tagSci-Fi & FantasyRise of the Sexbies

Rise of the Sexbies

byHenry_C_Roberts©

Part 1

Henry C. Roberts

Copyright © 2017-2018 by Henry C. Roberts. All Rights Reserved.

Disclaimer:

This story is for Adults Only. If you are underage, exit now. Make sure to store this book where minors cannot access it. This book contains graphic language and scenes of sexual acts. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18 years old. All sexual acts are consenting. This story may portray scenes of intercourse, voyeur, outercourse, and Fellatio.

Thank you for reading and leaving a review.




Chapter 1

Captain Lloyd Stronghold of the United States Army Recovery Corps (ARC) sat on the bed of a Ford F-250. With a rare Coke in one hand and his copy of Suicide Squad #6 in the other hand, life couldn't get any better. Well, for someone stranded in a Hot Zone with no Z3 pills, life couldn't get any better. Stronghold finished the sole can of Coke he had found under a destroyed vending machine in the ruined BP gas station. He would have rather have found gasoline, but the Coke came a close second.

Once he chased down his army issue Energy Bar with the soda, he planned to start searching for gas. His hope of returning to Camp ATL before sunset was vanishing by the second. When his pickup had run out of gas, the ETA for making Camp ATL had grown exponentially. Stronghold jumped off the truck.

Earlier, while driving to ATL, as he had approached I-95 in southern Georgia with the Ford running on fumes Stronghold had noticed a plantation on Route 4525. At the time, his destination had been the BP station, and since the station was an Army refill station, he had felt it was his best hope for gasoline. Now, those hopes had evaporated.

The plantation was three miles west of his current position. With hopes of finding gas in the farm equipment or storage areas, Stronghold set out for the farm. Comic stored in his backpack and the pack on his back, he lifted his Stryker crossbow and wrapped the strap around his neck. With the crossbow and pack in place, the last items to check were the Springfield Armory 1911s holstered on each hip.

Stronghold reviewed his final checklist in his mind before departing. In his head, he gave the 'all clear'. With no movement in sight all day, he felt comfortable enough to start his search for gas on foot. One step at a time, Stronghold started down the road towards the plantation. The road was in fair shape, a hundred years of the apocalypse not long enough to completely erode the road.

The heavy pack made the journey slow-going, but after a couple of hours, Stronghold saw the plantation come into view. He stepped off the road and started down the dirt driveway. As he approached, he saw the farmhouse directly in front of him. Approaching from the rear left-side of the house, his eyes caught movement. Before deciding on the crossbow or the guns, he studied the scene. He approached closer, noticing bed sheets on a clothesline. A soft, sweet humming was coming from the direction of the sheets. In his mind, he pictured a gentle housewife hanging out the laundry for the day. The thought turned out to be far from the truth.

From the forest behind the barn, an animal suddenly stumbled into view. The creature swayed back and forth as it walked in the open field by the barn, heading towards the humming from behind the sheets. The white foam around its muzzle was a bad sign.

It was a deer, and the deer was rabid. Starvation and lack of a pure water source had led to a widespread infection of animals bitten and infected by the disease. Even though the deer stumbled and moved with difficulty, the animal crossed the field and heading towards the voice by the clothes line.

Stronghold drew his crossbow. His hands moved with trained perfection as he pulled the bow into position. Smoothly, he drew an arrow from the quiver attached to the crossbow and loaded it into the groove of the barrel. The act of arming the weapon took less than a second. Within two seconds from deciding to drop the deer, Stronghold had it in his sights. He pulled the trigger back a few millimeters, holding his breath. The arrow flew straight and true nailing the deer directly in the temple on the left side of its head. The animal fell with a thump, and it was no longer a living being.

"Attention!! This is Captain Lloyd Stronghold of the Army Recovery Core. I have just shot an infected deer, and I'm approaching. Please keep calm and any weapons lowered."

Stronghold moved closer to the laundry area. He saw a hand move the sheet to the side and the person responsible for the soft humming came into view. "Fuck," he exclaimed.

"Well, fuck you too, mister," were the first words the owner of the soft sweet voice said, a gentle southern drawl to her voice.

"What the heck! You look like an overdeveloped sex goddess from a comic book."

