At World's End

At World's End

If this were a TV show where my father, my mother and I were the last people on earth after some kind of mysterious apocalypse another survivor would appear to spice up the plot at the end of the first episode. But it's been nine months since everyone disappeared in what we called 'the event' and my family were still alone. We had a familiar discussion at the dinner table as the sinking sun turned the windows to gold.

"Here's what we know." Dad said, pacing the kitchen while mom and I sat sipping nearly the last of the instant coffee. His beard and hair were as trim as mom could make them with sewing scissors. "Jack and I've been down to Brownsville and there's no change. Still only signs of animals getting into the buildings. We've carried away anything useful from Parker's and the gas in those tanks is getting stale." Dad's overalls, gleaned from the country store, were showing some hard wear. We'd been spending a lot of time cutting and splitting wood that Spring. If anything good came of being survivors it was that we both were as fit as two human males could be.

"Honey, the garden's coming along well so far. Thanks to Jack's hard work." Mom squeezed my bicep and smiled at me. "I think we'll be OK for the summer, anyway."

"The thing is," dad crossed his arms and scowled, "there's a lot of resources that we'll deplete and can't replace. We made it through one winter with stocks here at the Station, but those are exhausted. Should we all leave or should the boy and I go on a scavenging expedition while the truck's still running and the weather's warm? Roads are gonna degrade quickly now, too."

We'd had this discussion many times before. Both biologists, my parents had thought through all the parameters, scenarios and consequences logically. But they didn't agree on the least risky course. Or they just liked to debate. I thought about their natural competitiveness as I stared at the trumpet hung by the door. We used it to signal each other when out of voice range. When dad and I went scavenging we used it to announce our return from a distance. It seemed to me that my parents wanted a degree of certainty that wasn't available in this new world. Still, we did things like blow a trumpet to announce things we did know. All this debating over unknowables seemed like a waste of time to me.

"We're capable of surviving here and safer, as well," explained my mother, leaning back. The hard work had been good for her body, too. In khaki shorts and t-shirt, tanned and firm, hair bleached straw-yellow, she gave the aching memories of my girlfriend serious competition. I thought often that probably the only boobs on the planet were the ones I'd nursed from. When we worked together in the garden I couldn't fail to notice their fullness or the sweat beading in her freckled cleavage. It felt pervy, but the desire was definitely there. Of course I thought about having sex with her. I could think logically, too. If we really were the last people on earth who'd care about it but us? Did either of them realize I'd gone without sex for nearly a year? Was it the elephant in the room? It was the elephant in my pants. But if mom kept squeezing my arm...

"And," she said, "the Station's solar should be sound for years, we've got all of the Appalachians to hunt and gather in and good rain water in the cistern. I don't think we should divide up." She stood, took my dad's hands in hers, looked up into his face and smiled, "We're safest together, Ron."

"Yeah, Mel, but I'll regret it if there's medication or tools that I could be gathering from farther out that might be the one thing we need in a crisis. We have to re-invent subsistence living as it is. " He looked seriously down at her, glanced at me. "Have you considered that one day we're going to run out of something as basic as clothing?"

We're intelligent animals. But we're essentially animals. Being biologists I'm pretty sure they'd thought about our small DNA pool possibly being the last of humanity. One healthy mating pair and one male offspring. The math wasn't good. The joke of course was that in-breeding was common in these parts of the Appalachians. Poor Eastern Kentucky, the butt of those jokes, was now our universe.

It had been ten months since I'd come to spend the summer with my folks at the U of K Ecological Research Station high in the mountains near the Virginia border before starting college. They were studying the migration of species both in elevation and latitude as a result of climate change, living in what a century ago was a tuberculosis sanatorium. The buildings were large and well equipped, but old. Now solar powered, with a small battery bank, they made a passable survivalist compound. We occupied the administrator's house; my parents turned the parlor into their bedroom, and I had a room upstairs. The other buildings were slowly but surely returning to the earth. We'd made one a chicken coop.

