index


Message-ID: <61471asstr$1315843801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 11 Sep 2011 11:35:02 -0500
From: STS.last@pad9.nasa.gov
Subject: {ASSM} After The Collapse - Chapter one
Lines: 386
Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2011 12:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Warning!  The following story was written for adults on an adult topic.  It
contains descriptions of sexual scenes between an under age female and an
adult male.  If you are too young to read this material in your location or
if this type material disturbs you, please read no further and leave now.
All others read on and enjoy this fantasy.  Yes I said fantasy.  It is not
real and never happened.  It is wholly derived from the dark part of my
mind where nothing is real and everything can happen.  Do not try this at
home.





   After The Collapse

   Chapter the First



   The old United States of America had been dead and buried thesem

   past twelve years.  We had once been a strong and vital Nation.A Nation
of good people, banded together for mutual protection and prosperity, done
to death by greed and an inability to do the work, the very hard but very
necessary work by our so-called "elected representatives".  They were sent
to Washington D.C., the place the government called home, to save that
Nation, to pull it back from the brink of the abyss.  They failed and
failed miserably.  Washington D.C.  had been and still is abandoned, a
ghostly reminder of what we, as a Nation, COULD have done, but did not do.
It started, back then in '07 or '08, the banks and financial institutions
became greedier than normal, basically stole from the people that had
entrusted them to take care of hard-earned wages and saved monies.  The
ensuing debacle had been termed a "recession" when, in fact it was really
the Second Great Depression.  People lost their homes and jobs, their life
savings wiped out.  Millions suffered, the National Government, headed by
the last President, Barack Obama, pumped trillions of dollars into a
"recovery" program.  These monies, intended for the relief of the citizens,
instead found it's way into the pockets of those self-same representatives
that had been elected to run the Nation.  The President, it had turned out,
was a closet Communist and had brought the country down on purpose to
re-invent the Nation into a Socialist State.  Individual States, no longer
trusting the Federal Government, seceeded from the Union.  As usual, South
Carolina led.  Within a week 22 other states had followed.  By the end of
the month, January, I believe of 2011, 27 of the remaining States followed
suit.  After the collapse of the US, a global financial meltdown swiftly
ensued, plunging the entire world into darkness and despair.  People,
deprived of their savings, homes and livliehoods, sought out, hanged and
burned anyone who had even worked for a bank.  The law enforcement agencies
of the day, simply stood and watched, unable to affect any reasonable
attempt at quelling the violence.  In June of '11, am attempt was made by
the nearly-defunct Federal Government to restore order.  Military units,
troops, soldiers, sailors and Marines, having been ordered to fire on
civilian populations, deserted en-masse.  The few remaining, sought out,
arrested the President and those few Congressmen and -women still around
and placed them in custody.  The story goes that after the arrested had
been placed in confinement, one unit was chosen to guard, while the other
units were to affect martial law.  Somehow the "wires" got crossed and the
officials in custody were left to starve to death.  The National Military
Forces were disbanded and the Nation became a communtiy of Individual
States.

   The rumoured apocalypse of 12\21\12 amounted to a polar shift.  The
poles changed approximately 45 degrees.  The destruction occured mostly in
the big cities, but being abandoned, little loss of life resulted.  The
really big problem was in Novemebr of '13 when the old"Yellowstone National
Park" blew into what was called a "Super-volcano".  Everything west and
south of Yellowstone ceased to exist.  California, as it was known,
disappeared, along with Oregon and Washington.  South of Yellowstone,
including the old city of Denver became a wasteland.  The scientists of the
day proclaimed that the ensuing ash clouds would stay in the atmosphere at
least 40 years, blanketing the Earth and killing all life on the planet. 
Load of hogwash.  Yeah, the clouds cut off some radiation from the Sun for
about 3 years.  A lot of folks, back then believed in the scientists and a
great wave of suicides ran from one end of the earth to the other in a
matter of just days.  We've since learned that 3.5 billion people in Europe
alone died in the first 2 weeks after the eruption.  More than 200 million
in this land died as well.  It's been estimated that only about 1.2-1.8
billion people survive to this day.  I had been a land-owner in the State
of Florida years before the Troubles.  My brother and I had owned some
acres and two houses.  We had sold them to "speculators" and went our
separate ways.  I had emigrated to the State of North Carolina and built a
home in the foothills of the Smokies.  I had about 15 acres.  Not really a
LOT of land, but it was what I had needed at the time.  I built a small but
cozy house out of logs and had utilized both solar and wind generators to
power the home.  As I had found a small but swiftly-running creek on the
property, I also had installed a "micro-hydro" generator.  I had all the
power I needed.  This was to prove a life-saving investment.  After seeing
the iminent implosion of the Nation, back in early '08, I laid on emergency
supplies, medical and medicinal supplies, weapons and the means to make
ammuntion, if need be and converted all of my savings except for a very
small portion, to precious metals, gold and silver.  I had figured I had
about 4 1/2 years of ready foodstuffs and supplies.  I soon found I would
be needing them.  With the fall of the American Empire, the polar shift and
the Supervolcano, came a time we call "The Great Dying".  It was pitiable
to watch tiny bands of people try to take well-defended and fortified
bastions, to steal what little was to be had.  Being way, way out in the
"boondocks" I was rarely bothered.  The looting and killing centered mostly
around the towns and smaller hamlets.  I kept a "low-profile" and was
overlooked by these roving bands of thieves and murderers.  I had learned,
early on to keep the lights low or off at night.  The light would attract
the odd squatter, Twice I had to defend myself and my property, but that
amounted to shooting at most only two or three, before the rest gave up,
considering me too tough a nut to crack.

