The Eros Plague Epoch Pt. 06

And now, at what seemed like the end of civilization, there it was, just waiting quietly on the water for me.

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There was already a boat in the boathouse, a familiar one at that. The long fibreglass body of Grandads Whale; an ancient blue and white powerboat Dad had kept lovingly in working order. That was a good sign, Gil would've had to pick it up at the marina around the time he called me to bring my parents to the island. He'd been here a while. That was good.

"Looks deserted," Wendy commented, tying the stern rope to the dock clip.

"They'd know to keep a low profile," I reassured myself. She was right, though. It was deathly quiet but for the squawks of birds nearby. Large, black winged ones wheeled in the sky, and my stomach sank.

Still unsteady on my feet, Wendy helped me to the dock and slung an arm around my waist so we could walk safely off the T-shaped dock to land. I was trying not to lean on her, but I still laid a hand on her shoulder to balance. Near the step to the grassing ridge of the island, two deep gouges were bored in the dock by bullets, splinters scattered over the end of the dock.

We found Gil halfway up the hill that lead to the centre of the island, main house to the left, guest cabins the right. His body was on its back, eyeless face staring up at the sky, birds pecking at the remaining flesh.

He'd been shot twice. One in the belly, one through the heart. Wendy said it would've been quick, but I'd shot men through the heart before. I'd seen their last moments. They were an eternity.

She tried to tell me it might not be him, but I knew. The sensible sneakers, the jeans, the right height. His wallet was in the remains of the jacket. It was Gil. He'd been there maybe a week, by the state of him. It'd happened sometime just before I woke up, but barely. I immediately hated myself for my dalliance with Faith. Even with Danni.

Hannah's things were in the boat, tossed, items scattered across the decks of the boathouse. Gil had never gotten them out. I'd begun calling for Hannah and Bailey, somehow knowing that they wouldn't answer. The house was open, but unoccupied. The big living room entry of the cabin was trashed, things knocked over, electronics missing. There were bullet holes in the walls by the door. The outbuildings were still closed up.

I began to walk the island clockwise, stepping unsteadily, knowing something had gone horribly wrong. The grass was long, Gil would have cut it first chance he got, even if he had to use the push-mower. Eventually, I had Wendy check the treehouse that nestled in the trees nearby. Nothing. The large open field out back of the house, nothing. The gas mower was there, out back, in the middle of a patch of cut grass.

Wendy found Hannah. Her grave was fresh, maybe only a couple of weeks old. The headstone was a piece of old dock wood showing just her name, heavy rocks piled on top of the small dirt mound. My mind began putting it together, she must have died en route, Gil roaring across the water with her and Bailey. They'd buried her, and whoever had attacked must have come shortly after.

Weeping, I went back to the house, to the open closet where Grandad had his rifles... it was open, and his Colt revolver was missing, Gil's keychain hung from the key in the lock.

My head swam, the pain at the back of my head overwhelming me as grief ate me alive.

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I dreamed. Seventeen again, Gracie Becker giggled as I slid a hand down the front of her bright pink shorts to find the flowery elastic waistband of her panties, inhaling sharply as I slipped through her short thatch and found her lips, damp and sticky. "You're crazy," she whispered, kissing my lightly as she pulled me to her, hips already working on my fingers as I explored her recently-discovered country.

"I'm in love," I answered, shoving my bulge against her hip eagerly as she gasped in joy.

"You're in something, Calvin... ohhh right there, slow, slow," pretty chocolate eyes locked onto me and Grace went quiet, gripping my head to her mouth as I found the spot.

"Not yet," a smartass even then, I retorted.

We were in a small shed on her parents property where they stored the life jackets, pool noodles, floaties and other swimming and water gear. Outside, the adults were all celebrating the annual travelling dinner. They'd get sauced up and cruise the lake, eating at each others homes, downing a few, and then moving on. I'd gotten the tap to drive the barge to the Becker's with my buddy Davey Lister, and Gil, of course.

She'd told me it was just to make out, since I had to go, after all... but Davey had thrown me the wink before we snuck into the storage shed, dragging poor heartbroken Gil along with him, and I knew that he'd be at least one stop on before they knew I never left the Beckers.

It was the nineties, and we'd just read about the g-spot in Maxim, Grace had suggested it to help 'get her ready for me,' after our first couple of times left her sore. I pushed her against the low bench table shoving away a stack of water toys, and she shimmied her butt onto its edge.