I'd spent much of my childhood in boarding schools while my parents traveled to remote places around the world doing their highly awarded research. They were my heroes. Adventurer-scientists they were, like Indiana Jones with a buxom and brainy blond wife. We weren't an emotionally close family, but we were all smart and practical. The last nine months had seen our resilience tested and our skills stretched. I'd muscled up and developed a stamina and a beard to match my dad's. And I was horny as hell. Almost a year since I'd seen my now disappeared girlfriend, Ginny, and having grieved her amidst the confusion of our situation, now I could simply feel my body's longing for connection and release. I still cried at odd moments, but not as often. My animal body just wanted to do what's natural.

It's easy to be alone when there are only three people on a planet. Sometimes I just slunk into the forest to rub one out. Prudently, I masturbated twice daily - once in the morning, once at night to maintain a low frustration level because when I get real horny I act irrationally. It's a behavior studied in chimps and bonobos, and often described among humans in fiction. At my most discouraged I could laugh at the irony of my becoming an incel just when I'd become my most virile. My horniness made my interest in studying human mating behavior 'natural'. Thinking of the only possible mating combinations amongst the three of us made me hard.

"Let's table this discussion for now," offered mom, "but I agree we should make a choice in the next month or two." She looked at me with a wry smile. "We don't want to be running around here naked, do we?"

There was a glint in her eye that I remembered clearly shining in Ginny's. Wow, Mom was horny, too. But she hadn't looked at me that way before. Suddenly it was boner level nine in my pants and approaching detonation. Time for my nightly wank. Mom took dad's hand and led him toward the private end of the house. "Goodnight, Jack," she tossed off a wave and dad happily followed her. "G'night, son," he added over his shoulder. Clearly they were bound for glory in the bedroom. I itched to get outside and relieve my own body's urgent energy.

With images of mom creeping in to replace my memories of Ginny, I stepped out the door and started down the path toward the dark woods. Yeah, I'd imagined banging mom before, but guiltily. The incest taboo was a strong one. What if she thought I was a pervert for wanting her? But with that look in her eye, all of a sudden envisioning her body quaking to my thrusts seemed like the natural thing. Like I had her permission to fantasize about her. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I picked my way across the unmowed lawn, pulling my cock out, imagining mom beconning me to the bed where she'd be waiting, wet for me.

But then I noticed the light leaking from under the blinds of my parent's bedroom window. Why imagine? Why not watch her and dad doing it? I'd been hearing their headboard bang against the wall all these months. I crept to the sill and peeked in, careful not to mangle mom's strawberry patch.

Magnificent specimens. That's the only fair description of my parents. I watched two bronzed, lean and healthy humans in the dim orange light. Already naked, they embraced, dad's broad, muscled back to me, towering over mom, kissing with a slow passion. I stroked, they kissed. My mother broke away and I saw her full frontal for the first time. In the light she glowed, a goddess of pink and gold with a shape that nature designed males to crave. Her breasts swelled and swung, tipped with large, dark, bumpy patches and fat nipples of carmine. The line of her womanly body pinched to her waist and flared at her hips where, at her delta, a trim, brassy cloud hid her sex.

My body's urgency prevailed over any thought of prolonging the pleasure of watching two beautiful people fucking. I was close in a matter of strokes seeing them that near and in the flesh. It made porn vids seem insipid. My memory provided the sensation of Ginny's body against mine, the taste of her juices, the smell of her arousal. These memories were getting dimmer, I realized, jolted by the intensity of seeing mom and dad right in front of me.

Glancing around the room I saw what had happened to all the mirrors from the other buildings. Dad had them mounted around their bedroom. I suppose they made the most of the rationed light. It made a room full of naked people all getting frisky. Maybe they felt less lonely this way. My parents murmured low to each other. I thought I heard my name once or twice. My name?

She pulled dad to the bed and they sank down on it, her under him and reaching for his cock. I noted the family resemblance in our organs - thick, red, long, curved upward and with a pronounced knob, his dripped as mine did. I watched her spread her legs and smile up at him and I imagined my cock there, clasped in her warm hand and guided to that hot, slippery place. When she gasped at his penetration I came. I curled over my spurting erection and groaned into my elbow, stifling myself and splattering the strawberries with spunk. Without peeking again I slunk back to my room, tiptoeing up the old creaky stairs, still hungry.