   Time plodded on and more and more of those ill-prepared died-off.

   The attacks became fewer and fewer until a point was reached where there
seemed to be nothing but peace in the land.  The Polar shift had caused
some interesting weather for awhile, but eventually the good, old earth
figured herself out and we could all get down to the business of living
again.  I frist became aware of "normalcy" when a vehicle pulled up a my
gate.  It had evidently been an older military vehicle.  now painted with
the county sheriffs star emblazoned on its doors.  A solid and kindly
looking soul sauntered up to my door and kinocked (!!??) Most folks out to
steal what you have don't knock.  They try to break the door down.  My door
had been constructed of 5 inch thick solid oak.  This wouldn't break down
too easily.  I kept my Henry rifle in my hand and opened the door.  There
stood and old and dear friend.  Jim Bridger had been Sheriff in our county
for some time, and here he was, "just checking on you, bud".  I invited him
in and offered him some coffee.  He whistled and said he hadn't had a
decent cup in over a year.  I made him his coffee and gave him a two-pound
can.  He accepted it and told me not to let folks around these parts know
that I might have food.  He took his cup and drank the coffee almost
reverentially.  He kept his eyes closed, evidently savoring the liquid He
opened his eyes, looked at me and asked "how're you fixed?".  He wanted to
know if I needed anything.  He said he didn't have a whole lot, but if he
could spare it, it'd be mine.  I liked and trusted Jim.  I told him that I
was okay for the time-being and did HE need anything.  He said he'd run out
of ammo 3 months before.  but still had the now-uselss weapon "for show'. I
fetched a .45 auto for him and 3 boxes of shells.  I thought he was going
to cry.  Jim and his wife, Mary had welcomed me back in '10 when I moved to
the area.  We had become fast friends and could usually be found either
hunting at his place or working on a micro-brewery at my place.  I made
beer for my own consumption, but ol' Jim had a real liking to the stuff I
made.  I always did like appreciative folks.  Jim had lost Mary to a looter
early on and I couldn't help feeling that the world was a poorer place for
it.  He asked me to come into town when I had the chance, he wanted to make
me his right hand.  Jim needed help, it seemed.  Folks up here generally
were a contented lot.  They also planned for the future and in so doing had
laid up their own supplies.  Few, if any, had any real needs.  The
medicines and other medical supplies I had would, I know.  help with any
gaps.  I showed Jim what I had and he gratefully accepted about half the
medical supplies.  "No need to tempt folks with an over-abundance.".  He
asked that I keep most of it here at home.  I asked him where he'd been
living.  He'd moved out of the little house that he and Mary had. ..He
couldn't take it after her death.  I offered to let him stay in my guest
room.  He thanked me profusely but said that he had been caring for and
looking after Mary's younger sister, Margie.  There were other problems he
had said but they could wait.  He asked me to come as soon as I was able.
He said that I had been pretty well organized and he could use a hand
keeping things together.  I made up my mind that, once I had secured my
place from any looters, I'd go and help Jim out.  I had brought the old
Wagoneer out and had been successful at getting her started.  I loaded my
Henry, strapped on a .45 auto and thought myself well situated.  I drove
into town and received a real shock at the conditions that met my gaze.

