ducked back inside.

The homeless man shrugged and continued down his path.

"Let's go out the back." Elba duck-walked across the dark room, opened the backdoor slightly, and stuck her head out.

The alley was cluttered with giant trash bins against the brick walls, an abandoned Volkswagen, and stranded shopping carts. Deteriorating magazines and books stuck to the wet concrete.

"Ready?" Elba asked.

The two competitors nodded.

Elba led the charge out the door. Their shoes splashed in puddles as they hurried down the quiet alley. Elba looked back over her shoulder. "Let's try one of these buil—"

A loud shrieking caw echoed through the narrow alleyways.

"Dammit..." Mandy stopped on a dime, jerked her head up to the rooftops. "The Cock-A-Twos."

One of the birdmen perched on the corner of a two-story building in his costume. He ogled down at the girls, cawed again.

"No, no, no..." Mandy back-stepped but bumped into a feathery surface. She froze, slowly glanced over her shoulder.

The other Cock-A-Two towered over her.

"Guys..." Mandy's eyes distended. "Run!"

Kristin and Elba didn't even turn to see the birdman. Upon hearing Mandy's command, they scrambled down a connecting alley.

Mandy planted her shoes, pivoted to follow, but slid on the wet pavement. The bird snatched her ankle, pulled off her tennis shoe, sock. Her foot was long, slender, like her legs. Toes touched with a blue pedicure. She tugged her leg free, jumped up.

The other bird repelled along the side of the building with a harness. He leapt down in the middle of the alley, blocking one route. His costumed claws splashed in a puddle.

Mandy stopped as they walked her down. She noticed a rusted door on the left and charged into it with her shoulder. The door flung open. She tumbled inside. As the Cock-A-Two's approached the threshold, she slammed the door shut and placed a chair under the doorknob, locking them out.

The door opened slightly before catching the backrest of the chair. One reached his feathery arm through the slit, flailed it around in a weak attempt to snag her.

Mandy placed a hand to her heart, caught her breath. "Sweet mother of—"

There was a crunch.

Mandy choked on a breath. She wheeled around, eyes darting wide.

Machismo stood just a step away. He licked his chops, rubbed his palms together in anticipation. "Oh, this'll be fun, yeah."

Mandy tried for the staircase on her right, but Machismo was too quick, cutting her path off. He grabbed the neckline of her jumper, ripped it downward. The weak fabric tore from her tan body, exposing her small round breasts, dark stiff nipples. She spun to run back to the door, but her shredded jumper coiled around her ankles causing her to trip face first to the mucky floor.

Machismo reached down, yanked her other shoe, sock off, and stripped her of her garment completely.

Mandy curled in a ball. She pulled her knees up over her breasts, hiding her nudity. "Come on. We go back. I-I'll split the money with you."

"Too late." Machismo motioned to a camera in the corner of the room. "Besides..." He unfastened his weightlifting belt, pushed down his tie-dye spandex pants. A large cock jutted out. "No amount of money can buy sweet, sweet revenge, yeah."

Mandy creased her brows with a confused expression.

"Don't look at me like that. You and your friends used to call me fat boy, yeah." Machismo inched closer, smiling underneath his shaggy beard. ""Well, fat boy got in shape and fat boy is about to test your endurance. Now get up."

Mandy pouted. She glanced away, only briefly. Her lip curled in a sneer. She cussed under her breath while rising to her knees.

Machismo gestured to the wedding band on her finger. "Heard you just got divorced from..." He attempted to recall her high-school fling's name.

"Ronnie?" Mandy asked. "Yeah. Why do you think I joined this stupid game? He left me with nothing."

"Thought you were a model?" Machismo cradled the back of her head, his hand combing through her soft strands.

"I'm thirty. Let's just say business is not booming anymore." Mandy reluctantly gripped his shaft, stroked him with little effort. She glared up at him before moving closer to his tip. She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and slid it in her mouth. She curled her lips inward, bobbed down his length.

Machismo held her head in place causing her to gag.

Mandy pulled away, wiped her mouth. "Asshole."

"Easy, yeah. Just testing that gag reflex." Machismo converged on top of her, forcing her to her elbows.

"Wait, wait." Mandy shot him an evil eye. "Can we at least put something under me? This floor is... ugh!"

Machismo huffed. "Here. How 'bout this, yeah?" With his arms under her thighs, he raised her off the ground. She sat reversed on his shoulders, his head buried in her bald crotch. His tongue went to work on her center. He whipped his head about, devouring her womanhood while holding her in the air.

"Oh..." Mandy bucked forward, round breasts jiggled. She caressed her feet up and down his back. She cinched her eyes together, panted.

Machismo's lips stimulated her clit. He flicked it with his tongue, gently sucked.

"Ah-ha-ah." Mandy shivered. She stooped further over his head before posturing up again. She combed her fingers through her silky hair. Her hand rubbed down her neck, massaged her breasts, and then to his head. She wadded his bandana in her fist. "Oh my—Ooo-ggghhh!"

