Pink Zone Warning

"Love bomb, love bomber.

It's a-comin' on strong.

Cant' take it anymore.

Come a-rockin' through your door."

-AC/DC, "Love Bomb"

Larry raced through the practically deserted streets of his neighborhood. The boss had sent everyone home when news about the attack reached them, and he was pulling out of the parking garage when Jill's first text came.

"CUM HOM PLZ 911″

Curiously, or perhaps not, getting home had been easier than expected. Unlike most terror attacks, the bulk of the traffic was coming TO the city rather than driving away, Fearing the worst, he violated one of his own rules and responded to her text while driving.

"OMW Use your key, lock self in. Close blinds lock windows. Don't answer door whatever anyone says, even if say me or Brent sent them! Have my key, anyone claiming need help LYING! Barricade self in bedroom if they try break in. STAY SAFE!"

When San Francisco, Paris, and Athens had been hit, nobody was surprised. Stupid TV comedians even made jokes about "How can you tell?" Now their 4th target had been Portland. He couldn't believe they'd strike here, in his city. But then, that was the point of a terrorist attack, wasn't it? To show they could strike anywhere?

As he turned off of I-5 and into his neighborhood, she sent another text.

"OMG LRY NED U NOW HRY"

He'd tried calling from the freeway, but when someone did answer on Jill's end, all he could hear was moaning, panting, and wet, squishy noises.

Away from the freeway noise, he thought he could hear moaning again in the distance, but told himself that was probably in his head. Still, if Jill had been in the zone and made it all the way back to his place...

Traffic was almost gone as he stopped for a red light. A nightmare flashed in his head of a gang of naked women of all ages setting upon his car, pressing their bodies up against the glass, frantically tearing at the locked door handles and pounding on the windows; screaming with mindless need for his cock.

He only knew what the media had told him about the attacks. Goodallazine was an artificial pheromone that had been developed to encourage endangered species to breed in captivity. (The first successful trials had been on chimpanzees, hence the name.) A militant "Men's Rights" group had stolen the formula and claimed to have weaponized Goodallizine and made it airborne.

Their hooded leader had released a video claiming that any woman past puberty who breathed it would become consumed with lust for the first man she could get her hands on, and that once his sperm was in her body, she would be bonded to that man and become his willing sex slave for life. Later interviews with victims showed the women happy and content in their new lives as their owner's insatiable sluts, (They often referred to them as boyfriends or husbands, but "master" was becoming disturbingly popular, and terms like "fuckdoll" and "dicksleeve" were also gaining popular usage.) Many had been able to return to their original lives and jobs, with the exception of being unable to keep their clothes on or their hands from roaming in their new mate-for-life's presence, and the near-constant pining for his body in his absence.

Larry remembered seeing the terrorist leader's video. Various women shamelessly took him from behind or sucked him off on camera as he prattled about San Francisco being chosen as the first target to make some kind of statement about lesbians and other women across the sexual spectrum not being safe from its effects. A famous lesbian musician was the last woman in the video to strip and smile for the camera as he plowed into her and concluded his manifesto with talk about "the days of sex being a female-monopolized commodity" being at an end. It disgusted Larry then, and it did now as it replayed in his mind.

He stepped on the gas and ran the light, and the next four lights, as images of Jill helplessly bouncing up and down on the finial of his staircase's banister, or on her hands and knees on his kitchen floor, trying to shove a carrot or cucumber deep up into herself played in his head and terrified him, especially because of the slight stirring in his loins that they also caused him. He'd been speeding all the way home, and he'd been able to make it in record time due to the traffic. He'd seen that on the news after the other attacks as well. Fewer people fleeing the cities and men flocking toward the cities looking for fuckslaves. Reports after the other attacks also spoke of underground slave auctions and secret brothels where the only rule was "wear a condom and you can do anything you want to 'em" as women jumped from man to man, howling in frustration and denial of the seed that was all they craved.

Thank God his closest friend had been able to get out of the city in time as well. Jill biked to work, and her workplace was on the outer edge of the "Pink Zone Radius." (Some newscaster had used that term instead of "hot zone" after the Paris attack and it had stuck.) He could only imagine her making her way through back alleys and side streets to his house, avoiding any man who might approach her with malicious or even misguided noble intent; touching herself or riding down bumpy trails for some semblance of relief from the need that her own body screamed for her to fulfill and her own mind's seconding of the motion.