************

The day the event happened we three had been up on Bald Ridge collecting data from the remote sensors. A warm August day, it had been breezy and fresh above the treeline. After the long hike back down to the Station we'd found the place empty of people. We'd expected to see the six research assistants and staff gathering for dinner, but were met with silence and no clues as to what had happened. Everyone had simply vanished, but meatloaf bubbled in the oven.

My parents immediately leapt into a systematic exploration of the environment. Clearly there was no one on the property. Radio, phone, internet and shortwave channels had no live traffic in the time before each went down completely. Over the next weeks our explorations of the nearby hamlets yielded no clues, but some useful resources that we hoarded for winter. We scavenged some chickens. Never again did contrails lace the high, blue sky. The world became quieter for a bit, then the wildlife filled that void. At the first snow, we hunkered down and waited, confused and concerned but still unreasonably hopeful.

We inventoried all that we had at the Station. In the assistants' dorm I found one researcher's laptop without a password, but a cache of porn. I cherished that as much as the boots that fit my big, wide feet. This guy had an eclectic taste and I spent a lot of late nights scrolling his hundreds of niche vids. Doggy style, handjob, asian, oral creampie, CFNM, big naturals, MfM, daughter-swap, bondage, mom and son, they were all represented. You won't be surprised when I say the mother-son incest ones really got my attention, moreso as the months dragged on. The briefly sketched scenarios were absurd, of course, but I found a legendary actress, Brandi Love, who resembled mom, I was amused to notice, and watched that often on those nights when the future seemed bleak and loneliness my fate.

On the morning after watching my real mom and dad screwing I had the laptop open and my hand on my cock before the first ray of dawn seeped over the mountains. Even if the vids paled in comparison to watching my parents, they were better than nothing. I figured I'd better defuse myself before seeing mom at breakfast. Ginny'd learned to surprise me once in a while by impulsively unzipping me, kneeling, pulling out my cock and giving me a quick, happy blowjob. God, I missed those. That's how this vid started after the sandy-haired actress with the heavy boobs finds her son peeping her in the shower. I pulled on my cock, watching the wet, naked Brandi kneel and unzip her kid's pants, reach in, smile, open her mouth in awe and hunger, then take him up to the balls.

Her son leaned back against the wall of the bathroom in surrender to her skills. His eyes closed and his hands clenched in her blond hair as her head bobbed and drool dripped from his balls. It wasn't hard to imagine my mother in her place. If I squinted, the blond hair and blue eyes were enough. The smile on Brandi's cupid's bow lips really helped. I spit on my hand and thought of her saliva slicking my cock, heard the squelch of her wet mouth stretched around my red, vein-ribbed pole. I remembered mom's gasp as dad impaled her the night before, her adoring eyes on his, and rose quickly toward release, panting, eyes tight closed now, deep into the fantasy of my mother rabidly sucking me, tensing as my orgasm sparked in my balls. When the spunk flew from my purple knob I groaned, "Mommm..."

"Yes, Jack?" I heard her say as my body jerked and I spurted again, sticky foam in my fingers and the laptop sliding to the floor. There mom was in the doorway, in faded sweats, hand on the jamb, eyes wide. "OH!, ahh, sorry," she said, but she grinned and only slowly turned away, eyes locked on my pulsing organ. Then she hurried down the hall. "I'll give you a minute," she called, amused. I heard the creaking of the stairs before I was finished convulsing and splattering the sheets. Well, shit. Awkward...Still, there was that grin...and her eyes lingering.

I took my time getting to breakfast. When I arrived they both were at the table downing some eggs and pancakes from one of our precious last boxes of mix.

"This is why the boy and I ought to go further and find a regular grocery store or a warehouse where there should be some more staples like this," dad explained, "if vermin haven't beaten us to it." I served myself and sat down, stealing glances at mom.

"It'd be worth it if you were to find a milk cow out there to go with our chickens. These aren't so great made with water," mom laughed, poking her pancakes. She smiled at me, again with that glint. I know I flushed red. I spent an awkward ten minutes eating and listening to them debate some more before dad stood, kissed her and said, "Jack, I'll see you at the woodpile when you're done, OK?"

