My Zombie Sex Slave

There were viral videos on social media first.

Videos of "drug reactions" or "freakouts", in rural, isolated areas in third-world countries.

It wasn't until it hit the cities that people realized what was going on.

A new disease was ravaging civilization. Anyone bitten by an infected lost all self control and was overcome with the urge to pursue and kill other humans.

It was too late for everyone,

Well. Except guys like me.

Civilization had never been for me.

I managed to earn money writing self help/improvement/reliance ebooks which gave me enough income to build myself a little place off the grid where I at first retreated to whenever city life was too awful, but the better I equipped the place with a generator, a small farm with chickens for eggs and meat, a couple of goats for milk, and crates for growing potatoes and a couple of water collection methods, I spent more and more time there to the point I had let my lease on my apartment expire and I moved completely into my little haven.

I would write my books, then take my truck into the city, collect supplies, use the motel wifi to publish my ebooks, hire a hooker and fuck her for a couple of hours, then drive back to my retreat for the next few weeks.

I had been watching the happenings in rural China, India and Africa, seeing these videos and obscure news articles about people suddenly going from zero to cannibalistic psychopath in a matter of seconds, and I suspected something was coming.

Something pretty big.

I bought more supplies than usual over the next couple of months as I didn't want to rely entirely on my little farm just yet if something were to happen.

I pulled my truck into my usual motel and took a walk around the corner to where the girls hung out.

There was a girl I hadn't seen before; black as the night, long legs leading up to thick thighs, a heavy, round ass barely covered by her skirt and fat tits spilling out of a cheap, knock-off bustier.

She wore an elbow-length platinum blonde weave and her lips were bright red.

My dick swelled to a full, raging erection making the decision.

"That one." it practically said in my ear.

I approached her and nodded in greeting. She turned and looked me up and down, and smiled in a way that only a hooker does when she doesn't dislike what she sees.

I'm a fitness fanatic, I eat very healthily and I have long, oak hair that works with my outdoorsy aesthetic. Women seem to find it not completely unpleasant.

Times past I used to frequent a bar and bring some bar slut back to my motel but it was never a sure thing, and I would usually spend way longer at the bar than I wanted to.

"How much?" I asked.

The prices were pretty standard around here.

"And if I wanna go raw?" I asked. Yeah, I know it's risky. Bite me. I like feeling pussy on my dick.

She looked me up and down again. I'm clean shaven and fresh out of my motel shower. It goes a long way.

She doubled her price. Again, standard.

She followed me to my motel room then sat on my bed as I shut the door.

I walked to my drawer and took her money out of my wallet.

She put it in her purse and turned to face me, her tits beckoning.

I pulled her top down, freeing them and took them into my hands, the heavy, ebony flesh swaying like an exquisite dessert in my hands.

I leaned down and sucked her nipples, and the girl leaned her head back and moaned. Fake or not, I didn't care, it sounded hot.

She unbuckled my jeans and fished out my dick, stroking it, the aching length throbbing in her palm. I gasped and let her stroke me, before instructing her to undress and get on all fours.

I watched her strip, the insane angles of her body shifting as her skirt came down her legs, her tube top over her head, then she unfastened her heels and let them fall off her feet.

She climbed back onto the bed and put her ass in the air for me.

I moved behind her and took hold of her hips and gazed down at her glistening pussy, her dark lips parting slightly to show the pink berth within.

Delirious with lust, I pushed the tip of my dick against her lips and sank inside, feeling her pussy envelop my whole length.

I blinked as she took me inside her, my dick twitching. I always paid to fuck twice, and I was especially grateful I'd done so this time, this pussy was gonna finish me in no time.

I eased out until only the tip remained inside her then sank back inside her. She began pushing back expertly, not as keen to savor as I.

Her thick, meaty ass cheeks jiggled as she slid back and forth on my dick, and I went with the motions, holding her hips and leaning to watch her full tits sway as she moved back and forth.

I felt my climax building and I jerked the final few thrusts into her then buried deep as my balls took over and I came, hard, gasping as I filled this hooker's pussy with cum. She stopped shifting and her mouth fell open in annoyance when she realized I was cumming inside her.

