A shell shocked soldier enjoys some of the spoils of war
Drywall and wood chippings rained on the soldiers helmet, as the sound of far off artillery shook the dilapidated building. For a brief moment, the soldier froze under the doorway, not so much from the knowledge that the doorway was the most sturdy part of what was left of this building, as from primal instinct, some superstitious fear that any movement on his part, no matter how subtle, might somehow cause the building to buckle, and finally come crashing down.
The blast sound echoed into the distance, and the soldier regained his composure. Tightening his grip on his gun, he stepped out into the rubble filled street.
The city around him was dead, broken and beaten from weeks of continuous shelling. Where there were once businesses, homes, and people, now there were only skeletons. Skeletons of businesses, their windows broken by looters, their insides gutted by fire damage, bones of rebar jutting out of steel, wood, and concrete. Corpses of homes, once idyllic, peaceful sanctuaries from the outside world, now torn open and laid bare by the continuous bombing the city had sustained for the past several weeks. And the corpses. Rotting, bloated corpses, twisted in disgusting, impossible entanglements, some incomplete, most in pieces. A lot of the fragmentation bombs the army had shelled the city with didn't hit their targets precisely; rather they landed in close proximity to their targets. People who happened to be hiding in basements, or scampering through the streets scurrying for food, shelter, or anything else needed to survive. When the blasts "missed" them, the concussive force from the shells were enough to rip the life from them, rending their bodies like rag dolls, tossing and twisting them in morbid, impossible configurations. More than one body the soldier had seen, with torso rotated 180 degrees, or with a back broken in two like a splintered stick, the torso only connected to the legs by a string of torn muscle, skin, and nerves.
As the soldier patrolled the lifeless, cratered street, he wondered exactly what the point of this whole exercise was. He looked around at the rubbish and bodies around him: it was mostly broken niceties which had no part in a war, things like broken furniture, damaged electronics, discarded toys. The bodies were mostly female; women and young girls who tried to escape the advance of the oncoming army by hiding in basements and shelters. The men and boys, for their part, had mostly come out to die on the front lines. To die and kill his comrades.
He heard a loud bang, and a window in front of him broke. Instantly he spun around, pulling on the trigger of his rifle, unleashing a torrent of steel tipped rage into the mound of rubbish behind him. He held the trigger down until the percussion of exploding rounds quiet and the kicking of the rifle butt ceased. The street was deathly quiet, with not even the sound of the wind being heard.
Reloading his rifle, the soldier advanced, searching for the whoever or whatever had lain in wait and fired at him. Even though most of the males had gone up to the front lines, there were still pockets of resistance in the city, young teenage boys, not officially old enough to go into the army, but still old enough to hold a gun, and pose a threat to invaders like him.
He stepped over a small pile of rubble, and peered behind the large mound he had just fired into, gun at the ready.
Lying on the ground, freshly bloodied, he saw three bodies, young boys, reduced to meat by the rounds from his rifle. He walked up to the closest one, and kicked him over onto his back. His eyes were frozen open, and he stared unmoving up into the gray sky. His bullet wounds were fresh, and still pouring blood: no doubt about it, this was the one who had tried to shoot at him.
He checked the other two, kicking their mutilated bodies over. One of them had his hand tightly clenched around something. The soldier bent down, and pried his small hand open. Two rocks rolled out of the dead boy's palm.
The soldier stood up, disgusted and angered by his new discovery. Rocks. These boys had gotten themselves filled full of steel and lead to throw rocks at him. Didn't they know, this war was over, their army had surrendered, almost all of their soldiers were dead. Why couldn't they just give up, and surrender, or at least stay hidden. Stupid animals, he thought to himself. He stood up, and fired a burst into the nearest boy.
He heard a gasp, and then a scampering above him. He looked up, and saw pebbles falling from the ledge above. Quickly, he ran around to the side, hoping to be able to head off whoever it was who was now watching him.
The ledge sloped down, and the soldier saw a pink and white flash scampering down the incline of the ledge. "Hey you, stop!" he shouted. He fired into the air, and for a moment, the figure stopped. The soldier lunged to catch up to it, but just as quickly as the figure froze, it began running again, its smallish figure ducking into another mound of rubbish.