"Rude! Well, thank you, I guess. But you can leave, now!"

"I... I just shot a deer. It's infected with rabies... I mean it was infected. You're lucky I was around, ma'am. Also, I am with the Army, so you can relax!"

"Oh, my... little ole me is so thankful, mister army dude. I just don't know what I would have done. Wait, I do," said the woman. Then, with the quickness of an assassin, the goddess reached around her back. She pulled a Kimber Super Carry .45ACP from her waistband, holding it firmly in her right hand. In her petite hands, the gun looked massive, with its chrome two-tone barrel.

"Oh look what little ole me found. I guess I can protect myself," she said as she pointed the gun at him with the spike collar around her wrists glistening behind the weapon.

"Okay! Okay! Relax, ma'am. I'll leave. Although I would suggest you or someone in your community clean up the deer's remains. The infected blood can infect other animals that consume it."

"Ain't got any community, mister," she replied with her southern drawl. "Plus, I sure ain't gonna touch that thing. You did it, you clean it up!"

"Sure, fine. Lower your gun, and I will," Stronghold grumbled as his eyes kept roaming over her body. "Damn!"

"What? What's a matter?" the southern bell asked with concern in her tone and with the humungous gun still trained on him.

"Nothing, sorry, it's just... Dang, you're hot! I mean, a lot of girls are developed these days, but not like you! Plus, do you have to dress this way? Girls tend to cover themselves," he commented as his eyes took in her black boots and pink shorts that barely covered her full, round ass. The petite shirt rode up, lifting like a snug bra and relieving the bottom half of her voluptuous breasts, and he swore a hint of her nipple. Written on the shirt was the words 'lil monster'.

"Sorry, Army Man. My nun's outfit is inside, but I thought, 'for your enjoyment', I would put this on. Do you like it?" she replied with the middle finger of her gun hand pointing straight up in an unmistakable gesture.

"Yes," was the only reply he could think of, his eyes seemingly unable to leave her revealing outfit barely covering her full-figure.

"Fuck you, dumbass. It's all I have. Clothes ain't easy to find these days."

"You're right. Are you going to keep that gun on me the entire time I take care of this deer?"

"Yep."

"OK," Stronghold replied with a deep sigh. "I'm going to slowly set my pack down. I have a bottle of lighter fluid and some gloves. I will remove them slowly."

Stronghold put on one glove and picked up the bottle. The cannon size handgun didn't waver the entire time. He removed the crossbow bolt carefully, cleaned and disinfected it, then grabbed one leg of the deer and dragged it away. Once the deer was a good hundred and fifty feet from the building, he dripped lighter fluid on it. Then, using a lighter from his pocket, he set it on fire and tossed the glove into the rising flames. "So, what's your name?" he asked, looking back.

"Harley."

"No way! Like the comic book girl?"

"Bingo, you sure are bright."

"I have a comic, Suicide Squad. I just read it. It has a character called Harley Quinn in it. You look like her, but you don't look like her. I mean, I get the hair is up in side ponytails, but your hair's not red and black. Yours is all white?"

"Wow, smart, perceptive and precise. I see why you made Captain. It's not just because you didn't die. If you must know, my parents watched some movie, Suicide... something, so they named me Harleen Brooks, aka Harley."

As he watched the fire, he started to kick dirt on it to keep the flames low and under control. "But, why the white hair?"

"It's not on purpose, asshole. I grew up liking my nickname, and I played the role. I dyed my hair, often, and used dramatic eye make-up," said Harley. One hand left the gun; the hand turned sideways to point at her eyes. She pouted her red lips as she widens her eyes to display the overdone make-up. "One day the acid in the dye and unfiltered water turned it all white. Happy, now?"

"Yes, thanks. Like I said before, I'm Captain Lloyd Stronghold with the Army Recovery Corps. It's nice to meet you, Harley," he said as he kicked the fire out.

"Only my friends call me Harley."

"OK, ma'am," Stronghold said, emphasizing the 'ma'am'. "Do you have any water? We need to dilute the blood pool. Then I'll be done."

Harley turned the barrel of the gun slightly pointing it towards the back of the barn. "There's a well with a hand pump around back."

After returning with a bucket full of water in front of him, and Harley trailing behind, Stronghold added a small amount of the lighter fluid to the water. Using a stick to blend the mixture, he poured it all over the blood covering, cleaning, and diluting it.