I let go of her hips and she slid off my dick, kneeling and looking down at her pussy as my cum leaked out of her thick, fleshy lips.

"Asshole, I agreed to let you fuck me raw. I didn't say nothing about you nutting in me." she admonished as my cum dripped out of her onto the motel bedsheet.

"I assumed if I was going raw I could cum in you." I said. "I'll give you another fifty." I offered.

She frowned and shrugged. "Fifty'll do it. You nutting in me next time as well?"

I nodded. "That fifty is for both times, before you ask."

She frowned and nodded.

I laid back.

"Come suck my dick for round two." I instructed.

She rolled her eyes and leaned over me, pulling her blonde weave out of the way and took my slack, glistening dick in her mouth.

She sucked, swirling her tongue around my semi-hard dick, sucking her own juices off me and sucking the residual cum out of me.

I gazed down at her, her huge tits visible and jiggling with the slight motion of her sucking.

My dick recovered quickly and I told her to lie on her back.

She did, spreading her legs and I climbed on top of her and slid my raw dick back inside her.

I tucked my hands beneath her toned back and hugged her tits against my chest, remarking that these were very probably the largest tits I had ever had. I considered paying her to stay overnight just so I could enjoy these tits longer but I'm not made of money. The extra fifty to placate her when I came inside her had pretty much drained my budget.

She didn't seem in as much a rush to finish me this time, and let me set the pace, electing for a leisurely roll, sliding my dick in and out of her, tip to base, feeling the hood roll back and forth over my thick, uncut dick, raw in this hooker's pussy. I sucked and kissed her tits as I fucked her, pulling on her nipples with my lips and she moaned, head back with her eyes closed.

I picked up the pace and she widened her legs, lifting them up, and with a final few deep thrusts I came again, groaning aloud as that sweet second orgasm rolled up and down my spine, my balls forcing another load up my dick and deep inside this hooker.

I rolled my hips until I was satisfied I was empty, then kissed her tits one last time as I rose and withdrew, a drop of cum falling from my spent dick as it slipped out of her.

She sat up and put her hand under her pussy.

"Mind if I use your shower?" she asked.

"Take your time." I said, rolling onto my back.

She stood, her hand under her pussy and walked awkwardly to my room's en suite.

Watching a hooker walking with her hand under her pussy as my cum leaked out of her was one of my favourite parts of fucking them raw. I watched mesmerized as a drop of my load slipped between her fingers and fell with a soft pat onto the motel carpet, and another dribbled down her inner thigh as she picked up her clothes and her purse and walked awkwardly to the bathroom.

Against her ebony skin, the pale trail contrasted amazingly.

She shut the door and I heard the shower come on.

After ten minutes, she came out, dressed. I had got the fifty out ready for her and left it on the dresser.

She took it and left, the door latch locking automatically behind her.

I settled back and fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

***

On the way back to my retreat, I stopped for gas just before I left the city, and as I was returning to my truck, I heard a snap of fingers and a voice call "Assistant!"

I turned to see a redhead leaning out of a brand new Mercedes.

I pointed at myself with a confused expression.

"Yes! You! Assistant! Premium. All the way to the top."

I laughed aloud. to which her face contorted with rage. She got out of the car and slammed the door. "I beg your pardon?" she snapped.

Still laughing, I said "Lady, the fuck are you on, I don't work here. Nobody works here save that poor asshole in the booth. Where the fuck do you go that pumps your gas for you?"

I looked her up and down, typical rich housewife on her way home from some overpriced farmer's market in her designer yoga pants hugging her pert yoga ass and polo neck folding around a pair of high, firm tits, with perfect red salon waves cascading to her shoulders.

"How dare you talk to me like that!" she snarled, to which I replied

"Where's your housemaid Juanita when you need her? Busy sucking your husband's dick right now, huh."

Her mouth fell open in shock as I turned and continued over to my truck.

Sat in traffic, cars around me, and a busy sidewalk either side, I began to notice people's behavior change. Faster. Some walking faster, some even running. Cars began honking and revving, with the flow faster and somewhat erratic.

I switched on the radio.

