Wolf
Ever since the Calamity you have driven to Scotland every year for the Summer. Global warming is gradually retreating with everything that happened but Summer is still too hot for you in the South, so you pack up your home and head for the Scottish hills. Your home is a converted bus. Built in the 21st Century, and much altered since it took tourists on holiday, you put a lot of effort into making yourself a compact and mobile home.
This year, you had decided to explore the West coast where it was easy to find a secluded place to park up and run free. It was on the way back that, in need of a dump and a leg stretch, and reluctant to use the on-board facilities, you stop at what looks like a nice pub with charging facilities to top up the batteries. After a couple of sips of your pint in the bar you follow directions to the toilets. They are pretty disgusting but you have some wet wipes for the seat and the writing on the walls gives you something to look at while you did your business. Apparently Kirsty has a cunt the size of The Caledonian Canal and Angus has a very small cock.
You abandon the rest of your beer and while you walk back to the camper you see a woman trying the door. You are right behind her before she notices you, but she seems unfazed at being caught red handed. She is thin and unkempt - one of the tens-of-thousands of displaced people who lost everything in the Calamity and have little or no hope of regaining a life.
You automatically reach into your pocket and produce a few notes - maybe she will buy a meal or maybe drugs. You don't really care. You can see the track marks on her arm as she takes them. Then you spot the children - two dirty faces peering round from the back of the camper. She beckons them over and they reluctantly come forward. They are both scrawny to the point of emaciation and very dirty. They have scabs on their knees and elbows and what look like flea bites on their arms. They are not attractive children.
"You like kids," she asks. You turn and look at her. "They are grubby but the don't got any disease," she says, and you realise that she is offering them to you for sex. Your first thought is to say "No Thanks" and leave, but as they stand there with their eyes wide and something makes you hesitate. "Is it possible?"
"An hour. Fifty with either one, or both for seventy-five," she says as she sees you hesitate.
"How much to keep them," you ask, wondering if you are making a huge mistake.
She looks nonplussed. "Keep?"
"Yes, Keep. Adopt. Buy. Do you have their paperwork? Birth certificates and such?"
She nods thoughtfully. "You mean like... You would take them?" A greedy look comes in her eyes. They are probably a liability anyway. "A thousand... Each," she says.
You would have paid a lot more, but she sees you, an old man and the scruffy camper and makes assumptions. "Show me their papers."
Telling them to stay put, she practically runs over to a derelict car on the other side of the car park and soon returns with a battered briefcase. You open it and look inside. You see two folders and the top document in each is a genuine-looking birth certificate. Joshua Stone, Mother, Audrey Stone, Father unknown. The date of birth made him about six and a half. His sister, Samantha is nearly five. Also in the bag is a battered teddy bear and a rag doll.
"Two thousand," you say and she nods. You turn to the children. "Would you like to come with me," you ask. They both nod, seemingly unconcerned at leaving their mother, if that's who she really was.
Half an hour later, with the children sitting on the floor out of sight and the batteries fully charged, you glide smoothly out of the car park and set off back the way you came. If anyone is interested, you don't want them following, but the road is pretty deserted. After half an hour, you turn off into a side road and then into a field out of sight of the road. You press the button to lower the legs and level the bus lifting the wheels off the ground. You extend the sitting area, pull out the awning and set up the barbecue while the two kids watch silently.
The water heater has been running ever since you left the pub. While the barbecue charcoal is heating up, you set up the shower. It's a tiny compartment that also accommodates a toilet. "Time for a wash," you say. "Not just hands, your whole bodies. I'll find you something clean to wear until I can get you some proper clothes." They look at you, their expressions eloquent. "Yes, you have to strip off and do your best to wash at least the top layer of grime from your scrawny little bodies. When you are clean, we can eat."
You root around in a locker and dig out some old towels and a couple of T-shirts. Grateful Dead and Jimi Hendrix. When you look up, they are down to their underwear and standing hesitantly by the shower. You sit down. "You first," you say to Josh. "Sam, there's a bin bag over there, gather up your clothes and put them in it."
"Let's have those pants off," you say to Josh. He looks at his sister who nods and he pulls the dirty garment down revealing what looks to your inexperienced eyes a sizeable cock. He gets into the shower and you wet him down. Navy showers are the rule in the camper, with limited hot water. You grab a sponge, soap him all over and work some shampoo int his hair. Judging by the colour of the water when you rinse him off, it will take a few more showers to get him clean.
Sam takes off her panties and puts them in the bag with the other clothes. The scabs on her knees and elbows are superficial and, once she is in the shower, you carefully clean her up as much as you can. Her pussy looks sore and she winces when you wash between her legs, but she says nothing. When you finish, you wrap her in a towel. Outside, her brother has discarded his towel and is chasing butterflies. Sam, follows suit and you sit on the step to watch the naked children running happily around.
The bread is a couple of days old, but the burgers and the squares of Scotch sausage meat are fresh and even made (mostly) with real meat. You look over at the skinny kids and add extra to the feast. You keep them naked while they eat, knowing that a good deal of grease and tomato sauce will not make it into their mouths and when they have eaten their fill, you ask them to tell you about themselves.
After a resounding burp, Josh tells you pretty much what what you had expected. Their father buggered off not long after Sam was born and their mother had taken up with a roving band of thieves. Small children are always useful for posting through windows and they were lucky to survive shotguns and dogs at some of the the places. When the leader of the gang decided to use six-year-old Josh for his sexual gratification, their mother stood by and did nothing. It wasn't long before someone turned his attention to his younger sister.
When the gang broke up, their mother realised that she could use them as a source of income. She needed money for drugs and there were always men who were willing to pay for sex with the kids. Then she had heard of some lawyer in Glasgow who paid good money for kids and found homes for them, but her ancient car had broken down on the way. She had been stuck at the pub for a week before you turned up and took them off her hands. You wonder how long she will last with all that money in her pocket.
You clean them up again with a wet flannel and give them the T-shirts. Josh gets the Grateful Dead and Sam laughs to see him in what looks like a dress - the first time you heard either of them laugh. You do the washing up and then settle down with a bottle of beer and a pipe.
They are whispering to each other behind the van and you wait patiently until they come and stand in front of you. "Are you gonna fuck us," Josh asks.
You look them up and down, Even cleaned up, they are not all that attractive. Only the eyes had that promise of... Something. "No," you say.