The future... It's strange the way it never turns out quite how people expect it to. The year is 2077, but human civilization has been set back centuries. Not by cosmic disaster, or climate change, or nuclear war, as many had expected. But, rather, by a simple dwindling of a precious resource... oil. Despite all of man's great achievements, from cybernetics, to space travel, to cross-species genetic modification, human society was brought low when it simply ran out of gas.
When the severity of the world's fuel problem started to hit home for the common man, attempts were made to find solutions. Solar power, electric substitution, and all other forms of clean energy were seriously looked at for the first time in recorded history. Sadly, it was a classic case of too little too late. For after the other nations of the world descended on Saudi Arabia in the wake of their own supplies drying up, there was simply nothing left, and the world unraveled. There was no great war, no last hurrahs. With the oil gone, almost all transportation stopped. Cars sat abandoned on roadsides, most ships lay moored forever in their harbors, and without the massive infrastructure that the world depended on, most of the planets population simply starved to death.
But, it was not, as many had proclaimed, the end of the world. Those lucky few who happened to live in areas where the resources for life were abundant, and the population scarce, set about rebuilding. Life moved to the coasts, where all the major necessities could be found, food, water, and most of all, transportation. For, while horses and carts now roamed what remained of the roads inland, sailing had resurfaced as the fastest method of long distance travel. Indeed, the only things a person needed to become rich in a world without gasoline was a working boat, and something to sell. And one enterprising woman had settled upon a commodity that never stopped drawing customers.
Her name was Fifi Moreau. Like a full half of the population alive today, her parents had spliced themselves with animal D.N.A. in the hopes of having some kind of advantage in the coming new world, and passed their traits off to their daughter. In this case, the animal in question was a canine, a French poodle to be exact. Her body was shapely, with full breasts and generous hips and ass, covered in fine, short cropped, black fur, save for her hair, which grew long and straight, and her canine face gave her a keen nose for danger, and opportunity. She had decided to build a business based on the one universal rule of any society... Sex sells.
So, when she inherited her parent's prized possession, a small cruise ship repurposed to run on steam power, that they used to ferry people up and down the coasts of Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina, she quickly altered the amenities offered, good food and soft beds, to include warm bodies that were ready and willing to cater to guest's every physical desire. After rechristening her vessel, The Guilty Pleasure, she set about finding new workers to take up the role of 'entertainers' on her ship.
Now, the world had no shortage of desperate men and women willing to sell their bodies, but Fifi decided that her business would be far more profitable if she didn't have to pay the workers on her ship. To that end, she utilized mostly indentured servants, culled from people who had booked passage on her ship, only to arrive at their destination and find themselves unable to pay their dues, as well as stowaways , and good old fashioned slave labor.
Despite the less than reputable methods she uses to acquire new talent for her passenger's pleasure, Fifi's business philosophy holds true. Whenever The Guilty Pleasure pulls into port for a few days, be it at a town, city, or petty fiefdom, on it's way up and down the coast, there is never a shortage of people ready and willing to blow through their savings in a few days relieving 'tension' with the pretty boys and girls working on board.
But, today, a new chapter begins in the story of The Guilty Pleasure. One that begins with a woman caught in a net.
When the severity of the world's fuel problem started to hit home for the common man, attempts were made to find solutions. Solar power, electric substitution, and all other forms of clean energy were seriously looked at for the first time in recorded history. Sadly, it was a classic case of too little too late. For after the other nations of the world descended on Saudi Arabia in the wake of their own supplies drying up, there was simply nothing left, and the world unraveled. There was no great war, no last hurrahs. With the oil gone, almost all transportation stopped. Cars sat abandoned on roadsides, most ships lay moored forever in their harbors, and without the massive infrastructure that the world depended on, most of the planets population simply starved to death.
But, it was not, as many had proclaimed, the end of the world. Those lucky few who happened to live in areas where the resources for life were abundant, and the population scarce, set about rebuilding. Life moved to the coasts, where all the major necessities could be found, food, water, and most of all, transportation. For, while horses and carts now roamed what remained of the roads inland, sailing had resurfaced as the fastest method of long distance travel. Indeed, the only things a person needed to become rich in a world without gasoline was a working boat, and something to sell. And one enterprising woman had settled upon a commodity that never stopped drawing customers.
Her name was Fifi Moreau. Like a full half of the population alive today, her parents had spliced themselves with animal D.N.A. in the hopes of having some kind of advantage in the coming new world, and passed their traits off to their daughter. In this case, the animal in question was a canine, a French poodle to be exact. Her body was shapely, with full breasts and generous hips and ass, covered in fine, short cropped, black fur, save for her hair, which grew long and straight, and her canine face gave her a keen nose for danger, and opportunity. She had decided to build a business based on the one universal rule of any society... Sex sells.
So, when she inherited her parent's prized possession, a small cruise ship repurposed to run on steam power, that they used to ferry people up and down the coasts of Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina, she quickly altered the amenities offered, good food and soft beds, to include warm bodies that were ready and willing to cater to guest's every physical desire. After rechristening her vessel, The Guilty Pleasure, she set about finding new workers to take up the role of 'entertainers' on her ship.
Now, the world had no shortage of desperate men and women willing to sell their bodies, but Fifi decided that her business would be far more profitable if she didn't have to pay the workers on her ship. To that end, she utilized mostly indentured servants, culled from people who had booked passage on her ship, only to arrive at their destination and find themselves unable to pay their dues, as well as stowaways , and good old fashioned slave labor.
Despite the less than reputable methods she uses to acquire new talent for her passenger's pleasure, Fifi's business philosophy holds true. Whenever The Guilty Pleasure pulls into port for a few days, be it at a town, city, or petty fiefdom, on it's way up and down the coast, there is never a shortage of people ready and willing to blow through their savings in a few days relieving 'tension' with the pretty boys and girls working on board.
But, today, a new chapter begins in the story of The Guilty Pleasure. One that begins with a woman caught in a net.