"...co-ordinated riots in several major cities. No one is taking credit as yet, as thousands of people are taking to the streets and assaulting anyone in their path. Please stay indoors until the emergency services have quelled the riots."

Riots my ass.

The lights turned and the traffic surged forward, and looking in my rearview mirror I saw an explosion in the distance. It was happening here too.

I swerved in and out between cars, my tougher, beaten old truck bumping against others as everyone went into panic mode.

I got away from the city and headed up into the hills toward my little retreat.

Inside, I sealed the door and windows and took out my rifle and shotgun.

I listened to the radio as the broadcasts at first clung desperately to the riot story, before declaring that the rioters were growing exponentially in number, with non-participants seemingly joining in after being assaulted by a rioter. They didn't want to say "bitten", but the lines weren't hard to read between.

Whatever had been spreading in the third world had now arrived here, and in the densely-packed cities it was flourishing.

Checking online using my phone's limited data it was the same all over the world.

The pieces were eventually put together by someone who explained that the videos of people instantly developing psychopathy that had been spread the past few months had been an early form of a virus that had mutated into the ultra-potent form it took now, wishing to propagate itself relentlessly.

Over the next few days the radio broadcast less and less.

On the sixth day, nothing was broadcast. I had exhausted my phone data and an attempt to buy more was rejected, and I know I had plenty of cash in that account.

The world fell silent.

At nightfall, I could usually see the orange glow of the city lights far away. The first couple of nights it had glowed exponentially brighter and hotter as the city had burned, and during the day, smoke rose all the way to the sky.

Eventually, the fires died and so did the glow at night.

No fires.

No city lights.

Civilization was over.

***

Things didn't really change for me the first few weeks.

I tended my farm. I read books by candlelight, saving my generator for emergencies. I worked out. I would normally write, but I didn't bother.

The radio was still silent, and I still wasn't able to get any mobile data on my phone.

The skies had been utterly empty for weeks; no planes taking tourists to tropical climes, no police helicopters pursuing scumbags, nothing.

I found myself wanting to know what had happened to humanity; to see it with my own eyes.

I elected against heading into the city just yet, as it was more than likely chaos still called the shots, so I loaded my truck and headed off for the suburbs. If it seemed safe enough, I would do a bit of looting too. I need stuff more than their dead owners.

Abandoned cars began to clutter the roads as I left the obscure paths from the woods. Wildlife was plenty active around here so there wasn't much to see as far as car occupants go, aside from the odd scrap of torn clothing or bone.

It wasn't until I began to near the suburbs that I saw real carnage, and carnage it was.

More cars, as you would expect, and half-eaten, rotting corpses everywhere, ravaged by the weeks of exposure.

I covered my face as the smell came into my truck.

I drove through the suburbs, watching for any sign of life; survivors, anything, but I saw no-one. I began to suspect I could well be the last man alive on earth.

I watched for motion, if there were any infected still active, but all I saw was death everywhere. I knew nothing about how it worked, and perhaps all the still-living infected had migrated elsewhere. Who knows. Until I worked up the suicidal nerve to head toward the city, I wouldn't know.

The prospect of looting seemed all the more inviting. I headed for the more upmarket area, where all the McMansions were, just to break into some houses and see what might be worth taking, and partly out of a sense of freedom in this bizarre new world I seemed to have to myself.

As I drove by the mini mansions, performing a sweep for activity that might interrupt my looting, I passed a house and saw a Mercedes I recognized.

I chuckled to myself. "No way."

The chick from the gas station, with the nice tits and firm yoga ass who expected me to pump her gas for her. I knew what these houses were worth, and it wasn't as much as she pretended to be worth.

That line about Juanita sucking her husband's dick seemed even funnier now; these houses didn't have live-in maids, they had cleaning agencies that visited once a week. I bet that stung her more than I expected.

I stopped outside the house and decided to try this one first. That tenuous connection I had to its bitch of an owner made it all the funnier.

I hung my shotgun over my shoulder and approached cautiously, peering in the windows.

Nothing. No movement.

I tried the door on the off-chance but it was locked.

Not to be dissuaded I put a window through with my shotgun butt and reached in to unlock the door.

