"Oh, fucking
mierda
! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The Kid started to scramble back into the truck's cab as best he could with his hands zip tied before himself, which wasn't particularly well. It really didn't help that his pants were down around his knees. It was really just a lot of frantic backward butt scooting. He couldn't take his eyes off the brushcock that was charging towards them. It was maybe twenty, thirty seconds away and once it reached them...
Well, the Kid would probably be safe in the cab if he kept his head down and covered his ears while the common chicken's descendant picked Savvy apart with its claws and its cruel beak, cum-splattered face at all. He could crawl out when it left and rush away so long as he figured out where
not
to look to see whatever remained of his savior. However, the Kid's quick mind quickly realized his plan had two big problems.
First, his hands were still bound with the plastic
whatever the fuck
zipties were. The black cord was tight enough that he couldn't get it to loosen up as much as he tried to twist his wrists around. The skin beneath it was growing white, and the way Savvy had put them on him had the cord's teeth digging into him; his attempts to escape them were futile and frankly, all they were doing was scratching up his wrists.
It would be hard for him to do anything with his hands like, say,
close the truck's door.
That would be big insofar as escaping the brushcock went, but not impossible. Afterwards he would need to open it as well -- and what then? Did he just wander through the desert hoping he might bumble into someone who could cut him loose, or a sharp rock, or--
Really, it was just a no go. He wasn't even sure he could get his pants back up with the zip ties still on his wrists. Sure, he could pull them up but the Avila-Cruz cartel didn't care about making sure their cacti farm slaves had fitted pants. His pants (and really, calling them pants was
generous
) were terribly loose and baggy, and without the dexterity to tie his rope belt around his waist again he'd be going through the desert with his pants around his ankles.
The second problem was a lot more simple.
"What the fuck're you-- goddammit, this stings," the psycho cowgirl slash self-declared Lone Ranger cried out with a voice full of irritation, rubbing desperately at her cum-splashed eye. She stumbled forward and propped herself against the side of the truck as she worked to clean the Kid's jizz out of her peeper. He was sure that she accomplished nothing but smearing it deeper in there, making her problem all the worse. "What're you cussin' about? Did you fuckin' cum in your own eye, too? Serves you fuckin' right, fuck! Ugh. Goddamn. Shit!"
The Kid's father wanted his kid to grow up to be a good man. The rarest kind of man in Old-Old Mexico's desert, and he would wager the rarest kind of man in the Land of the Free as well after his short time over the border. He wanted the Kid to have a conscience, to treat others with respect and give them the benefit of the doubt instead of assuming the worst from them. At least most of the time.
"Always trust your gut, kiddo," the Kid's father used to say. Of course the Kid's father trusted his gut when he took in Legless Luis and that didn't exactly turn out well for anyone
except
Luis, nevermind the fact the Kid scrambled his brains just a few days ago in a sudden panic. Right now the Kid's conscience told him he owed the so-called 'Lone Ranger' his life and he couldn't just abandon her after that. His gut feeling agreed with that assessment. Without her, he was probably fucked whether or not he survived the brushcock's coming rampage. With her, he stood a chance and was
still
likely to be fucked, considering she started sucking his cock within five minutes of meeting him.
That last part wasn't really his gut talking. Apparently, his cock and balls got a vote as well. The only thing voting against saving her was his brain -- she was a
psycho.
She literally went down on his cock within five minutes of meeting him, and even now her tits were leaking milk, a sure indication of her mutation. Even though there had been a constant flow dribbling out of her nipples this entire time, her breasts didn't seem to have gotten any smaller. It was fucking ridiculous.