The soldier was angry now: before when he thought it was some teenage boys shooting at him, he had been angry enough. Somehow, the thought of being pestered and maligned by little kids incensed him, and made the anger which he had carried inside him this entire battle boil over: he didn't want to be here, shooting at nameless faceless vagrants who were just too greedy to be happy with their own land, and too stupid to know when to quit. It seemed that these animals would never leave him alone, whether he was minding his own business on his farm, or running recon missions in unoccupied territory. Now their home city was broken, defeated. Why didn't they just give up and admit defeat?
He fired randomly into the pile of rubble, hoping partly to flush the quarry out, but also partly to kill it. He circled the pile methodically, every so often firing one or two bursts into the pile. After every shot, he heard scampering, as the quarry repositioned itself in the maze of fallen rebar, concrete, and building fragments.
The soldier tripped and stumbled as he stepped over a broken brick. "Damnit," he swore, as he began firing full blast into the rubble. For a second, he was sure that he had his target. The drum of the bullets thundered into the rubble, and then ceased. The soldier pulled on his trigger, the gun clicking as it tried to fire from the empty magazine. After a few moments, he realized that he had emptied his magazine. For a brief moment he glance down, to retrieve another magazine. He heard a loud rustling, and he looked up to see the figure scampering out of its hiding place. He locked his new magazine into his rifle and ran off after it.
Before the soldier could even get a good start, the figure had already cleared a good 15 yards, and had darted into an old gutted building which remained fairly intact as compared to the other buildings.
Enraged, the soldier followed her, darting after her into the building. As he dashed through the doorway, he slipped, and fell, losing control of his balance and his gun.
The rifle hit the ground, butt first, and went off, firing a sporadic burst above the fallen soldier's head.
For a moment the soldier froze, believing he was being shot at. Anger quickly reoriented him, and he scrambled to his feet, angered even more by the humiliating spill that he had just taken, and the fact that he had nearly just killed himself.
He grabbed his rifle, and took a quick inventory of where he was. This looked like an old security building, an apartment before the war. The hallway was filled with debris shaken loose from the ceiling from the recent shellings. The soldier hesitated for a moment: the hallway was lined with doors, doors to old, long uninhabited apartments. At least that's what he believed. It occurred to him that perhaps other mercenaries or occupants might still be in the apartments, and he didn't want to risk leaving his back exposed to a group of rooms which could contain anything.
He looked at the girl as she ran down the hallway, her slim legs scampering over the debris and rubbish like a monkey. Anger filled him once again, and he began to pursue her down the hallway, his long legs easily navigating the cluttered hallway.
When the girl got to the end of the hall, she tried to escape back out onto the street. She slammed against the exit door, but for some reason, the door wouldn't move. As the soldier closed in on her, she turned and darted up the stairwell to the second floor.
The soldier slowed his pursuit now: his quarry was desperate, and running out of options. She couldn't go back down now, and unless she could fly, eventually she would run into a dead end.
Briskly, he started up the stairs, slowing when he saw her, struggling to open the door to the next level. She was swearing and cursing in some unintelligible language.
"TURN AROUND!!!" he shouted.
The girl stopped, and slowly turned around as he ordered. Her knees were shaking, and wobbling as he approached her.
The soldier was angry now, and undecided as to what exactly he should do. This girl was no longer a threat to him, but he was angry for having been made to chase her all this way through the street, through the building, up the staircase. He looked at her, her slight frame shivering with fear, her fists clenched in apprehension as she pondered what to do next. He knew what it was she was thinking, and what to expect next: as she screamed and charged him, he quickly backhanded her against the wall, sending her tiny frame flying awkwardly to the floor.
From somewhere deep inside him, an unnatural, sadistic hate welled up, as he looked at the young girl who had just attacked him. He kicked her in the stomach, and she doubled over, curling into a ball to protect her vulnerable body.
As she lay huddled there, crying, it occurred to him that they were the only two people in the building. As her soft sobs filled the hallway, he felt a perverse desire stirring with him, and his pants tighten, as his desire began to materialize in his mind.
Reaching down, he lifted the girl up by one shoulder. Ah he picked her up, she began struggling, biting his sleeve and kicking at him. He quickly slapped her down to the floor again, and continued slapping her even as she fell to the ground. He smacked and punched her until she was curled up again, crying and shivering.