There was a smell of death, but it was faint. Very faint. Like there had been a body here but it was gone.

Odd.

I opened the door and closed it behind me and called out.

"Hello! Anyone here? If there is just say and I'll be on my way. I'm not here for trouble, just looking for other survivors!"

Nothing.

"Okay! I assume this house is empty so I'm going to have a look around! I mean you no harm but I'm going to start taking things if you don't tell me not to!"

Still nothing. Fair game then.

I checked the cupboards and shoved a few tins and packets into my bags. That woman was definitely a farmer's market type, just mostly rotting veggies.

The house was coldly pristine, I could tell there was - or had been - a husband here, because there were men's shoes in the hallway, but any other sign of a masculine presence was utterly absent.

Just cold, white decor, lots of cursive slogans everywhere, ornaments, pointless fragile nick-nacks occupying surfaces that would have otherwise been useful, the usual. I was disappointed with how little there was to loot.

Feeling intrusive, I headed upstairs. If I'm honest with myself, I wanted to look in her underwear drawer.

God damn it it had been so long I was actually going to snoop at some bitch's underwear like a schoolkid at a sleepover when your buddy has a hot mom.

It suddenly occurred to me that I might never have sex again, and my previously upbeat and curious mood suddenly evaporated.

Hopefully a pair of panties and a confirmation of my estimate of the woman's bra size would help. 34DD was my guess.

I began to wonder if they were natural.

The master bedroom door was hanging open, so I went inside, again, a soulless, sterile show home that a miserable unimaginative couple occupied while they waited to move up the property ladder. What a depressing way to live.

I found her dresser and slid it open to find a drawer of bras and panties.

Jackpot.

I picked up a bra and checked the label; 32E. I fistpumped my victory, that being pretty much interchangeable with my estimate of 34DD

Damn I bet they looked amazing naked. My dick swelled up in my jeans and I cursed with frustration. To my shame I pocketed some of her underwear. Times were going to get hard.

I suddenly heard a noise behind me and turned, drawing my shotgun.

To my absolute shock, she was standing right there.

I froze and just gazed at her for a moment, she gazing back.

She was wearing the same clothes I had seen her in at the gas station, and her red hair was a knotty, messy bird's nest.

I opened my mouth to explain myself but I noticed two things; one, the shotgun pointing at her didn't bother her at all or even register as a tangible threat, and two, her eyes were now ringed red where they had been blue.

Fuck.

As if something dormant suddenly activated, she screeched and darted for me. I couldn't bring myself to shoot the only female I had seen in months, so I let my high school wrestling experience take over.

I shoved my shoulder into her and grappled her down to the floor, pinning her down as she furiously clawed and kicked, and I eventually managed to pin her down, but by the gods, whatever this infection was, it made her strong.

Her limbs restrained, she snarled and snapped at me and I made sure I kept myself out of biting range while I decided what to do next.

She was breathing, I could hear and feel her breath, and she was warm, so this wasn't some undead, shambling corpse thing, she was still alive and breathing, just possessed by some virus that had turned her into this.

I flipped her and put her in a rear choke, choking her out in a matter of seconds.

I took some stockings and leather belts from her drawers and bound her wrists behind her back and her knees and ankles together.

I searched the rest of her drawers and found her sex toy drawer at the bottom, and to my surprise, a rubber ball gag. Never used, so she must have got it free with one of her vibrators, but I was still surprised it hadn't been thrown away.

I strapped it around her head and not a moment too soon as she began to stir, wriggling and snarling against her binds.

Satisfied they could hold her, I hurriedly explored the rest of the house, trying to piece together how she hadn't starved to death, assuming her biological functions were still the same.

I found a smear of dry blood on the inner door handle and the keys in the door, and stains that led across the hallway and down some stairs to what I discovered was her husband's "man cave" where I found a TV, a games console, and sports paraphernalia. There were bones.

Human ones.

She had been bitten, stayed coherent long enough to get inside and lock the door behind her, then seemingly been overtaken by the virus and had presumably killed and eaten her husband.

I knew for definite then that what I had tied up upstairs was no longer a human being. Whoever that woman had been was gone, only a cannibalistic monster remained.