The Broken World Pt. 01

It's been a minute! A few years of writer's block on how to finish stories will do that.

I've written an (at least) three-part post-apocalyptic survival story with lesbian and futanari-on-female (and a tiny bit of futanari-on-male) sex, feminization and a little bit of butt stuff. (Okay a lot of butt stuff).

Also some transformation (to a human cow/hucow) and lactation stuff in later chapters, because why not.

When the shit hit the fan, I fled from the city into the suburbs and found a place to hide. I'd been hiding since then. I saw the murders in the street, heard the radio warnings and the explosions, but I didn't feel any desire to go outside of the neighborhood that I had holed up in and find out if whatever was happening was over. I've been in the basement of 1328 Golden Drive (in swanky West Fairland) for six months now. I didn't know the owners (the Markhams), but they were the lucky ones who had left the doors open and no corpses in the house. The whole neighborhood had been abandoned in the trouble. These one-percenters and nearly one-percenters were probably somewhere remote, waiting it out.

The radio said that there was some sort of viral pandemic that was affecting mostly men, making over 95% of them irrationally homicidal, suicidal or both. There were no answers to the important questions of 'how had it started?' or 'where did it start?' The infected men set off bombs, regular and worse, destroying infrastructure and at least three major cities. For the last few weeks, the radio had been saying that the surviving afflicted men had banded together and were now, for lack of a better description, raping and pillaging the countryside.

I'd felt no symptoms so I laid low and waited.

The power had been spotty here in West Fairland, the internet as well. I could charge my phone but I couldn't watch anything. Websites more complex than wikipedia had stopped working and I had nobody to call. I was an only child and my parents and I weren't on the best of terms to start with and I'm pretty sure that my dad's first victim was my mom. Neither phone had picked up when I called to check on them.

The Event had started sometime either on the 2nd or 3rd of May and now it that it was the week after Thanksgiving, it was starting to get really cold. The solar power system at ol' 1328 couldn't keep the heat on but for a few hours during the day, so I gathered blankets and set up a mattress in the utility closet in the basement.

I had scavenged every can and packet of long-life food from the neighborhood, moving at night whenever possible and had them concealed in moving boxes and inside of the washer-dryer closet. I was set until at least next summer if not through next winter (depending on how I rationed my calories).

I woke up as usual around 3pm in the afternoon (on the 29th of November) and ate a bowl of dry oat cereal, trying to connect to anywhere left on the internet with a book to read on my phone. I'd just settled on rereading a Sherlock Holmes story when I heard the gunshots. Two quick cracks, like a hunting rifle, then a burst of small caliber fire like an Uzi. A moment later I heard a crash very nearby and the sound of bricks and debris falling. Whoever it was had hit a house with a car. A car door opened with a loud cruch and creak, followed by a string of profanity from an enraged male voice.

My blood froze.

Whoever he was, he was shouting something about 'fucking cunts' and opened fire, the staccato clap of an assault rifle, cut suddenly short by another crisp shot from the hunting rifle, followed by silence.

I listened, terrified. Whoever had won, they had ambushed the cunt-shouter and were alive when he died. I could probably handle a lone asshole with a gun, but I thought there was at least one. The moments dragged as I waited until I head a crash upstairs and a woman's voice in hushed tones.

'She's bleeding bad,' A young woman's voice pointed out.

'Thanks for the update on the obvious, Clara,' a husky, confident woman's voice replied. 'Grab whatever rags you can find and put pressure on both sides. I'm going to look for a first aid kit. If we get the bleeding stopped and the entry and exit wound cleaned, she will make it back to the base.'

'O-okay, yes, Mistress,' the younger voice said.

Mistress? I thought. I heard the basement door open and heavy, fast steps coming down. The lights came on in the main part of the basement and I heard her going through everything.

'Who the fuck keeps cans in moving boxes?' I heard her say out loud. Then there was a long pause.

'Clara?' she shouted, 'There's someone here.' There was a pause, I assume for her to pull out whichever gun she was using and then she said quietly, 'If you're a woman, you're safe. We won't hurt you, even if you're changed.'

Changed? What the fuck does that mean?

'If you're a man and haven't attacked me, you're still infected, but I can help you. I can save you.'

I froze for a moment, then moved over into the darker part of the utility closet as silently as I possibly could.

It wasn't silent enough. I heard her open the door and saw a light sweep across me. I turned and she shouted, 'Male, no symptoms.'

