Cornered

Lucy turned the dark street corner, sandals splashing in the puddles of rain. Orange streetlamps carved out her path. By now, she was hopelessly lost - she hadn't the faintest idea where she was, right now, only that if she stopped running, if she took even a moment to try and catch her breath, she was dead.

Behind her ran a blonde-haired woman, arms outstretched in front of her. Under the dim, monochrome lighting, it was hard to make out any details about her. Her clothes, once a tasteful one-piece dress, was tattered and destroyed, torn open to expose her dripping genitals. Her left foot was bare, and from her right, a high-heeled shoe clung on by its strap, dragged along and not properly worn. In better lighting, her green-grey skin would have immediately given away her status as a zombie. Under these conditions, it was not so obvious, though her abnormal behaviour and state of dress may have offered some clues. Though, like all zombies, the most striking evidence as to her undeath was through her eyes - once a brilliant hazelly brown, now a dull and soulless white. Milky, foggy, hazy, and representative of her dead, parasited brain.

It had all started so suddenly. Lucy was at the bar - a dyke bar -, as usual, that night chatting up a hottie. Eve, a slim, silver-blonde woman with a lovely tight dress that showed off her curves, was a nursing student, who had just turned 20 last month. The pair of them were hitting it off nicely, and Lucy began to suspect they might have enough chemistry for a bit of a fling. She turned to the bartender, and was about to call for another round of drinks - on her, of course.

But there was a commotion. Something was going on, something she couldn't see, at the other end of the bar. There were too many people, onlookers, blocking her view. And then there was screaming, as a woman with grey skin and a monstrous look on her face began to rampage in the cramped space, pulling another of the clubgoers toward her and locking their lips in a lewd display as she gave her cursed gift to her still-human partner. Rapidly, the victim's skin began to discolour, and her struggle gave way to moans. She stopped trying to writhe out of the attacker's hold, instead pressing her thighs together as a rivulet of arousal dripped down the inside of her tights. Her right hand drifted down between her legs. Lucy didn't stick around to see what happened next, ditching the girl she was talking to and quickly running and locking herself in the bathroom, where, hands trembling with fear and confusion, she dialled "911".

...

She had tried three times by now. Still nothing - not even a dial tone. The lines were down, and the terror within Lucy's head had reached a feverish pitch. If the phone wasn't working, then there must either be something wrong with the phone service, or the lines were swamped. Judging by what she had just seen, that could very well mean that this thing wasn't isolated to the bar. There could be many more people like that all over the city. Maybe all over the country. Or even, as a chill ran through her spine - the world. But... maybe this was a prank, or a staged event, or-

All of a sudden the door to the women's bathroom loudly crashed open with an unceremonious clatter. Lucy listened intently, determined to keep silent - through the stall door, she could hear low, breathy moans, and arhythmic shuffling of bare feet. She chanced a peek through the gap in the door - it was another of the green-skinned women, but not the one she saw giving that public display of affection earlier. It was the one she was kissing - she could recognize the clothes she was wearing, and the look of her hair. But now her skin had become the same shade of olive as the first woman, and she was behaving just like her too. She had been infected.

A rush of giddy panic gripped Lucy. This really was the end of the world! Mundane concerns shot through her mind. What about her job? How was she going to make it in to her shift tomorrow? If she didn't have a job, she couldn't make rent! Who was going to take care of the cat? What was going to happen to the plane tickets she had booked for next month? Her vacation to Florida was ruined! This must be a dream, a horrible nightmare...

But then she gathered herself for a moment, and she pinched herself, and she drank in the lucid sensation of the air around her, and it struck her that she could very well be witnessing the end times, the final gasp of human civilization as she knew it, and that getting a refund on her flight was probably the very last thing she should be worrying about at that moment. As surreal as it all felt, it wasn't like any dream she could remember. She watched the transformed woman - the zombie, a voice in the back of her head that had just been reminded of some popular horror flick she'd seen, ages ago - aimlessly patrol the bathroom, presumably in search of a partner of her own. If Lucy wasn't careful, that could be her.

Intrusive thoughts popped into her head. What if she just surrendered now, went along with it? She'd be infected. And then she'd be changed. And she would go on to change more people to be just like her - but ultimately, she'd be on the winning side. The image of herself with a green-skinned face and glassy white eyes entered her brain. She shook it out of her mind; she couldn't betray humanity, betray herself, so quickly. She didn't want to die.

She hid and hid for what felt like hours, listening to the panic and screaming in the club fade and die as fewer and fewer unconverted remained. The music had stopped, by now, and all she could hear were their screams of terror and desperate begging as each and every one of the people just beyond the door succumbed to what must now have been a sizeable horde. At last, the screams ended, and there were only moans and groans from the dozens of newly minted zombies. The sounds reminded Lucy of the orgy she'd been to once, at that convention, though the participants in this one were both more numerous and more enthusiastic. And more undead.