   The town had been a nice, little town.  A typical Southern hamlet. 
County Courthouse in the central sqaure surrounded by clean streets and
little shops hard by.  The Courthouse had been partially burned-down, the
storefronts looked like holes in a skull.  The streets were littered with
what looked like, what..................body parts?  I slowly drove to the
site of the Sheriff's Office.  There Jim had erected a barricade, like an
old medieval fortress.  I was waved through and Jim came out as I parked
the car.  He had always liked the old Wagoneer, but told me that I needed
to "mess it up a little".  Folks might get the "wrong Idea".  I agreed and
he had some of the boys, "muss it up some." I looked at him and he just
said "Things have changed a 'mite." That's when I found out just what had
happened in this world.  Law and order, or a semblance of it, ruled the
day. Anarchy and lawlessness, the night.  Jim had been hard-pressed just to
keep what little order there actually was.  Folks up here, though, don't
really need a lot of tending to.  They're a pretty self-reliant lot, as
I've said.  Jim said that his immediate needs were the refugees coming from
"God alone knows".  His paramount problem was not housing or feeding them,
people had given of thier bounty to help.  The problem was, their
protection.  At night, looters and such would steal into the places
taken-over by the refugees and rob, rape and kill.  There just weren't
enough sworn men to help.  He'd lost three sworn men to the outlaws.  Any
more losses and he'd be in REAL trouble.  I asked about the "Guard Armory".
He'd said it'd been stripped and burned to the ground in the first few days
after the Collapse.I asked him if any 'veterans had come back from D.C.. 
His eyes lit up and his hand smacked his forehead.  "Dang it, I should've
thought about thet!!" He found a list of Veterans and sent a Deputy to try
and find some of them and see if we couldn't get some experienced help. 
Jim beamed at me and said he knew there was a reason he liked me.  It's the
first time I saw a little relief come into his bone-tired frame.  Within 3
hours, the Deputy had contacted over 20 of the vets.  12 of those stalwarts
stood before Jim now, taking the oath of office.  Most of them, like me,
had had small armories at their homes.  They accounted for the Sheriff's
men now being more than just adequately supplied with arms.  That first
night, the outlaws got a real shellacking.  After their little debacle at
the refugee camp.  they rarely,if ever, came back to bother us again. 
Since gasoline was scarce, Jim had some that was supplied by the State, I
took my car back home and opted for a horse.  The other deputies were all
pretty much born in the saddle, so now we had ourselves a force to be
reckoned with.  I had been a student of Medieval fortification, an armchair
historian, really.  Jim and I set about strengthening our position.  When
it came to the question of manpower, we had the refugees to thank.  Like I
said, there was no problem in the feeding or housing and, with the
augmented sheriff's force, we could protect them AND the rest of the county
as well.  The few outlaws we took alive didn't last long.  Justice,
perforce, was meted out on a "drumhead".  Once the guilty verdict was
announced, they were shown to the Oak that still stood in the square.  They
were hanged and left to dangle for a couple of days as a warning.  When
they started to stink, they were take down and cremated.  No sense wasting
manpower on digging a grave.  No onw knew who they were, anyway.  The
refugees, worked as best they could, some had a knowledge of building,
others, well, what they knew would have been usefull in that other time,
now, their knowledge was useless.  Others wondered aloud what was to become
of them?  That, it seemed, was the question.

   There were children, lots of them.  Too small to be taken as hostages
and little or no chance on their own, they flocked to the camps, begging
for food or whatever scraps they could find.  It was horrible.  Your heart
goes out to the little ones.  But, what to do?  Some were placed with folks
in the outlying areas.  Folks that had, not only room, but food and an
abundance of love as well.  took the little 'mites in.  We had placed as
many of the little ones as we could.  The State had instituted a revamped
"indentured servitude" law to cover displaced persons that could not be
returned to their homes or families.  That and the State needed a ready
source of specie.  Money.  It always boiled down to Money.  That's what
killed the US of A.  At first I was shocked that "slavery" was
reintroduced. After reading the new law, though, it made better sense.  It
wasn't "slavery".  One didn't "own" the people outright.  It was a set of
rules whereby people could work, have a roof over their heads and clothes
on their backs, a warm place to sleep and a trade, a necessary trade in
this new world, to learn and to contribute.  Contracts were for 7 years, or
in the case of children, until the age of majority, whechever was longest
usually about 16 or so.  Folks would need help rebuilding, the refugees
could do that work.  The law also specified that a certain sum was to be
paid the Indentured servant.  This money could be paid to them directly or
kept "on account" where the servant could draw if they needed to.  It was a
good, sound system and it worked, for a while.  It DID work, but only for a
while.  Contracts usually weren't worth the paper they were written on and
after several years, the contracts were just forgotten.  The State didn't
have the means to enforce the new laws and the Counties, try as they might,
could only really enforce the worst offenders.  The Counties enacted their
own laws.  They were meant to protect.  as much as possible, the worst
abuses.  Besides, the "slavers" were bringing in a lot of gold and silver
coin, something that ANY government needs to run.