A distant voice shouted back, 'thank fuck for that.'

'What's your name?' she asked me.

'Mark'

'Mark, I'm Lena. Clara is upstairs. You've been listening. Our friend Dahlia is hurt. Do you know any first aid?'

'Yes. I'm a, err, I was a vet.'

'I'm guessing you have the first aid kit from every house within earshot, don't you? Along with all of the meds?'

I smiled, 'yes, let me get them for you.' I grabbed a pair of laptop bags that I had turned into first-aid kits and moved to hand them to her.

'Stand up and follow me. If you make a move for a weapon or towards me or Clara, I will do some DIY hole additions for you.'

'Understood. I haven't felt any tendency towards rage or crazy at all, though.'

'Don't care, what I said still stands.' She leveled a very professional-looking submachine gun at me. It had a light on the side along with a little scope on the top and all kinds of useful handles in useful places.

I carried the bags up into the kitchen, where there was blood everywhere. A woman, obviously Clara, was holding a dish rag onto another woman (Dahlia) on the table. She had a through-and-through gunshot wound on her chest and almost certainly a perforated lung. I quickly stepped forward and put my head to her chest.

'Oh Shit!' Clara shouted and shakily leveled a very big (especially compared to her) hunting rifle at me.

'He's going to help her,' Lena stated.

'If he does anything,'

Lena finished her sentence, 'the last thing he will see is his brains exiting his face.'

I couldn't hear any fluid in her lungs. I moved again and listened. I took out a stethoscope and listened to her side and back.

'This is insane. It went through, but seems to have missed the lungs or only nicked them. She's still bleeding bad, but I can stop that.' I started to pack her wounds, both entry and exit, using some military-grade bandages I found in someone's garage. Clara kept the rifle pointed at me the entire time. When it was done, I put a bandage over both holes and taped them down.

'No stitches?' Lena asked me.

I turned to look at her and now that the adrenaline had cleared out of me some, I realized she was at least an inch or two taller than me, maybe even 6'3. She was muscular and busty at the same time, a rare combination and carried herself like a professional athlete.

'Were you, like, an olympic swimmer? Basketball player?'

'Neither. I, um, recently got in shape,' she glanced at Clara, who flushed when she made eye contact. She quickly went back to the previous conversation, 'No stitches?'

'No, not today. Not until tomorrow or the day after, probably. Lets let her insides heal up a little and I'll change the packing tonight or tomorrow, then close it up.'

'There's no tonight or tomorrow for you. I need to get her back to our base and we aren't bringing a man with us.'

'Oh. I understand.'

Clara cut in, 'you can fix him so he can't hurt us.'

'I don't want to put him through that.'

'Wait, what? There's a vaccine?'

'Clara...'

'He saved Dahlia, you should give him a chance. It takes a couple of days. We can lock him in the cab of the truck until it's, um, taken effect.'

I interjected, 'I'll do anything to make myself safe. You can see that I have value for your group.'

Lena shared a smile with Clara. 'Okay, help me load up your food and meds and get her into a bunk on the truck.'

The truck was a military grade transport truck with the back converted into a rather nice recreational vehicle. We stored things on and under a spare bunk, along aisles, in cupboards and in the shower. When those were full, we started filling a rack on the roof. It took most of the afternoon and as it started to get dark, I moved my giant pile of blankets and pillows into the rear row of seats in the cab, turning it into a makeshift bed.

Clara opened the divider between the cab and the rear area, 'do you need anything?'

'No.'

She smiled at me, 'I'll check on you later.' The door slid shut and I heard it latch from the other side. I tried the front driver side door and it was locked. I was in here until they let me out.

I'd gotten no injection from them and with all of the questions on my mind, plus the unaccustomed light while trying to sleep, I lay awake for several hours. Occasionally, I'd hear a high-pitched voice, probably Clara talking to Lena. Sometime after midnight (per my phone), I heard the latch open and saw Clara's slight shape in the doorway. She entered and closed the door behind her, sliding down beside me.

She smelled a little sweaty and had a slight metallic smell of blood still on her, but still - she was the first human who had laid next to me in six months. I trembled as her lips met mine and her hand gripped my hip.

Her kisses were aggressive and needy, her tongue teasing past my lips as she fumbled her hand beneath my shirt. I felt nails gently dragging along my waistline and I was getting unbelievably turned on.

