Girl Scout Troop Master
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2016 by Wyden Long

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Hermit meets bus load of Girl Scouts in peril. What should he do?

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Teenagers   Consensual   BiSexual   Aliens   Extra Sensory Perception   Post Apocalypse   Harem   Orgy   Black Female   Nudism  

I guess you could call me a ‘loner’, because I am just as happy being alone as when surrounded by crowds. A big part of that may be due to my having grown up a long time ago, when self reliance was popular because it could be (and frequently was) critical to survival. I don’t depend on others for my survival or my happiness.

On the other hand, I can enjoy a group of like-minded individuals as much as anyone--provided I can find them. Most people don’t think like I do. Witness the fact that the great majority of Americans equate nudity with Devil worship and I spend as much time as possible among committed nudists. I don’t find these people to have any more or less sexuality than non-nudists and they are certainly no less moral, but they have learned that nudity and sexual activity are separate concepts. Sometimes I wish this were not so, especially when strolling among 10,000 or so naked Europeans on a Mediterranean beach and wishing that there were some way to make closer contact with them.

Needless to say, my loner personality also leads me to live in places where many others would be concerned with their safety. In the recent past, I have lived in the Arizona desert, miles from civilization, on an isolated mountain top in the Smokies, as well as on a nude beach in Europe. Interspersed with these locations have been apartments in large cities as well as smaller towns and villages in various continents.

In each of these locations, I have found enough things to do to keep my mind occupied, while enjoying whatever uniqueness might be offered by that location. In every case, it would have made the experience more enjoyable if there had been a suitably minded companion to share the experience with, but there wasn’t, so, “Oh, well”. At least solitude was far preferable to being there with my last wife, but enough about her.

My present status resulted from a decision I made to investigate off-grid life and survival. Many of the recent events in America have made me have less confidence in the system and it seemed appropriate to hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

Accordingly, I set out to plan ways to overcome the difficulties of life in the raw, if it came to pass that survival depended on my ability to return to the lifestyle in which I was reared. Younger people seem to take it as some sort of insult when I talk about not having the things as a child on which they are so dependent. Not only do I have no need to remain in continuous communication with my peers, but I actively detest such arrangements and regard them as an intrusion on my privacy.

Younger people seem to interpret my choice as an inability to operate the mechanisms of constant communication. In fact, my career was spent in the development of the technologies that they like to think are beyond my ken because I do not choose to function in the same way as their peers.

My first priority was to find an adequate location, followed by the provision of adequate housing. Food would become important as soon as my immediate stash was consumed and protection of all sorts would become increasingly important if the world did, indeed, hop into the handbasket headed for Hell, as seemed to be a distinct possibility.

Some groups approach the concept of survival by storing food, fuel or ammunition. Regardless of the amount stored, there will come a time when it is used up. Rifles become poorly balanced clubs when there is no more ammunition. Generators have no value, whatsoever, without fuel. Stored food does not last forever, regardless of the amount stored.

My goal is to become entirely self sufficient, as my family was during my childhood. Yes, I can now fly across the Atlantic in less time than it took me to walk twenty miles when I was a kid. Yes, I can now instantly communicate with someone anywhere in the world and have the entire knowledge of the world at my fingertips. Has either of these advances made me more happy? Could I be as happy as I was then if I no longer had the trappings of modern society? I think so. It beats the hell out of fighting over the last can of soup in a world filled with starving people.

Do I have the right to plan for my own survival when most everyone else is likely to perish if the possible societal breakdown does occur? I don’t know whether I have the right, but I have the will and the ability, so that is my intention.

I was putting the finishing touches on the pedestal for the wind turbine when I heard the crash.

I grabbed my jacket and headed toward the source of the sound. At the last second, I decided to take my rifle along. Yes, I know it will be useless after the ammo is gone, but I am very sparing with the ammo and hope to be completely competent with the bow before the ammo is gone. Until I know these woods better, it may be a good idea to always carry my rifle when out and about.

As I approached the road, I saw a horrible sight. A small bus loaded with Girl Scouts had run off the road and was canted toward the edge of a steep drop of several hundred feet. The girls were screaming and crying in panic.

Closer inspection showed that the driver appeared to have been the victim of an air bag deployment that went horribly wrong. Her head lolled at an unnatural angle, as if her neck were broken, and there was a huge pot hole in the road several feet behind the bus that could have caused sufficient impact to set off the air bag.

My immediate concern was in getting the girls off the bus before it went over the edge of the precipice. However, no amount of calling and whistling could penetrate their panic and I could see the bus teetering as if it might go on over the edge very soon unless something was done very quickly.

In spite of my desire to conserve ammo, this looked like one of those times when there was little choice. I fired off a round into the air.

At least it shocked them enough to focus their attention on me long enough for me to get through to them that I was there to help them.

Adopting my best command voice while the echoes of the rifle shot were still reverberating, I yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”.

They were probably unaccustomed to adults speaking to them in that manner, so they stopped screaming and looked at me to see what the crazy man would do next. Ok, so I wasn’t exactly dressed for company and hadn’t bothered shaving or cutting my hair in some time. Why bother? It’s just me out here. Well, it was just me. Now it seems that it is me and a gaggle of teenaged girls.

“Shut the fuck up and do as I say or you will all die.” That worked well. Several of them started to wail again and more were joining in.