"That's it? All done?" asked Harley.

"Yes, the coming storm will help clean the site completely, but this cleaning should work either way," Stronghold answered. Then, on cue, lightning flashed across the sky followed quickly by a roar of thunder. Dark clouds started to fill the sky and block out any sunlight. "Damn, that storm came quick."

"Then, you should get going."

"Ma'am, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I need to stay here tonight. The barn should be fine. It looks to have good cover."

"Fuck you, that's where I sleep."

"Why not the house?"

"It ain't my house, so I ain't breaking in."

With concern in his tone, Stronghold said, "The storm looks bad. I haven't seen another house for miles. I have to insist, ma'am."

Before he could finish the word, 'insist', Harley had raised her large gun and aimed it directly at his forehead. She had a defiant smile on her face as if asking him to give her a reason to pull the trigger. With the barrel level and steady, she said, "Insist? You ain't insisting shit!"

"You're right. I apologize. I'm asking. How about if I cuffed my hand to something? Then you will feel safer. Deal? Or I will stay in the house. The Army often commandeers homes."

"It ain't my house, but if you come in the barn tonight, you will find out if I can handle this gun."

Stronghold walked to the front of the farm house. He raised his foot to kick in the door and paused. Then lowering his foot, he tried the doorknob. It turned and the door opened. Walking into the house, his first impression was the stink of mold. The walls were covered in yellow wallpaper, and pieces of old furniture were scattered around, all covered with a layer of dust, informing him that the farm house had been abandoned a long time ago.

Lying on the couch with his eyes closed, he disassembled his Springfield with his second handgun resting on the coffee table in front of him. He finished field stripping and cleaning both firearms. As he slid the clip full of hollow points into the sidearm, Stronghold recalled his history class at the academy.

About two hundred years before, the world experienced a devastating apocalypse. The world's population was out of control.

From the limited written history recovered, historians estimated that around the 2000's it was discovered that Asia had been exposed with a Chinese governmental drug called Inflixzone (你没他妈的).The drug was developed to decrease the population by reducing libido and the desire to have sex. By the year 2180, the Z-levels were a twenty times greater than ever expected.

At first, scientists reported in China that the drug was working. It was released into the water supply and the levels of the drug were monitored. The level of Inflixzone noted in the environment was called Z-levels. By the year 2030, the population rate of China was reduced by fifty percent. Another thirty years, and it was noted that population rates were decreasing all throughout Asia and Japan.

However, the Z-levels were increasing uncontrollably. High Z-levels were being found in Spain, Russia, and Canada. After a hundred years of the drug seeming to be the cure to overpopulation, the drug mutated and flipped the effects on their head. Almost overnight, Inflixzone was increasing the sex drive.

The exponential increase of Inflixzone in the world started to affect the human brain. Almost overnight, focused areas of the world felt the effect. The extremely high Z-levels fed the human brain, specifically the hypothalamus. The part of the brain that handles the sex drive was literally increased in mass by the chemical. When the brain lost control of the hypothalamus, people thought about and desired only sex.

It took about fifty years for society to collapse, but it did. Groups of people would be seen engaging in sex. Usually led by 2-3 dominate females with 6-10 males, clusters of sexual activity would take place continually. Sexual activity only stopped for rest and the scavenging of food. These groups constantly engaged in sex. Any sparks of reason, thought, work ethics and family left the brain, and the hyper-infected person was now controlled purely by the drive for sex. Inevitably those who were claimed by this overwhelming illness were nicknamed: Sex Zombies, later reduced to Sexbies.

By the time two-thirds of the world had died off or turned into sexbies, the remaining scientists had finally discovered a way to control the reaction. The control came from Zone pills referred to as Z3. These pills, if taken daily, would level out the ever-climbing Z-levels in the brain. However, the longer someone went without Z3, the higher the chance of going over the limit and reaching conversion. However, Z3 was not a cure-all, and if the Z-level was elevated close to the limit, even a glance at a sexbie orgy could lower the limit and instantly push that person over into conversion.