She didn't say anything at all while we made out, her hand eventually finding its way into my joggers and gripping my sex, taking rough strokes as she nibbled my lips. I felt her shift as she shoved my joggers down, inverting herself above me, her shorn, unclothed pussy hovering over my face.

'Mmmmm, use your tongue, Mark.' I didn't hesitate, leaning up and dragging it along her mound, then with each passing slow stroke opening her up more and more. She flowed into me and instead of the normal musky scent it was salty and sweet, much more like how I'd imagined my own issue tasted than any woman I'd ever been with. Still, horny beyond words, I lapped at it, drinking down her unusual nectar.

Her lips worked up and down me as she quietly squealed into me, her tongue teasing my hardness. I'd licked her to orgasm at least twice (by the number of times that I'd gotten a gush of her juices) when I felt myself start to build to an orgasm. I moaned into her pussy and in reply, she sat down on me, muffling the sound, grinding both of her lower openings on my face. I started to thrust upwards, but I felt her push down on my thighs and pinch the base of my cock. My orgasm stopped in its tracks.

She kept grinding and her lips returned. I felt more of her juices flow onto my face, into my mouth. She was gasping and I could feel her pussy spasming around my tongue. I found myself driven to scoop out every drop of her now, my body shaking. I cried out again into her flesh and felt her pinch my cock stopped a second time.

'Mmmmm not just yet... I... I need to have a few more.' She leaned far forward to put her clit at my lips, her delicious sex flowing forward into my mouth. I suckled and licked, drinking it all, my behavior becoming obsessive. Finally she stopped shaking and I felt her lips meet my glans and start to gently suckle. I erupted into her mouth and felt her start to gulp.

At some point during my orgasm, I passed out, waking up later with the morning sun on my face. Clara was gone, but I could still smell and taste her on my beard.

I straightened my clothes and sat up and felt my head go 'swimmy.' Oh fuck, I need to eat. Standing up, I felt like something was 'off' but I couldn't place it. Yawning loudly, I knocked at the door.

Clara opened it, a smirk on her face, 'Good Morning, how are you feeling?'

'Weird,' I said, but my voice came out, well, weird. It caught in my throat and came out squeaky.

Her smirk dropped and she gave me an inscrutable look, almost guilty. We stared at each other for a moment and I thought we were having a moment. I moved closer to kiss her and she dodged at the last second, giving me a friendly hello to the cheek. 'Not right now,' she whispered.

Lena was outside of the living area and I could smell coffee. Dahlia was sitting, awake at the tiny table in the kitchenette.

'I have you to thank for patching me up?' She asked.

'Yes, how are you feeling?'

'Very Ow. Extremely Ow. Is it okay if I grab some painkillers from your kit? I didn't want to presume.'

From outside, Lena said, 'Presume away, we're taking them with us.'

Dahlia blushed, 'Yeah, I'm still not going to do that. Sorry about her.'

'Yes, holy shit yes, take some damn hydrocodone, just don't take tylenol with it. Drink lots of water. You nearly died yesterday.'

'I what?'

'Oh fuck,' Lena said loudly.

'The bullet missed perforating your lung by millimeters.'

'Wow. I... Thank you. Holy shit, thank you and sorry.'

'For?'

'The trouble?' She said in an odd tone.

Lena came in carrying the gun she was using yesterday. For a moment, I was terrified. 'Clara, that guy had a bigger gun, so you will use this one.'

'We talked about this. I didn't like guns before and I'm not warming up to them all that much now.'

'I'm sure I didn't phrase that as a request.'

Clara gave Dahlia and I a funny look and mumbled, 'Yes ma'am,' then promptly left. I could hear her walk off.

'You should go easier on her. You know what she's been through and what she's doing for you.'

'She's not doing it for me,' Lena glanced at me as she said it.

'Marisol will not see it that way. She's going to see it as a win for everyone back home. Everyone is going to be ecstatic.'

'It's just a little first aid.'

I looked confused, 'are you talking about me?'

'Yes,' Lena said, turning to me, 'go make sure Clara is okay and help her start gathering clothes, tools, and cleaning supplies.'

'Sure.'

Lena cocked an eyebrow at me.

'Yes ma'am,' I followed Clara's lead (in more ways than one) and walked out after her.

--

Clara was fuming, going through a garage a few doors down from where the truck was stopped. She had a soft-sided tool bag and was hate-throwing non-delicate machine tools into it.

'That fucking bitch, expecting me to safely handle a fucking gun with these fucking wimp-ass arms. Who the fuck would give me a fucking gun? That bitch has no business being in charge of people.'

