Heirs of Debauchery - Story 08

Roads, if the mud ruts formed from countless years of wagons & carts going to the same places to and fro counts as such, were, are, and will never be a comfortable experience traveling on. Yet in their way they have been far more enduring than the grandness of monstrosities of concrete and asphalt. The humble spirit persevering while his grandeur long forgotten.

But it's still uncomfortable, and rather unsafe for that matter.

Which brings to the scene at hand: a humble covered wagon being pulled by a pair of oxen, stopped in its tracks as a dozen horsemen blocked the trail in front of it, and all around, not that there's many paths to go.

"You are surrounded, and outnumbered. Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. The choice is yours." The man- bandit, on the horse directly in front of the stopped wagon, made his demand. The hooded woman sitting in the front of the wagon shook her head, though not much could be made out of her besides the barest outline of her figure.

"There is nothing within that you seek." She replied cryptically. The bandit snorted in derision.

"Okay I see you're choosing the hard way." He said as he drew out a wicked looking dagger from his belt, the grin of a predator closing in for the kill spread on his face.

But before he could even make another move, a flurry of arrows shot forth from the trees, most of them striking true. That does not mean anyone was killed, though a few of the more unlucky bandits who got shot in their more vital regions of their bodies did fall off their mounts, and were twitching on the dirt of the road. The rest of the bandits had only enough time to turn around towards the direction of where the arrows came from before they- yet another group of men- leaped forth from the shrubbery.

Within a few minutes it was all over, and the mounts of the previous group of bandits now have new owners, with the bodies of the late and unlamented bandits strewn around, to be food for the crows already circling above.

"Thank you, I guess." The hooded woman spoke after an awkward moment of silence. "I guess you're not with those, um, folks?" She asked, pointing a finger at one of the bodies.

"No, -mam? The humble Bobby and his friends would never be in league with those scoundrels." The man who took out the head bandit answered as he took off the hood of his cloak, revealing a surprisingly youthful face. "These trails are dangerous. You should be more careful. All of you." He emphasized the last bit, letting her know that he knew of the others behind the covering of the wagon.

"Is that an implied threat?" She asked as she narrowed her eyes. Yet the playful smirk on her face hints at something else.

"No, why would that be?" He asked, seemingly genuinely shocked at the seemingly unwarranted accusation. "You were about to be ravished by those, those bastards."

"We were in far less danger than what they, or even you for that matter, could see." She said as she held a hand forward, in which a curious metal device in her palm. It looked a little like one of those triggers of an arbalest, but there's little else besides that. "Observe." She said as she pulled the trigger.

The bark of a mini thunderclap shook all the men and their horses, and a little puff of smoke came out of the device, after a moment the crash of a rather heavy branch could be heard off in the distance.

"Oh." Was all Bobby could say, realizing the depth of what he, and more relevantly his friends, had gotten themselves into.

"Well, it only has 18- now 17 rounds." The mysterious woman said as the curious device once again disappeared behind her hooded cloak. "But the other ways to demonstrate our... traits would require a more hands on approach.

"I see." Bobby nodded, acknowledging the subtle but significant change of the balance of power. "Well then, we shall bid you a farewell and safe journey, to wherever there might be." He was about to turn to make his smooth exit when the woman-, if she's even human, held up a hand.

"But you did save us, or at least our efforts." She began coyly. "It would be rather rude of us to not give something in return for your efforts."

Bobby thought what he felt was forever on those words. Of course he wants something. They all do. It's a hard life in this world, it's even harder to do what's right. For all the supposed nobility of righteousness when the sun sets it's not enough to fill bellies and keep the cold at bay.

Yet something is amiss. Something blindly obvious- if only he's one of the learned ones, which he is not. Something big, something that will make him regret his choices...

But then he heard the hushed tones of his compatriots, whispers of hope, of vast riches of the gods and all the comfort that they could ever wish for, just within their grasp. They deserve it-

And thus he made up his mind. If he turns down this offer, he would never be forgiven. He would never forgive himself for that matter.

"Well?" The mysterious lady asked, as if edging him on.

"What, could- um, you give to us?" He asked, trying to keep his, and their, expectations grounded. The lady nodded.

"By the standards of your kind, the stars are the limit." She simply said, her words far more literal than any of the baselines knew. "Say, what are your deepest desires?