Her body convulsed causing Machismo to stumble forward. He caught himself, laughed, and laid her across a fiberglass counter top. He scooted her to the edge, her ass leaving streaks through the dust-covered counter. He held her left ankle in the air while her right leg dangled off the front. He squeezed his cock, guided it toward her wet center. After tapping the head on her vulva, which shook her, he slowly slipped it inside.

Mandy tilted her head back, looked to the hole-ridden ceiling.

Machismo quickened his pace. He groped her tan breasts, pinching her rock-hard nipples.

Mandy had a look of shock. Her mouth agape, head down, but eyes wide and up. "What do ya, ummm, what got you into this ja-job-ah!"

"Now's not the time to discuss my career path." Machismo pounded her, shaking the weak counter. "Stop trying to take your mind off what your body wants to feel."

"It's just been a—Oo! Been-a while..." Mandy's face squinched for a flash before softening again. With him clasping her right ankle in the air, she stretched her left leg wide, pointed her toes. Her eyelids fluttered. In a hot, heavy voice, she bellowed, "I don't wanna—Mm!—wanna embarrass myself. Ah!"

"There's nothing embarrassing about cumming." Machismo held her small chin in his hand, gazed deep into her hazel eyes. "Live in the moment... with me."

Mandy's lips trembled with a shaky breath. An intense tickle caused her eyes to water. In the spur of the moment, she locked lips with Machismo, basking in the warmth of her orgasm. She flopped to her back across the counter, unbothered by the dirt. She wrapped her left leg around his waist while her right leg trembled in his hand.

Machismo continued his steady motion. His balls tapped against the counter, their skin clapped together. He tossed both her legs to the same side, all while punishing her pink pussy.

Sideways, Mandy clutched the counter and laid her head off the back. Blood rushed to her face. Her breasts rocked with each heave. A chill tingled up her legs. She locked her ankles, curled her toes. She tensed and cried out, "Fuuuucckkkk!"

***

"Well, that was qui—"

Before Kristin could finish her sentence, Elba covered her mouth. She shushed Kristin, pointed out the window as the Cock-A-Two's walked by with their eyes peeled. Once they past, Elba released Kristin and started across the dank, grimy warehouse.

"Where are we going?" Kristin asked. As she trailed Elba, out of nowhere, something cuffed her legs together. She fell, looked down. Her feet were bound with a mesh rope.

Laughter bellowed from the shadows of the warehouse. Footsteps approached.

"Help..." Kristin uttered.

"Sorry..." Elba shrugged, exited.

S&M Holmes strode out from the gloom. Smoke from his pipe danced in the air. In his other hand, he held, what looked to be, a grappling gun with rope coiled around the barrel.

Kristin tried to crawl to the door, but Holmes shot his weapon again. A rope wrapped itself around Kristin's wrists causing her to flail to the floor. But, she didn't stop. She wriggled for her escape like a worm.

Holmes strutted to her while removing his trench coat. Underneath, he had suspenders holding up his slacks. He rolled the sleeves of his white button down shirt to his elbows. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Kristin didn't respond. Her eyes remained on the backdoor. She scooted across the concrete floor.

"Now... it is time." Holmes crouched over her, untied her shoes. She jerked her leg, but he clamped down on her ankle. After removing her shoes, he pulled the ankle socks from her bony, petite feet. Her toes compressed together and decorated with a purple pedicure. He then grabbed around her waist, helped her to her knees.

Kristin's pale cheeks flushed with the thought of what came next. "I can't understand how you could do this... this, this is disgusting..." she growled.

"Disgusting?" Holmes unzipped her purple jumper like a gentleman. "It's beautiful for anyone who knows what they're doing."

Kristin wiggled her shoulders but there was no use in trying to escape. For a split second, the top half of her jumper flopped to her waist, exposing her B-cup, teardrop breasts with pink bumpy nipples. She quickly picked it back over her bosoms with her roped wrists. "We know what we're doin—"

Sure..." Holmes loosened the rope around her ankles. He gently raised each knee and slid the garment down her legs. After stripping her, he calmly folded the jumper and set it aside, with her shoes and rolled socks, on a desk. "Your boyfriend, right?"

"How do you know about him?" Kristin hung her head. She knew cameras were around so she did the best to hide her face.

"I study up on the runners, as you should've done with the chasers." Holmes knelt at her side, squeezed her cheeks, and lifted her face. He gestured to the camera in the corner. "You know he's watching. He got you into this, so it's only fair to enjoy it... dig at him, ya see?"

"Just do what you're here to do." Kristin sighed.

"As you wish, my dear." Holmes eyes went from her blonde hair, down her pointy chin, thin pale body. He fondled her breasts, kissed her neck.

Kristin turned away, flexed her jaw in anger.

Holmes helped her stand. He raised her arms and placed her bound wrists over a metal hook hanging from the ceiling.