'Well I'm sure that you can figure a way to handle it safely with some practice,' my voice, still all over the place, squeaked out.

She started, but didn't scream, 'I know, I just also ain't comfortable with shooting people unless it's an actual emergency. She's right, I just don't like it.'

I walked up and started pulling the higher tools down. I felt like I should be able to reach some of the higher ones but couldn't. Clara also seemed taller.

Am I shorter today? Is it my shoes?

'I'm sorting them. Put machinist tools in the red bag, carpentry in the boxes, plumbing tools are in that box,' she gestured at a box marked for shoes, 'craft and electronic tools in that plastic tote and anything else we'll sort out.'

'You know your tools pretty well.'

'I was an HVAC guy before shit went to hell. Was nice, no coworkers, no boss.'

'Oh shit. That's a nice gig.'

'Yeah, it wasn't bad. You were a veterinarian?'

'Yeah, basically a dog and cat doctor. Been doing it for almost twenty years. If you know someone who needs to be spayed, I got it covered.'

Clara laughed, 'so you know your shit well, then? That's good, Marisol will be happy we have someone who knows their way around stitches and shots, even if they aren't an MD.'

'Marisol is your leader?'

'Coordinator is more like it. No one's in charge, she's just the one who knows how to organize and motivate.'

'Always important to have someone like that. You've been out here since it fell apart?'

'Yeah.'

'Any idea how many dead? Like any?'

'That's a morbid question but yes. We figure between 80 and 90 percent here. Probably a lot more in densely packed places. It's awful.' Clara started to tear up, 'stupid hormones.'

I put my arm across her, 'it's okay.'

'I know. I'm lucky and I shouldn't feel guilty about it. Shit's changed.'

We sat down on the garage floor and suddenly I wanted to go another round with her. I could taste her juices in my mind again and suddenly I was craving them. I turned toward her and she looked at me. She leaned forward and traced her tongue across my lips.

Fumbling, we tore the clothes off of each other, my lips on her throat, her jaw, trailing down to her breast. I took a nipple between my lips and sucked softly. She cried out.

'I want you to eat my pussy again.'

She didn't have to say it twice. She climbed up me and rested her knees on either side of my head, pinning my arms down. Her hands gripped my head, fingers intertwined in my hair, she pulled me to her glistening sex. My lips pursed and I covered her hairless mound with my mouth. It felt better than it did last night, like I was more sensitive there. She let out a gush of her juices into my mouth, it was earthy like last night and looking up, nearly pearly. It was like I was eating someone else's cum from her pussy, but that was impossible, so I kept licking. The taste went to my head as I brought her to a pair of orgasms with my lips.

She reached back and I felt her grip first one then both nipples. I moaned into her sex, her ministrations on my chest felt incredible, my cock somehow getting harder. She tugged and teased them, my body shaking and spasming. One hand left them and reached back, giving my cock a single slow stroke.

I exploded everywhere. I felt jets hit my arms and belly and I'm sure that her back was doused. I went to scream and she bore down, a massive glob of her juices dripping into my mouth.

'Mmmmm fuck you do that so well,' She said, climbing off of me. I sat up and smiled at her, stretching my arms.

'Thank you. Do you want me to clean you off?'

'Only if you use your tongue,' she replied, giving me a shy, sexy smile.

I'm not sure why, but I leaned forward and started licking my seed off of her back, my hands holding her hips. She gasped and reached back, giving my thigh a squeeze.

'Sorry. I...' She started, but didn't finish.

I dragged my tongue through a dense patch of cum and despite never having had it in my mouth before, I swallowed it. A moment later, my skin started to burn, like I had an allergy to what I'd just ingested. I sprung back.

Clara looked at me, an unusual look of sorrow or guilt on her face. Her eyes darted to my chest.

I looked down and saw my hair falling out. Not a little bit. Every single follicle was ejecting its strand. It cascaded down my body, getting stuck for a moment in the mess on my belly.

As I watched, the semen on my stomach seeped into my skin, which started to look smoother and more even, almost feminine.

'W-what the fuck is happening?'

'You needed to be made immune to the disease. This is how you're made immune.'

'My cum makes me immune? It gives me,' I looked down, 'holy shit, it gives me tits?' My chest swelled and my nipples thickened. I watched as a pair of tiny perky tits pushed out from my chest, even as that same chest shrunk in size.