"You wouldn't take me seriously if I say it." Bobby instinctively replied. He could hear the friendly teasing from the others, the voices of which kept him grounded.

"Oh come on, this stick up the arse bullshit again?" She snapped as she stood up on the wagon, and in a dramatic flourish, threw her hooded cloak aside. "Gaze upon this, and ask yourself if we are the kind to care about pre industrial constrained morality!"

The random giblish of the strange lady was completely eclipsed by the sheer beauty of her body, in all of its naked glory. In a world of mud and filth, the sight of a glossy body, unblemished by any wrinkles or scars. As if sculpted by the gods themselves, nominally only described in fairy tales or hushed gossips about the high aristocracy, which might as well also be fantasy. So far away they are removed from the lives of the average schmuck.

"What, never seen a girl naked?" The woman, if she was ever a mere mortal, asked with a smug grin.

"Wa- wa- wa-, no." Bobby replied, after retrieving what's left of his marbles. At least he was fast on the draw for that, as he could still hear the babbling of the rest of the guys behind him.

"Well, shit." The gynoid muttered to herself as she realized that she might have done what a certain failed actress might call 'corruption of the baselines', but since she's far away from anyone who cares... "So, what are your deepest desires?" She cooed gently, pretending that she wasn't some sketchy temptress that most post apocalyptic preindustrial societies like to warn their people about because they can't accept anything good ever happening.

"Well..." Bobby began, his mind overheating as thoughts chased each other into corners long kept away from anyone else, all the while unable to avert his gaze at the sight of the miraculous plump and curvy body being flaunted in front of their eyes. "I want to see every woman be like you: beautiful, their bodies to be admired by all." He blurted it out.

There, he said it. He could hear the snickering behind him, as the rest had finally diverted enough attention away from the nude maiden for a moment to chuckle at his immature wish. Yet she did not laugh at him. If anything her expression had suddenly taken on a more somber note.

"Perfect." She said, again almost as if to herself, as she got off the wagon and began strolling towards him, which he realized was his cue to dismount as well. "It seems that our goals in fact do align." She paused as she stopped right in front of him, with him belatedly realizing that they are of the same height. "Now, the cost. No, nothing about your immortal soul or anything stupid like that, but your world will be forever and irrevocably changed, should you agree."

Once again indecision gripped Bobby, the fear of being dragged into something completely out of his depth, something that he and his compas couldn't fight their way out of. And once again he snapped himself out of his doubt. If he rejects this opportunity, this gift, what's the alternative? The same hardscrabble existence till some violent death?

"I accept this bargain!" He shouted, with a measure of conviction that he didn't know he possessed. The witch, for what else could she be, smiled.

"Well, calling it a bargain is a bit cheap, but no matter." She said with a grin as she put her hands on his shoulders, and in a few motions quickly shredded his clothes. Before Bobby could respond she kissed him deeply, their tongues becoming entwined for a moment of forever.

Suddenly he felt a hotness, not that of pain, but of... he does not know how to describe it, but he liked it, far more than he should. The little voices in head warning of trickery and other concerns quickly melted away in the presence of pleasure.

In another few moments they were down on the grass next to the trail, their bodies rapidly becoming one, as well as their minds. United in the throes of passion, of something that in that primitive world only spoken of in hushed tones but innate to the heart of all men. In the occasional moments when his eyes weren't feasting on the gorgeous sight before him he caught glimpses of his compatriots, who have also joined what must have been the other, what are they- gynoids, who were in that wagon, in their wild debauchery of the flesh.

Gynoids. The unfamiliar word suddenly appeared in his mind, along with a clarity of thoughts, and a vigor unlike any he felt before except in the most outrageous of dreams.

"What's- happening to me?" He asked, though he should feel worried, but he didn't, as something within told him that everything will be alright. Something from without-

"The powers to reshape the world." The gynoid replied without skipping a beat, all the while continued to ride his dick with the skills of a courtesan. "The strength to impose your vision, and the longevity to see it through."

And at that moment he understood the full extent of the compact he had made.

Or at least he thought he did. The follies of youth being something that cannot be fixed by any nanomachines.

But it is precisely that folly which was what the gynoids were looking for, and now that they have their warlord to begin the marshaling of resources and people...