"More," Grace demanded opening her legs, showing me the trim dark hair above her entrance. We'd lost a little of the shyness our fumbling first time had been full of, and she seemed proud to show me her pussy in the gloomy little room.

My fingers found her again, and she sighed loudly into my ear. Her pussy was soaking now, starting to open up as I worked steadily in her. I distinctly remember putting my thumb on her clit, not really knowing what it was yet, and being surprised by the explosive orgasm she greeted me with.

"Ooooaaaooowwwww," Grace couldn't hold back, clamping onto my fingers as her body spasmed, the whole shelf shaking as her hips shook, and a clatter outside as the windsurfing board leaned up against the shed fell with a crash.

Sounds, people outside. I stood there with a hand over Grace's mouth as her orgasm subsided, too desperate for what was about to happen to stop. A conversation, I couldn't make out the words, but a woman's voice rose and then both voices moved away, likely drunk and rushing to their next stop. I lowered my hand, eyes still locked on the door, terrified of Grace's father coming in to catch us.

"Hey," I looked back to her, small, long-fingered hands on my fly, freeing me. "Just don't forget to pull out, okay?"

I nodded vigorously, of course I would. I meant it too, but we were kids, and we were stupid.

She slipped off the bench, turning to bend over. I loved her ass, I was in love with her ass. Her a-cups were a great source of concern for Grace, but I didn't care, I loved to suck on them when she'd let me, but was confident in her tiny waist and thick bottom. I bent my knees slightly, pushing forward.

"Ah! Wrong hole, " she reached back and guided me down, my tip slipping between her wet folds. I pushed forward, too young and uncontrolled to know better. Grace stifled a yelp, pushing back at me to slow my thrusting. I was in heaven.

"Oh shit, oh my god, Gracie..." The slippery wetness of her, the head, the gently textured softness... it was immediately overwhelming and I pushed forward, Grace's unworked body struggling to take me.

"Jesus fuh - Cal, slower, fuh-fuck!" I gripped her ass tightly, digging my fingers into the meaty flesh, pulsing forward, "fucker, that hur-" she raised her feet to her tip-toes, changing our angle to escape my frenzy, shoving my driving cock directly over her g-spot again, "uuuaaaaha..."

Grace's protests stopped, and she began rocking back onto me, gasping with each thrust into her, shuddering exhales as I pulled back. Caught up in it now as well, she gave way and I went deeper, lost in her, and she in me, her angle pressed her weight onto my cock, rubbing hard on the edge of my cockhead, I was beginning to boil over.

"Gracie," I grabbed her hips to try to slow her down, but she was making a keening noise, slapping back into me and shaking her hips as I drove into her, "Gracie!" As I slowed my pumping, she threw her head back, gasped, shoving harder into me.

"I'm cuminnnnngggggg," she choked, "don't stop don't stop!"

She didn't really need to tell me, it was too late, I was meeting her with uncontrolled thrusts, spilling myself into her, impossible teenage lust foiling any attempt to be responsible as my ropes of cum coated and filled her. It was incredible, the kind of feeling I'd never imagined, even after our first couple of times. Somewhere in the back of my head, something latched onto that and would never let go.

After, I stood in front of her, ashamed, as she held her hand under her dripping snatch. "Oh fuck, fuck," she cursed, "didn't I tell you to-"

"I'm sorry, I trie-"

Looking up at me, in real life, Grace had shouted at the top of her lungs, crying, slapping me, but in the dream her face twisted to the red-eyed maddened thing that had been swimming after us in the boat. Teeth read, hair greasy and messy, she launched herself at me, burying them in my throat.

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"No Grace!"

I sat up with a start. I wore the same clothes as the night before, my head hurting enough to tell me I was awake. Morning light streamed in the windows, filling the room with colour while birds chirped outside. I lay on the floor of the living room, the fire burning to ashes in the hearth, blankets thrown over me, twisted around my legs. A pillow had been put behind my head, and a fresh bandage applied.

Nearby, Wendy rolled over on the couch and looked at me with sleepy eyes.

"Nice. You're not dead."

My face in my hands, I rubbed sleep from my eyes, "I just had this dream..."

Wendy stood, stretching, wearing only her top and a pair of undies that betrayed her familiar hips, "sounded like it. What happened with Grace? You kept saying her name."