Lucy could not hide on the shitter forever. Even if the zombies were too stupid to recognize her in here, she didn't want to starve in this tiny little stall, sustained in her last moments by toilet water. She tried to think her plan through, but nothing came - the panic and the dread were too much, and she could only operate via instinct alone, and her gut told her that anywhere but here was the best place to be. If she was lucky, the phone thing might have been a fluke, and she could find help and everything would be back to normal.

She checked that the coast was clear, and, finding that it was, she ran for the open window, and she climbed through, and she saw that there were a lot more people like those women from before out in the streets, and she realized she was surrounded, and she ran.

At some point between then and now, she had managed to shake off all but one of her pursuers. As luck would have it, that pursuer was the woman she'd been talking to at the bar, hoping for a one-night stand or even something more, before all this happened. Eve, or the zombified husk which used to be her, still seemed to be into Lucy. It's a shame that didn't matter much anymore.

All Lucy could think about now was escape. The drizzle of cold rain and her inappropriate-for-running footwear served her poorly in her task, but she would have to make do. Perhaps a nice set of sneakers would have allowed her to run quickly enough to get away from Eve. As it stood, though, the zombie was still firmly on Lucy's tail. Hoping to shake her off, Lucy one again turned, running into a random alleyway to try and lose her. She ran past the dumpsters and side doors, but she did not see the brick wall at the end of the alley before it was too late, and she was cornered.

Raindrops pattered around her. With nowhere left to run, Lucy's legs gave way from the strenuous activity and she collapsed against the end of the alley, feeling like she could not run even another inch. Her breathing was ragged and her body was hot, in spite of the rain, and her lungs burned and every breath she took tasted of blood. Even if she was not exhausted, there was no way to get past the zombie now slowly stalking its way down the alley. Eve did not look tired at all - of course she didn't. She was a zombie, and zombies never tire. Never ache. Never age. She looked on helplessly at the visage of her fate. Eve, even through the infection, lit by the harsh fluorescent white lamps of the alleyway, was still as beautiful as when Lucy had first laid eyes on her. At that point, she was hoping to lay with the 20-year-old student - now, she may still get her wish.

Eve was now almost upon her. Lucy willed her body to try and make one final gesture of resistance - but it was no use. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber, and refused to obey her command. Trepidation, fear, and terror filled her heart; alongside them, though, was a tiny smidgen of excitement. Curiosity for how the process might feel. The first woman she saw get infected looked like she had a wonderful time. Maybe it wouldn't even be so bad. Eating brains wasn't her idea of a good time... but eating pussy sure as hell was. If these zombies were more interested in cunts than crania, then perhaps she could make some amount of peace with her future. She could take some tiny amount of control of her fate.

In her head, she was formulating some one-liner, some wisecrack, something along the lines of "come get some" mixed with "this is what you were looking for, right?" but she couldn't find the right words and besides, Eve was a zombie anyway and her atrophied mind probably couldn't even appreciate it. Well, whatever. It kinda felt like she had said something clever, and that's all that mattered at the moment. Lucy slowly spread her thighs out, exposing her plain, black panties from out the bottom of her miniskirt. With her left hand, she felt the excited flaps of her labia through the outside of the fabric and traced them with her middle and index finger, forming a "V" and parting her pussy lips slightly. With her right, she made a similar gesture in front of her face, and stuck her tongue out, miming cunnilingus. She allowed the thrill of the moment to guide her, abandoning all inhibitions, which she would soon be stripped of anyway once she was a zombie, just like Eve. The thought sent a subtle frisson through her heart, knowing that she should want to fight, to resist this monster, that surrendering to her was wrong - but it felt so, so right.

For the zombie, permission was welcome, but never necessary.

Eve was within reach of Lucy. She fell to her knees, and then to the ground, and began crawling the last handful of inches to get to the treasure between her legs. She placed her hands on Lucy's thighs as if spreading them out, and then she was face to face with Lucy's panties. She could surely smell the heady aroma of Lucy's arousal at this range, even with the rain washing away what it could. She seemed to pause for a moment, looking up at Lucy's face and then back down at the garment keeping her slit from her, almost like she was trying to figure out what to do. But Lucy wouldn't let her suffer like that, wouldn't let her partner do this on her own. Kicking off her right sandal and bringing her leg up, Lucy slid her underwear down her leg and off her foot, leaving the panties hanging on to her left thigh, and more importantly, out of the way of her hole.

Eve wasted no further time, and dove in.

Pleasure shot through Lucy's core in waves. The zombie's tongue lashed against her cunt, each crude and brainless lick drawing out rivulets of her precious, still-human juices. Microscopic parasitic larvae entered Lucy's body via Eve's infectious saliva, invisibly infecting her flesh and corrupting it to serve their own twisted ends. The first twinges of green begin to appear around her snatch. The process has begun, and now it is irreversible - even if Lucy wanted to back out now, she could only temporarily pause her inevitable conversion. But why delay joining the winning side?