   One law was that you couldn't use a lash or whip.  You also couldn't use
torture.  You could not harm in any way, shape or form any servant on your
property or in your care.  A few arrests and confiscations fixed that
problem, pretty quick.  I still held that the original law as written, was
still a law that had to be obeyed.  I needed some help on my property, I
decided that I'd had about 12 acres I could farm, providing a ready income
for myself and for those I tried to care for.  I "purchased" and older man
and his wife, both black, to help me farm.  Jim had arranged that the land
surrounding mine be made available to me since the owners were probably
dead since they had lived in a far city and no one had heard or seen them
since before the Collapse.  I purchased, from the County, those acres and
ended up with a little over 50 total acres.  My servants had a good deal of
farming experience so I put therm to work tilling the soil and preparing
the fields for planting.  I had a nice house built for them, two bedrooms,
a parlor and kitchen with a separate dining room.  Not very big, but, as
Joseph and Wilma had said, nicer than they'd ever had.  Joseph and Wilma,
their names, had referred to themselves as slaves.  I did my best to
convince them that thar was NOT the case.  I found I was butting my head
against a brick wall.  If people get it into their heads that they are
something, you'll never be able to convince them otherwise.  I DID see that
they were paid and even had drawing accounts set-up for them.  Some of the
other "owners" also set-up accounts for theirs as well, but cheated their
servants on a regular basis.  They would pay monies into the separate
accounts and as the servants required this or that, would deduct the monies
from the servants accounts.  Not me.  I would pay out of my pocket or the
profits from the farm.  What I gave them was theris Period.  It wasn't very
long before we had had several acres planted of corn, peas, beans and
wheat. We had a smaller area planted for cukes, peppers, melons and
pumpkin. I also used Joseph to help me with the brewery.  Jim Bridger had
used a little pull in Charlotte to get me a license to sell my beer.  I had
been the first in the State to be licensed.  I had started with only making
a few barrels for my own.  I soon found that I could make 5 barrels a week
and sell every last barrel, at a nice profit, too.  Soon the brewery was
bringing in more money than the farm was.  We still planted, but we needed
the farm products for barter for the things we lacked.  I made sure that
Joseph and Wilma got their share of the brewery money, too.  I gave credit
where credit was due.

   Joseph, Wilma and I had gone into town, one afternoon.  I had purchased
a "buckboard" and two Percheron draft horses about two years back.  Joseph
used the two huge but gentle horses for farming and we used them to deliver
the beer from the brewery.  We had just made such a delivery and decided to
stop in town for some supplies and maybe a little entertainment.  Wilma was
thrilled.  I always smiled at the way she bustled about doing her
"necessary shopping".  I left Joseph and Wilma to their own devices and
stopped in to see my old friend, Jim.  My good friend had done well for
himself.  He was no longer Sheriff, having appointed a younger man.  He was
now the County Administrator.  He ran the county.  I had'nt turned in my
star and wondered aloud if I should.  Jim would have none of it.  He said
he still needed me and my being a "sworn man" was important to him.  We
talked for a bit and I could see that my timing had been a bit off.  Jim
was busy as most folks in that position would be.  He had married his
wife's younger sister, Margie and she was quite adamant about him being
home for lunch.  I almost envied him.  They had been out to the house a few
times, but County business had kept him busy and the times he and Margie
came out were fewer and fewer.  I saw and talked with several friends that
I had met over the years, I shared a glass of "whiskey" with another man
that held the same views about things that I did.  I also met a couple
recently moved down from Wisconsin, looking for a better life and finding
things just as tough as "back home".  He had evidently been looking for
ME??

   Gustav and his wife Hildegaard were the Muellers.  They had been 3rd
generation Americans and Gustav had worked in the commercial breweries.  I
fairly jumped at the man.  We fell to talking about hops and barleys, the
local waters, etc., He and Hilde' were not wealthy and were hoping I needed
help.  He needed a job.  I didn't know it until that moment that I needed
him almost as bad as he needed me.  I told them that they were welcome to
come and live and work with us.  He and Hilde' said they wanted to be
indentured.  I told him what had happened with that law, but also made it
clear that I held to the "old law".  HE and his wife understood and said
that at that moment they didn't have much of a choice.  We shook hands to
seal the deal.  I took them over to the buckboard and gave them a little
advance as I'm sure they needed a few things of their own.  I set off again
to take another turn around the town to give them a little chance to talk
things over and to give Wilma a little more time.