"I, ah," Wendy had been just a little kid then, maybe eight? Did she know what happened, "it was a time we were, uhm, we were together. It ended badly."

Wendy smirked, heading across the living room to where she'd set up the camp stove sometime the night before. "Is that when you knocked her up in the shed?" She fiddled, sparking it, putting a metal coffee pot on to boil.

"Yeah," I crawled from my makeshift bed awkwardly, "you know about that?"

Wendy shrugged, working away at preparing coffee with grounds from a bag in the cupboard. "Sure. I was too little to know back then, but later, she told me everything." Wendy assembled a carafe with a filter while she spoke. "The abortion was a whole thing with our parents, and she was mad at you for a while." She glanced back over her shoulder, "pretty sure my dad would have tried to kill you to this day," she walked back over to me, helping me up.

"Gracie got over it. She said that it was two dumb, horny, kids in that shed. I don't think she ever stopped loving you entirely." Wendy stood squared up with me, "besides, she got married, had a kid, it was all good. Can we stop being weird about it? That doesn't really matter anymore."

I'd been asleep almost thirteen hours, and stumbled outside to relieve my straining bladder, catching sight of where Gil was, A plastic tarp laid over him with a number of stones keeping the edges down. Wendy had been busy while I was out last night. I appreciated it.

She called me for coffee, and I went back in, appreciatively taking the mug. We sat at the long dining room table, me in my Dad's throne a the end (the only chair with arm rests for some reason), her kitty corner to me.

"So, tell me how you got here, Wendy," I asked her. Doing the same cute one shoulder shrug her sister had always rocked to make me crazy, she put her mug down and started rattling it off.

"Well, my boyfriend was a doctor too, a research doctor. Virology.

I nodded, "uh huh?"

She continued, "when things started hitting the fan, he got a call to go to this facility out by Ottawa, some field hospital on the lake - Calabogie. They wanted me too since I worked ERs and had some human chemistry experience.

"We went, it was Freddie we were researching, of course." Wendy took a long sip and put the coffee down, waving over the hot much conspiratorially. "This was early days, so it was really hush-hush. The first job was to find out how it was transmitting. By the time we realized it was in the water..."

I nearly spat, "the water? I thought it was airborne like a cold?"

She nodded, "yeah, that's why it was so slow, why it hit poor countries first, and then small communities here. Less filtering, less shit in the water like fluoride. It would build up slower, it took weeks longer for a place like Toronto to get enough parts per millilitre to infect someone."

That did make sense, a terrible kind.

"So it's in the water, and then we're trying to figure out what's going on. There's labs other places doing the same tests, checking them, comparing them. Most of our cases are people dying at that point, and all of the staff are uninfected so far. We had an infection death rate of something like thirty-five percent, and then as the data from the labs down south was tapering off, the infection rate kept going up, and the death rate. We started realizing that the male death rate was much higher than female. Maybe around fifty-five instead of thirty-five.

The other data was already reporting weird shit at that stage, then mutations started in the survivors here. Suddenly, we were a military outpost researching the infected, and that was when we started seeing a clear distinction and changes between people who survived but became Redeyes, and survivors like you and me."

Wendy downed the rest of her mug, heading to the kitchen to get more.

"What was scary about that was that men who were infected were also more likely to be Redeyes, so for all intents and purposes death or becoming one was about a seventy percent chance. For women less, more like forty-five."

"Is that when you started seeing the changes you were telling me about," I asked her. "The pheromones and auto... what was it?"

"Autonomic breeding selectivity," she called from the kitchen. "It has to do with the pheromones."

"How's that?" God, I felt stupid.

Walking back to the living room, still wearing her little panties, she stood in front of me, and it struck me again how much like her sister she looked. Trade the blonde for chocolate brown and another couple inches in height, and they'd be the same person.

"Well, how long have we been together now? Almost twenty-four hours? I've been walking around wiggling my butt at you for, what, a half hour?"

"Sure," I answered.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

I shook my head, blinking, "what? I... it's not like we really-" she held up a hand.

"Let me tell you, it's been a while since I got some. I've had Freddie too, so that means I have just as crazy a sex drive as you. I had you at my mercy all last night, and I never tried to find out what Gracie meant by 'coke-bottle-dick'."