Lucy put her hands on Eve's head and she thrust out her hips, forcing the zombie's face into her snatch. The feeling, the pleasure, was intoxicating, knowing that she was effectively marching to her death. Her undeath. Her pleasurable eternal future, without any worries or woes to weigh her down, with nothing on her mind other than fucking. If being a zombie was about this sort of thing, she thought to herself as another series of licks came in, it really wouldn't be so bad. No - more than that. This was the winning side. Humanity was doomed from the start. Soon, all would join them, and it would be glorious. She could see it now - rivers of green-grey bodies, nude and stretching coast to coast, entwined in a never-ending lovemaking session till the end of time, free of the trouble that humans oh so loved to make. She felt a glint of honour in being among the first of billions of infected slaves.

The infection had spread further, now. Her calves were already discoloured, and her breasts had begun to change. The parasitic larvae, carried by her bloodstream, were reaching into every corner of her body, every corner of her being, with the sole intention of transforming her into their host. In return, she would become nigh-immortal, and rewarded with endless, endless pleasure. Lucy had her first orgasm as the parasites reached her nipples. Short and sweet, for a brief second all thought left her head and she was subsumed. And in that moment, she really believed that she was a full zombie, and she was blissfully happy at that notion, before she fell down to Earth and she realized it was only a small taste of what was to come. Her disappointment quickly turned to devotion - she had just experienced Heaven, and she wanted more.

Eve retreated, having teased out the orgasm she was looking for. Though not by much - she was still right there in front of Lucy's juicy, greying slit, cleaning up droplets of her girlcum between her folds as they twitched orgasmically. Still, Eve, though she did not know much, knew she wanted pleasure, too. And so, she shuffled around, and now, she was laying on top of Lucy, presenting to the soon-to-be-zombie her own, fully infected pussy. Lucy licked her lips. This was it - she had the impression that doing this would very, very rapidly accelerate her conversion. It didn't matter as long as it meant she could stop thinking sooner.

And Lucy tasted the zombie's infected juices, and they were good. And the zombie tasted Lucy's juices, and they were good. For Lucy, now, everything was a haze. She was in a state of being barely awake, and operated purely on what her body told her to do. In many ways, she was basically already a zombie. But she was not completely zombified - her brain was still intact. Eating out Eve, though, changed the equation; now, she had gotten a big dose of infection right in her mouth, and the parasitic microorganism had enough mass to get through her wavering immune defences and penetrated her blood-brain barrier, and got to work.

Memories. Skills. Lovers. Friends. All of these things are things that zombies have no need for, and so the parasites got to work consuming her brain. She was being moulded into the perfect, identical zombie. Lucy felt something odd as she bore internal witness to the liquification of her grey matter, but she had no objections. She knew that it would lead her to green-grey salvation. And then she didn't know that anymore. More and more of her world was snipped away at its borders, growing ever smaller and smaller as her personality faded into nothing, amounting to nothing more parasite food. Shrinking and shrinking until it consisted of nothing else other than the hole in front of her and the hole between her legs. All thought ceased, and yet her body continued to move, puppeteered by the malign influence in her skull. Finally, she came, as guttural groaning escaped her mouth into the grey cunt she continued trying to eat, and the zombie on top of her came as well, squirting juices into her mouth as the sapphic undead moaned in pleasure, heightened by their empty, vestigial brains, undulled by concern or worry, like a pair of animalistic beasts, as the thunder of white hot pleasure seared and scorched the last remaining parts of her brain away, writhing in their lewd tangle, enjoying every last moment of her conversion.

Lucy was no more; in her place, her body, animated by infernal desires, lies, changed irrevocably into the newest member of the grim sorority, now transformed to be just like her infector. She kissed Eve's soaked green gash one last time, thanking her for the gift she now possessed. Eve climbed off of Lucy's greened body, turning to face Lucy side by side like lovers sleeping in a bed. The zombie looked into Lucy's soulless, empty eyes, to find that they were just as dead and unthinking as her own. A zombie looked back. The two of them remained together, lovers beneath the pouring rain, enjoying the afterglow of their infectious tryst, unburdened by any thoughts whatsoever.

Eventually, the rain stopped, and the sun rose, and the pleasurable warmth of sex had completely faded, and the two braindead women had forgotten the events of last night, and they finally got up. Evidence of their past lives - their clothes - clung to their bodies, but in time this would be lost. With her brain reduced to a vestigial stem controlled by the parasitic infection, and her body fully infested by the microscopic organisms, Lucy had been completed. There was no reason for her to stay with Eve now; her mission was simple. To seek those who did not yet know the gift - and then to give it to them.

Lucy knew nothing more than this.