   It was about this time that I ran into the slaver, Chester.  I didn't
like the man and didn't trust him, either.  He was a slight man, not just
dirty, but filthy.  I don't think he washed more than twice a year.  His
beard, if one could call such a mess that, was matted and tangled.  His
clothes looked rotten and ready to fall off.  And the SMELL.  The "aroma"
that arose from this being would have killed a buzzard outright.  He was
plying his trade, hawking the attributes of what appeared to be a young,
half-starved girl-child.  This poor unfortunate couldn't have been more
than 10 years old, but had a look in her eyes that spoke of a deeper
sadness.  All the while he was telling folks about how good and "tractable"
this young-un was, he was fondling her backside with his hand.  In that
hand he carried a whip.  You could see the poor dear fairly shudder every
time it touched her.  Chester loved the feeling of power that it gave him.
My blood boiled.  I was about to advance on the man to give him "what-for",
when a hand laid on my shoulder to stop me.  I turned to see Jim smiling at
me and saying "He ain't worth the thrashing, bud.  Left it go".  I looked
at my old friend and pointed out the whip in Chester's hands.  I could see
the visage in my friends' face darken and knew that it boded ill for the
slaver.  Jim turned and smiled at me and said "What say we go give him a
bit of his own medicine?" I said "Why, yes!!  Let's!!".  Jim and I strode
over to the slaver and I exposed my badge of office.  The slaver turned to
acknowledge us and got back to his selling.  The bastard didn't even try to
hide the lash.  I grabbed the little fucker and fairly threw him up against
the wall.  He proclaimed loud and long that his "Bidness was all
proper-legal and all".  He also said that I had no "bidness rousting him
and I'd here from his legal man".  I informed him that our County outlawed
the use of the whip and lash and he was in violation of that law and could
you come along quietly, now?

   Jim made a small coughing sound and said that "Mebbe we could reach an
agreenent without having to tie up the courts.  After all, the punishment
for the whip or lash was 20 lashes in the Central Square." Chester turned a
sickly white color.  At the same time, I think his bowels were about to
loosen at the thought of the lash on his back.  Good ol' Jim!!  We quickly
came to an agreement.  I would take the little one off of Chester's hands,
Jim would banish Chester for a period of one year.  Should he break that
agreement, he'd go immediately to the Square for his 20 lashes plus 10 more
for breaking a Contract with the County.  Needless to say, we didn't see
Chester for about 3 years!!!

   I hadn't planned on picking up another Indentured Servant, certainly not
a little girl-child, I was wondering what I was supposed to do NOW, when my
"old buddy" decided he had to get along to his lunch or he'd have to face
Margie.  I just smiled and shook my head.  The gaze that met mine shook my
world and shocked me to my very core.  A protectiveness welled up inside me
that had not been there before.  Woe to the individual that tried to bring
harm to THIS little one.  Her name was Mo', probably short for Maureen. 
Sandy blonde hair, dirty and matted like Chesters', a smalll sack were her
only clothes, sandals shod her feet.  I could've cried and damned nearly
did, too.  Thank God for Wilma and Joseph.  They had been standing near by
and witnessed the whole affair.  Wilma came down like a rescueing,
avengeing angel and scooped little Mo' up in her arms.  Chatting to her all
the while.  I introduced Gustav and Hilde' to Joseph and Wilma.  They
seemed to get along pretty well.  Hilde' immediately joined forces with
Wilma to press me for things that Mo' was going to need.  Figures.  I
happily turned over the rest of the contents of my purse and they set off!!
Joseph, Gustav and I headed for the tavern.  Joseph, seeing my condition,
insisted on buying.  It was about two hours later and a not just a few
silver ounces lighter, we set off for home.  Gustav and Hilde' had their
own wagon and would camp until we could get their house built.  Wilma
insisted that the little one stay with them until she could "get her
trained up and prettified for her new mastuh".  I had no idea what Wilma
and Hilde' had in mind.  Both Joseph and Gustav told me that when women
whisper, it's not a good idea to try and interfere.  Having been married
once before, I had to agree, grudgeingly, but agree nonetheless.  

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+