“Everybody stop, now! Shut up and begin sliding very slowly toward the rear door. The more of you who are at the door will help balance the bus to prevent it going over.”

More wails.

“Stop! Crying can kill you. Listening can save you. Make a choice. Remember the Girl Scout oath. You are old enough to use your heads. Only babies scream when they are scared.”

They quieted down a bit. There was still some sniffling and snuffling, but at least they seemed to be listening now.

“Slide very slowly and gently toward the rear door, but do not open it yet. Once you have all gotten as close to the door as you can, the bus will be much less likely to fall and it will give us time to take other measures.”

Watching them process this information was very heartening. They seemed to have realized that their survival did, indeed, hinge on their keeping their cool. I noticed a couple of girls sort of taking the lead in directing the movement toward the rear and made a note to remember which ones they were.

“Good! Keep doing that. I’m going to get my truck and some tools and will be right back. Which ones of you are the leaders?”

The two I had noticed earlier raised their hands.

“Ok. Please try to keep everyone still. We should be able to get everyone out safely if you all remain calm and nobody panics. Remember, panic kills. Dying sucks. I will be back soon.”

I jogged back to my camp and loaded up with ropes and other tools and supplies before driving back to the bus. Apparently, the fact that I had returned as promised seemed to be a calming factor for the girls. We were still a long way from being out of the metaphorical woods, but at least the panic factor was greatly reduced. Panic could not only kill them, but it might take me along with them and I’m not ready.

Thankfully, I had brought enough rope to execute my plan. My first thought had been to simply try towing the bus back onto the road with my truck, but I immediately had a vision of the bus hurtling toward the bottom of the gorge, pulling my truck behind it on the tow rope. I wanted to guard against that scenario.

The first rope went from the rear bumper of the bus to a tree across the road. This would be my anchor rope, to prevent the imagined scenario from happening. Then I would use a second rope from my rear bumper to another tree that would be used as a capstan, with a couple turns of the rope around the trunk. This rope would be used to anchor the truck and the slack could be taken up each time the truck managed to gain an inch.

The third rope went from my truck to the bus. Now I had two tie points on the bus that would hopefully be strong enough to prevent the bus from going over when the balance was shifted by removing girls.

“Ok, girls. Listen up. I want you to begin very slowly and easily coming to the door. The bus is being held with some ropes which should be good enough to hold things as long as we don’t do anything stupid, like jumping off the bus and making it rock. That could be very dangerous. I will open the door and help each of you out, one at a time. Do not move unless I tell you to move. Your safety depends on your remaining very still. Ok?”

I noticed a few wan smiles, but most of them simply nodded their heads. I carefully opened the door and selected the first one to come out.

“Come here, Darling. Move very slowly and smoothly and we will have all of you out very soon.”

A cute little 9th grader fearfully crept to me on her hands and knees. I gathered her in my arms and smoothly drew her from the bus, painfully aware of the situation, but at the same time very aware of the proximity of the teenage girl in my arms. At my age, I wasn’t too worried about scaring them with a rampant erection, but the feelings don’t go away.

I probably didn’t need to carry her as far as I did, but I was enjoying the smell of her hair and the feel of her bare legs on my arm. I carried her over to the capstan tree.

“Stay here, Darlin’. When we have a couple more off the bus, they can help you hold this safety rope. Ok?”

She was still sniffling a bit and it smelled like she may have peed herself a bit in the excitement.

“Don’t worry”, I told her. The worst part seems to be over.”

I went back for the next girl and carried her to where the first girl was waiting. Damn! These kids smell like heaven. I’m going to have to play this very carefully. No need to scare the game. Of all the eventualities I had prepared for, this one was not on the list.

One by one, I lifted them carefully from the bus and carried them to the capstan tree. As I lifted girl #6, the balance changed enough on the bus loading that it teetered a bit, once more generating panic.

“Stop!”, I shouted. They were much more attuned to my control now and settled down fairly quickly.

“That is just the balance shifting. We knew it would at some point, which is why the truck and the ropes are set up as they are. Stay very still and I will use the truck to pull the bus back far enough to get the rest of you out safely. Can I count on you to be still?”

Several of them nodded solemnly, even if a bit fearfully.

I took the 6th girl to the capstan tree and explained what I wanted them to do. One of the girls knew a bit about sailing and grasped the concept quickly. She explained to them.

“It’s just like the capstan on Dad’s boat. We can use it like a brake for the truck. Every time the truck backs up a bit, we pull the slack out, which will keep the truck from going back forward if the bus tried to fall off the cliff. Right, Sir?”

I gave her a big smile and asked her name.

“Sue, Sir.”

“Well, sweet Sue, you keep these girls in line and we will be out of here soon. Ok?”

“Yes Sir. Uh, do you really think I’m sweet?”

Never underestimate the insecurity of a teenage girl.

“Darlin’. You’re the sweetest Sue I have seen in a month of Sundays.”

She giggled and took her place on the rope.

“Ok, girls. Listen up. I’m going to use the truck to pull the bus to safety. The other girls will take up the slack and keep the bus from pulling us all down the hill, so you lean this way and be still. We should have you all out very soon.”

I fired up the truck and began slowly taking the slack out of the tow rope. The first six took up the slack behind me. This was going to work!

However, before the bus moved very much at all, the frame dug deeper into the berm, adding to the force required to move it and the truck wheels began spinning.

Shit! It had seemed like we were almost there. Now what?

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