I acknowledged that and wolfed down my last bites as he clomped out the door. Mom stood and intercepted me on the way to dropping my plate in the sink. "Hold it, Jackson," she said, grasping my arm. "Just let me say this..."

I bit my lip and looked at the floor. Even though I was a head taller than her she could immobilize me with a hand on my arm. I was sure she'd know I'd been fantasizing about banging her all these months. Part of me wanted her to do just like Brandi and jump me right there in the kitchen. The pre-apocalypse Jack wanted to evaporate into the air, like all the other disappeared people.

"What are you gonna do when that laptop dies?" she said teasingly, looking me hard in the eyes.

I stuttered, "D-d-don't know..."

"I've waited too long to talk to you about this," she said, frowning, "or rather, your father has." Mom pushed me to sit again at the kitchen table, crossed her arms under those milky mammaries in her threadbare sweatshirt. I noticed that she smelled pretty funky. I must have stunk myself. Like usual, I was saving my shower for later in the afternoon when the solar hot water tank would be warmest. Smelling her reminded me again of what I'd watched the night before. Was dad's spunk still leaking out of her in those sweats? I felt the swelling in my overalls and tried to focus.

"It's my opinion," mom stated, "that my having intercourse with you is inevitable."

My heart fought to escape my ribcage. I was short of breath. My fingers got grabby. I clasped my hands in my lap to keep them under control. Even then it seemed like I should cover my rising boner.

"But," she sighed, "your father's a bit slower to acknowledge the obvious. I'm working on him, but I think he's got some typical male insecurities."

I just sat there, dumb.

"After all, it's not like Oedipus has to kill his father to have sex with his mother," she sounded exasperated.

"What? I wouldn't hurt dad," I blurted.

"I'm sure, dear, and I supposed you must have thought about sex with me, too," she smiled, "and this morning confirmed that."

"You're beautiful and I love you, mom," I said, sounding surprisingly pleading.

"I've got twenty years more mileage on me than Ginny," she sighed, "but that's nice of you to say."

"Last night you looked like a goddess."

"Last night...?"

"Uhh, well, I, uhh, kinda saw you and dad in the bedroom." I was sweating now.

"Oh, good!" she smiled again, "that's why I've been leaving the blinds cracked."

I sat there dumb again. And she paced the kitchen, hands on her broad hips, thinking.

"Of course we can't have intercourse without your father's approval." That made some kind of sense. Didn't want a mad dad at the end of the world. Especially at the end of the world. "I'll keep working on him. Wear him down with the logic of it. Find some kind of incentive..." I could see her mind working. I could see her hips working under the cotton and her breasts swaying loose as she paced.

"I'd better go help with the wood." I said and stood.

"And if I'm convincing enough with your father, I'll be helping you with your wood one day soon." She leaned up to me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, pressing her body against the boner in my pants. "Go on!"

I stumbled over myself getting out the door into the bright sunlight. It looked like a brave new world.

Later, as I took my daily gravity-fed shower in the bath in the main house where the solar tank was rigged up, I thought of the Brandi Love vid again. Of how the statuesque and skilled milf blew her son up against the wall then begged him to give it to her doggy style and screamed her pleasure. How she appreciated his youthful power and prowess. And his ability to get it up again in fifteen minutes. Was I going to get a chance to impress my mother like that? I pulled my soapy cock in both hands, rising in arousal with long slow strokes, picturing mom's peach of an ass jiggling to my thrusts, her full breasts swinging, much more alive than Brandi's 'enhanced' pair. Sorry, Ms Love, I imagined saying to her, but naturals are simply better.

"Your dad's checking the rabbit snares," I heard her say. I opened my eyes, peeked around the curtain and mom was there in the bathroom, leaning against the closed door. "I'd like to see your penis again."

"Well, uh..."

"I won't look at it if you don't want me to." She pulled back the curtain anyway and her eyebrows raised. "Also, I need to collect a sperm sample."

"What?"

"To see if they're viable, son."

"Viable?"

"We need to know if I'm likely to get pregnant." She held out a jelly jar. "Aim into this and I'll check it in the lab." Mom watched me wanking while she said all this, biting her lip. "Just make sure there's no soap mixed in."