He thanked God again that he'd given her a key years ago. Jill lived with Brent, her boyfriend, about ten miles further away from the city than Larry's house, so it made sense that she would seek shelter there. He'd never particularly cared for Brent and the way he treated Jill, but kept it to himself as best he could. They'd been together for two years now and whenever she tried to put a positive spin on the ways Brent kept her under his thumb, Larry tried to put on a smile and pretend to be happy for her. When he'd spot Brent around town without her and see him coming on to other women, it took all Larry had to keep from punching something. He'd often wanted to tell her that she could do better, but never did, because he knew that no man had ever said that to a woman without a silent "like me, pick me, dammit" at the end of it.

Larry pulled into his driveway, leapt out of the car, and was halfway to the door when he remembered that he'd left it running with his keys in the ignition. Luckily, he hadn't shut the car door, so was able to retrieve them easily and let himself in. His mind filled with the "what if" scenario of pounding on the door and shouting that it really was him and that he'd locked his keys in the car as Jill heeded his earlier advice and was holed up in his bedroom; all the furniture pushed up against the door and cowering in the corner with her fingers deep inside herself, trying to stifle her moans.

"Jill? Jill!" He called, locking the door behind him. Her bike was lying on its side in the middle of his entryway, and he picked it up and leaned it against the wall. Her backpack was behind it in the hall, and behind that was a discarded skirt that he recognized as one of Jill's favorites. A trail of her discarded clothing led into his living room, and he could hear her gasping and moaning from that room. He followed them and came to a dead stop as he entered the room, his cock stiffening as the scent of her arousal filled his nose before he'd rounded the corner, and then standing rock hard of its own accord at the sight of her.

Jill was laying naked on his couch, her legs splayed open in invitation; her knees bent and her toes touching so that his eyes were drawn to the wet, sticky, hungry cleft between her legs and the growing wet spot beneath it. His eyes drifted up her body to the tits that she'd flashed him once while drunk years ago, and were now on full display for them, her hands making gentle circles around her large pink areolae and the cute little button nipples atop them, standing as proudly as his own erection. The visual tour of Jill's naked body ended at her warm smile and the loving look in her green eyes. Long brown hair framed her face in a pile spilled out onto the pillow beneath her head.

"Hi, Larry," Jill said to him, her voice breathy with need. "Please fuck me. Please make me yours."

Larry stood there in silence longer than he should have. His hand unconsciously brushed his hard-on through his pants as he stared at her. When he saw Jill's smile widen and her eyes grow bigger as she squeezed her hips together to open her legs a little more and raise her lusty offering a tiny bit closer to him, Larry realized what he was doing and regained control of his hand.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not like this, Jill. I'll go get you a robe, we'll get you to Brent. He's the one you want."

"NO!" Jill shouted before repeating it more softly. "No, Larry. Please! I called him on my way here. He..." Her left hand continued circling her breast as her right began trailing down toward the wetness still dripping onto his couch cushion. "He told me he was... in the Pink Zone. With the guys. He said he was..." Her fingers found the wetness between her legs and began circling it in time with the hand circling her nipple. "Getting some new friends... umm... to bring home to me. I... oh... I've never been into that. But I know that once he... uhhhh... fucks me, I will." She slipped a finger into herself before continuing. "I know I'll...mmmm... be into... whatever he tells me to be into. Do whatever he... ahhh... says to get more of his cock. His hard, throbbing..." She stared at Larry's cock, now fighting for release from his pants as another finger slid into her.

"Why I... nnn... fought to get here. I know you've... ummm... always wanted me, Larry," Jill said as her fingers slowly began pumping in and out. His own hand returned to brushing through the fabric of his pants as he found himself taking a step closer and couldn't decide if it was his cock or his heart driving him forward. "I... know... you... love me. That you'll... OH!... always be... good... to me. I... I... love you... too, Larry. If I... UNGH! OH!... have to be... a man's... wet... helpless... needy... slutty... cockslave... GOD YES!... want it... to be... you!"

Larry pulled off his shirt and undid his belt buckle. His pants dropped to the floor as he sat down next to her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer as he slid his underwear off. A tear began to well in his eyes as he shifted his body until he was on top of her, their breath mingling as he looked into her eyes.

"Ok, Jill. I'll take care of you. I DO love you Jill, I have long before now. Please always remember that." He kissed her softly.

She returned the kiss with a hungry tongue as her hand grabbed hold of him and guided him into her.