"Stupid bitch," the soldier said as he hoisted his newly subdued prisoner to her feet. He grabbed her by her t-shirt, a dingy, torn white rag, and tossed her against the wall, handcuffing her hands behind her back.
With his prisoner in front of him at gunpoint, the soldier searched for an apartment which was unlocked, abandoned, but relatively unlived in. Even though none of the apartments were habitated anymore, some of the apartments were in greater disrepair than others. In a few he had found dead bodies, killed in their homes and rotting in their unmarked, unheralded graves.
Eventually he found what he was looking for, as he opened the door to an apartment which hadn't been moved into, or lived in by anyone beforehand, bare of everything except for some curtain rods. As he forced the prisoner inside, it occurred to him that maybe he could stay here, go AWOL in this building until his troop left: with the invading army gone, and most of the inhabitants captured or dead, he could make himself a nice living here in the building. His own private mansion, with his own private bitch.
He shoved the girl to the floor, and smacked her again once for good measure. She spat on him, and he slapped her again. His penis was tingling now, as he looked at the helpless, frail figure laid sprawled on the ground before him.
She was like a helpless doll lying there, a pale, frail helpless doll, his to do with whatever he pleased. He knelt on the ground beside her, and began slipping her torn shorts off. She began struggling, trying to roll away from him, but he grabbed her by her bound arms, and restrained her as he ripped the cloth from her legs.
As she struggled, he felt the excitement building with him, as his newly captured prey struggled to escape the fate he had planned for her. Still holding her, he took out his knife, and slowly cut her panties off, revealing her tiny, bare pale ass.
She began squirting bursts of urine onto the carpet, as she tried to clamp her legs together. The smell of her fear excited him, and as she urinated, he unbuckled his pants, and slid them down just enough to free his erect penis. It slapped against his stomach, free from its cage, and now eager to taste the juices of the prey which was subdued here before it.
He pried apart her legs, slowly, savoring every moment of her resistance as he overpowered her, until at last the flower of her sex was vulnerable, spread bare to the world.
He rubbed his stiff cock head against her pussy, already wet and moist from her reflexive urination. As he pushed, the feel of her tight pussy lips closing around the head of his penis sent electric thrills of pleasure throughout his body. Slowly, he plunged forward, slowly driving his hips forward until he could push no further.
The girl struggled and tried to kick underneath the bulky soldiers driving weight, in a futile struggle to protect her innocence. In moaning sobs, she began cursing him in a foreign language as he cruelly violated her. The soldier found this arousing, her struggle and frantic resistance adding to the thrill he felt from raping this uppity little girl.
He pulled on her long black hair, using it as a rein as he began to quicken his thrusts. He held her head closer to his chest, as he pressed her into the carpet, using all of his weight to rape her, to fuck her like a grown woman. Slowly, her struggling and crying gave way to stillness, and moaning sobs of pleasure, as the girl accepted her fate. Her hips began slowly rocking in time with his thrusts, as she began to give in to her desires. Tears still ran down her face, as her body betrayed her, and like an animal, she began to yield to the beast who was violating her, her body rewarding his cruel penetration and aching for more attention.
Eventually, the soldier climaxed, propping himself up on his arms, as he pumped his load into her raw stretched vagina, his hips quivering as he forcefully inseminated his victim. When he was satisfied, he pulled himself out, his penis making a slurping sound as he withdrew from her vagina. The soldier pulled himself up, and sat back, admiring his handiwork.
The girl lay there now, legs spread, still quivering from the exertion of trying to fight off her attacker, and then being fucked. She no longer tried to resist, but lay there silently, breathing slowly, exhausted from her own orgasms. Cum dripped out of her pussy, and soaked the floor below her.
He thought she looked beautiful there, his property, exhausted, spent, filled with his own seed. He enjoyed the fucking, but even more, he enjoyed the thought that he owned this little girl now. Her pleasure and pain was his to give: he could fuck her whenever he pleased, however long he pleased. He felt a stirring in his loins again, and, eager to assert his newfound dominance over her, he slowly mounted her, methodically invading her stretched, raw pussy once again. The girl moaned as he entered her, but she did not resist: she was broken, and her pussy was now his to enjoy. All she could do was accept her newfound fate, and moan softly in forced, humiliating pleasure as he began to take her once again.