By the year 2295, there were safe camps dotted around the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Anyone who did not live in a safe camp ran the risk of encountering rogue gangs and sexbies. The gangs did whatever it took to steal food, drugs, weapons, and women. The sexbies just ate and had sex with anyone and everyone.

With his eyes closed, sleep took Stronghold almost instantly, managing to sleep for about six hours before the aches from the hard couch woke him. He had chosen the couch for exactly that reason. He knew it would not allow him to completely rest, and it would leave him semi-alert if trouble arose in the night.

2

In the barn, Harley awoke in the old office in the back of the barn - her chosen resting area. With empty cans stacked in front of the door as an early-warning system, Harley was able to sleep, a little - fully clothed in her sleeping bag and her hand on her Kimber.

After waking, she rolled up her sleeping bag and reassembled her pack. With supplies low, it didn't take long for her to pack all her earthly goods. The pack was small, light, and fit her easily. With the pack on her back, she held the handgun in her right hand as she kicked the cans to the side and opened the office door.

Stepping into the barn proper, Harley scanned left and right making sure the area was secure before she slowly made her way to the exit. Experience had taught her caution, and her current caution was due to running into a gang away from a safe zone - the same gang which had destroyed the safe zone she had called home.

The week before, she had come across the Eagles the name coming from all the members wearing jackets with eagles of some sort printed, stamped, drawn or picked-out on them. Harley had been traveling for a week by herself when, at an abandoned building with a faded Greyhound painted on it, she was captured by two Eagles members - shot with a tranquilizer dart. She didn't even see it coming.

Unknown to Harley, she awoke in the Czar's compound lying on a bed in the outfit she was still wearing. She was to be given to the Eagle's Czar, but when a lower level member came into the room to check on her, he had not expected the fight he encountered. After smashing a vase next to the bed on the man's head, she grabbed her pack outside the room, which lucky for her had her gun inside, and ran out the building.

She did encounter two other members and had to use most of her ammo to escape. Now, she had no food and only six bullets left. With the sex goddess outfit as her only means of clothing, she was not sure her next step. If this "Captain" is still around and had plans to head to a camp, she might have no other option but to join him.

Harley stepped out of the barn and into the smell of eggs and bacon. She thought, 'impossible'. She looked to the fire pit in front of the barn and saw Stronghold with a pan over a fire. As she noticed his buzz cut blond hair accents his strong chiseled jaw, she walked closer but with caution. The gun was still in her right-hand.

"Please, sit and join me before I get going," Stronghold said as he moves the pan back and forth over the fire. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but is that eggs?" Harley asked as her eyes noticed his bulging muscular forearm. Stronghold had his shirt sleeves rolled up to avoid the fire. She imagined the bulging bicep connected to his forearm.

"Yep, it comes from a dry egg pack. Just add water and poof. The meat is a squirrel. Shot it this morning."

Stronghold ate from the small frying pan with a metal fork. He held the pan with the fork in it to Harley. He turns the pan so she can grab the handle. The smell of cooked meat and eggs is too much to resist. Harley takes the pan.

"Feel free to eat what you want," Stronghold told her.

"Thanks," was all she said before digging into the pan. The heat didn't slow her down or the thought to share.

"Haven't eaten in a while?" Stronghold stated with his eyes wide. Since seeing Harley this morning, he had been unable to not stare at her curvaceous body. However, as she devoured the meal, he was able to pull his look away from her massacre of the pan's content.

Harley ate without talking. She enjoyed the first hot meal in over two weeks. As she watched the army man, she thought about how her last camp fell apart. Her camp was under the control of the Eagles, the same gang that captured her.

One day, her camp no longer had supplies to give the gang. The men in the gang started wanting women. The camp tried to fight back, but it was destroyed before the day ended. Harley had no family, so she gathered her belongings and escaped undetected. Finishing the meal, she finally spoke, "Thank you. I have eaten. Just nothing cooked."

"You consider joining Camp ATL. We have a dining hall which cooks meals daily."

"I don't know. Is it safe?"

"The safest place in the south. There are two units stationed at the camp, an Army insurgent group and my unit. We have guards posted and daily monitoring of the fenced perimeter. I haven't seen a safer camp."

"Why do you want to help, me? What do you want?"

"Nothing, swear," Stronghold said with his hands raised in the air like he surrendered. "My unit's job is to find and rescue people."

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