I sipped long on my coffee, my eyes being drawn down to her crotch now. "Wendy, c'mon," I was confused, on the defensive and not really sure why, "you're Gracie's little sis-"

"Let me make it easier," she cut me off, "people say I look just like my sister," and stripped off her top, revealing her a-cups to the cool air. Nipples popping, she reached back, combing her hair with her fingers, striking a model pose as she waved her generous ass at me.

"Don't you want to come over here and put it in me, Cal?" Turning from me, she bent over and dropped the panties, spreading her legs to give me a look. "How long has it been since you got some? You feeling that tickle in your brain yet? I am."

I stood, "day before yesterday." I wasn't even aware that I was already undoing my belt.

Wendy stood, turning back to me, staring at me with intense brown eyes, just like her sister had. She was tiny, maybe five-three, but she knew how to move, those round hips circling as I approached.

"That's lucky, Dean got his throat ripped out by one of the Redeyes five days ago," I threw my shirt on the table. "It happened right after out morning romp, he went to check some results, but they'd gotten out of the pens." My pants were down along with my shorts in a breath, I was hardening rapidly as I approached.

"That's when I headed here... shit that's something... I," she took a beat, to stare at my cock. "Most surviving males wouldn't be this... um, excited after just a day." Wendy put a finger to her lips, gently sucking it, "I'm a little intimidated by that thing... but," she raised her cute little face to me, "can you eat my pussy for me, Cal? For science."

I was on my knees, pulling a leg over my shoulder in an instant, but instead of the intoxicating scent of woman, I found myself with nothing... A little fishy, a little damp. She wasn't lubricated and ready like Danni and Faith had been. I'd need to earn it. Diving in, I licked from back to front, all the way up, the same flat tongue swipe I always start with...

"Uh.., Wendy, I don't really know how to say this..."

She stepped back from me, it's cool, I knew it'd happen. That's autonomic breeding selection. You and I don't match up. I knew it as soon as I patched you up in the boat."

"Huh," I mused, still inches from her slit. It was a little off, but not especially unpleasant, I'd eaten less appealing box. "For science, then," diving back in.

"Oh shit," Wendy was shocked, surprised as I slid my tongue across her opening, flicking it across her clit, and then long, circular licks around her folds. "Ohhh oh," she was starting to get a bit wetter, arching back and pushing herself onto my tongue as I massaged her ass-cheeks, spreading them as she stutter-stepped into me. "Hell with it, I wanna fuck for science," Wendy admitted.

It took a minute, but I got her engine purring, her hips working, and her fingers twisting into the hair on my scalp, though still careful to avoid the stitches on the back. "I need to know, show me, Cal, my sister always said..."

I stood, sliding my length up her body, gently parting the damp lips of her pussy with my girth, dragging it over her clit slowly as I raised myself to my full height, Wendy stared down, and shook her head, holding her thumb just about where I'd bottom out in her "Jesus Christ, I'm in trouble."

Nodding, I lifted her onto the dining room table, knocking the tall-backed chairs aside so I could open her legs, spreading them out, admiring the thick meat of her thighs and hips as they folded over each other, that same round ass as her big sister had, firm and ready for fun. Wendy was rubbing her clit furiously as I lined up, dribbling a mouthful of spit onto my cock and her quim to smooth the way.

"I don't think I can take that all the way," she told me, raising her head to watch my cock as it neared her opening.

I pushed into her, just past her opening. It was good, hot and wet, but nothing on Danni. Wendy arched her back and moaned, "don't worry," I reassured her as I pulled back, sliding in a tiny bit further, "we're just testing theories here," I pushed, making her jump, her powerful thighs pulling her involuntarily onto me.

"Fuck," Wendy shouted, trying to pull control of her legs back from me, but every move just working herself onto my pole, "oh fuck," she began to relax a bit, continuing to moan "ohh fuck ohhh," giving me room to move. Beginning to pump slowly, I held back, leaving my cock halfway out of her, letting her get used to me, only pressing lightly for a moment as the thick middle of my shaft met resistance in her folds.

"Your sister liked it like this too," I told her, sliding my elbows over her muscular calves to her knees, letting her get her jiggling thighs into a more comfortable position. "Did she ever tell you about the last time we were together?" I watched my shaft sliding into Wendy's pink lips, her chestnut brown bush betraying her bottle-blonde status, her pussy glistening with her dew. She wasn't as wet as I liked, but deep in her I could feel it, the heat, the wetness, my head drew it back each time I forged forward, catching her slick lubrication, spreading it through her sticky channel.