Keane layed on his stomach in the forest, hidden behind a cluster of trees and a bunch of bushes. In this spot, he could stay completely concealed as he observed his prey bathing in the stream below: Two young horan women, both of a ripe age that would bring him top dollar.
The year is now 3709. Not much is known about the world before the Final War, the war which changed the planet forever. All that is known is that sometime in the late 21st century, nuclear war ravaged the world, and forced the few remaining survivors to seek shelter underground. The tribes of people who didnât live underground for centuries risked the effects of toxic fallout. Mutation and sickness from the nuclear fallout was one of the least worries however, since tribes of bandits and pirates killed and ate whatever or
whoever
they could find.
That age came to an end a few hundred years ago, when most of the underground civilizations resurfaced, to live above ground again. What they found is that the humans above ground had mutated and sub-races had sprouted up. Those who had avoided the fallout below ground regarded themselves as âpure bloodedâ humans. Horans were one of the new races that had evolved over the centuries.
Most of the differences between the races were subtle. Horans looked very much like humans, except they had evolved to possess much more enhanced sexual features, and had a raging sex drive. This is where they got their nickname, âHoranâ came from the old word âwhoreâ, describing the horny nature of the entire race.
Horan women were recognizable by their naturally tan skin, with blonde to white hair color, and bright, almost fluorescent eyes (usually green or cyan). Horan females also had extremely large breasts, which were impossible to miss. At puberty, the girlsâ breasts began producing milk, pregnant or not. It was natural for them to lactate when excited, particularly when sexually aroused.
Keane wasnât pure blooded, he was part mutant, so in some social circles he would never be fully accepted. He looked human in every way, except for he only had eight fingers, impossible to hide his mutant heritage. So he was forced to work as a slave hunter; A dirty job, but it paid well.
Keane hunted horans primarily, to sell into slavery. These two he was watching would bring in enough money to last him for months. Horans were sparse, and on the verge of extinction. They were a primal race, with extremely low brain power and intelligence potential. In fact, they were so stupid that horans couldnât even learn how to speak a language, their communication was reduced to primitive grunts and moans. Many believed thatâs all they needed to do anyway, since they tended to spend most of their time engaging in sex.
Some had tried to breed horans in captivity, but slave buyers werenât interested in their offspring because they lacked the wild sexual nature; They were considered too âhousebrokenâ. Their breastmilk however, was a delicacy enjoyed around the continent.
Keane shifted slightly as he watched the two horans bathing themselves in the waterfall pool just about 200 feet down the hill in front of him. Both were bathing naked, although horans seldom wore clothes, no more than just a loincloth. If they did wear clothes, most horan women would need at least an F cup bra.
The two young women were waist deep in the forest stream pool of water. One of them was standing underneath the waterfall, letting the cold water shower down over her head, as she rubbed her basketball sized tits. Her white hair was matted to her body, slicked back behind her, reaching down to her waist. Some locks of hair were dangling down over between her gigantic hooters.
The second girl was facing away from Keane, so he couldnât see her, but she seemed to be washing herself between her legs⌠or something.
Keane reached down, rubbing his stiff cock that had slipped out of the rip in the front of his pants. His dick had a tendency to slip out of the hole in the front of his raggedy trousers, but he didnât give a shit about that sort of thing.
Keane laid there on the ground, stroking his now fully-erect cock as he watched the two bathing girls. The two were now close together, kissing with their arms wrapped around each other. The girl under the waterfall reached her hands back, squeezing the other womanâs bulging, voluptuous tits.
After a few seconds, Keane took his hands off his dick, deciding that there was no better time to jump in, surprise the two, and capture them. He stood up slowly, quietly, and took a few steps back to where his motorcycle was leaning against a tree. He took a rolled up bundle off from the back, and began to undo it. This trusted item was his net, which he used to capture and tangle his victims. He folded the net, preparing it in formation to throw.
Keane took his motorcycle, and climbed on top of it. Once he started the bike, he knew that the two women would start to flee, so he had to be quick. He knew what he was doing though, this was his professional after all. With a quick kick-start to his bike, he gunned the engine and started rushing forward over the hill.
As soon as he came over the crest of the hill, back into the view of the two women, he saw them looking up at him, stricken in fear. They didnât stay still for long though; In an instant, both of them were rushing out of the water, running away in opposite directions. Keane headed after the woman on the left, closest to him. He closed in quickly as she ran barefoot, and in seemingly no time, he was near enough to cast his net out, catching the horan squarely inside it. She stumbled forward, falling, and began clawing at the net, only further tangling herself.
The slave hunter zoomed forward, continuing after the second girl. But as a vine tangled itself in the front wheel of his bike, he felt himself suddenly lurching forward, head over heels.
Before he knew what had happened, Keane found himself flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Sighing, he got up, seeing what had happened. He picked up the motorcycle, realizing that he didnât have enough time to untangle it and pursue the second horan.
Keane walked back to where the first woman had fallen in the net. She squealed loudly, clawing at the net, struggling on the ground practically helplessly. As the woman saw him, she stopped screaming, and stared at him in fear, panting heavily.
The slave hunter stood over his captured prey, his cock was still hard and sticking straight out from the gash in the front of his trousers. If he wasnât sporting a hardon, his prey probably wouldnât be quite as scared. Keane looked over the woman. She was young, probably in her early twenties. Her body was perfect (most horans were, thatâs why they were in such high demand). Her chest was heaving, making her huge, bulging tits rise and fall; Her nipples with dribbling with a few drops of milk. The horanâs stomach was thin and muscular, and when she tensed, Keane could see the definition of her abs. Below her stomach, her platinum blonde bush was exposed as her firm thighs were forced open, tangled in the net.
The one capture would have to do, Keane thought, stroking his cock as he crouched down to the woman. Keane liked to test out his products before he sold them, to make sure there werenât any problems. Plus it was an added bonus to the job, he figured.
