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The New Order: Chapter 3 - Things Fall Apart
by The Pediatrician
mg; mdom; tf; mast; viol
“Is he still out there?” Rachel asked quietly from the darkness of my living room.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. I kept my eyes glued to the figure as I spoke, trying to see if he reacted to my words, but the guy didn’t move… evidently I had been quiet enough so that he didn’t hear.
I heard the faintest of rustling as Rachel squirmed out onto the patio beside me, her tiny, delicate, fuckable body a delicious distraction. “Jesus, how can he just stand out there in the rain like that?” she whispered in my ear. “I’d be going insane after just ten minutes!”
I reached over and patted a flat, firm, lycra-clad ass cheek as I grinned. “Yeah, but you’re a girly-girl,” I shot back, my lips only an inch from her ear and my words barely audible to her over the sound of the downpour. “You’d go insane in just ten minutes without lip-gloss.”
Even with the sound of the rain I could hear her purr with satisfaction as she wriggled her butt against my palm. “That’s true,” she agreed.
I left my hand where it lay, enjoying the heat of her body against my hand, the sheer scent of unwashed little girl tickling my nostrils. “Do you need to be taken care of?” I asked as I dangled a finger down into the cleft of her thighs and felt the heat of her sex practically sear the flesh from my digit.
She pondered the question for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Nah, I’m okay right now. Maybe in a little bit.” She paused for a second, and then smiled a wicked little smile. “You can leave your hand where it is, though.”
“’K.” We both fell silent as we peered at the figure below, and I continued to grope my ‘pre-teen’ lover as she squirmed closer to my side.
The evening after our confrontation downstairs had passed quickly. Once we had wrapped up our post-coital cuddle session, both of us set to work on our respective tasks. Rachel was determined to organize the possessions we had retrieved from her apartment, squatting before the garbage bags as she rummaged and unpacked, sorting things into neat, disorganized piles. The fact that she did so bare-butt naked should have been a distraction, but after what we experienced – and did to and with each other during the previous half-hour – neither one of us actually thought it strange, and for the rest of the evening we paraded around the apartment in the nude.
As for me, I was determined to see to the physical well-being of my new lover. The bite on her shoulder was nasty, looked painful, and definitely ruined her alabaster body, but it didn’t appear too deep. The jagged hunk of skin was torn out of her shoulder still oozed blood in a sluggish, sticky stream, but there didn’t appear to be any muscle damage. I drew upon my Boy Scout training from a previous lifetime and dressed the wound as best as I could – after smearing half a tube of anti-bacterial ointment on the tear, I affixed a white gauze bandage and taped the sticky, bulky mess to her flesh with what seemed like half a roll of tape. Rachel winced slightly as I pressed the gauze in place, but suffered through my amateur doctoring stoically as she sat on my lap.
Both of us thought that we would be far too keyed up to sleep that night, but to our surprise our exhaustion caught up to us and within an hour and we decided to get some rest. I had offered her use of the couch, but the tiny blonde looked at me as if I were an idiot as she grasped my hand and led me back to the bedroom, her tiny, flat ass wriggling seductively as she led the way. We made love once more – a slow, languid session that seemed simultaneously loving and primal, and Rachel came as she writhed and moaned atop me, impaled on my cock and with one of my hands lightly gripping her throat while the other tweaked her little-girl nipples, mere seconds before I deposited another hot, sticky load of my teenage seed inside her underage body. We fell asleep curled up next to each other, our bodies pressed together despite the hot, humid air, and passed into a dreamless slumber.
We awoke to find that nothing had changed, that we were still physically transformed, and wondered whether our new bodies were permanent or not. Well, I wondered… the second that Rachel awoke her hand sought my cock, and she lay beside me, gazing up at my face with wide, innocent eyes, as she gave me one of the greatest hand-jobs I had ever experienced, and she ducked her head down to lap at the sticky mess I made after I exploded all over her hand and my belly. Naturally I had to return the favor, and her orgasm was earth-shattering as she lay on the mattress, her legs splayed as wide as possible, as I lapped at the tiny, almost underdeveloped nubbin of her clit until she gushed onto my lips and clung to my head as she shuddered and gasped in pleasure.
The rest of the day moved on. After a quick shower I emerged to find that Rachel, clad in another of my oversized dress shirts, had made us breakfast. Actually, I should say ‘attempted’ to make breakfast – somehow, the tiny blonde had managed to overcook oatmeal, rendering an average packet of peaches-and-cream flavored instant into a wad of grayish-colored paste that smelled vaguely of eggs. She then hopped into the shower as I patrolled, surfed the channels, tried the phone, attempted to clean the small Rachel-blood stain off the couch cushion from the night before while she made herself ‘presentable.’ I had plenty of time… the girl spent over an hour showering, primping, preening, doing something in the bathroom while I cooled my heels outside.
When she finally emerged, I do have to admit that she was worth the wait. “Well, how do I look?” she asked as she pursed her lips and twirled, the hem of the dress shirt flaring up and giving me a tantalizing peak of the top of her thighs. She had spent the time going through the contents of her retrieved makeup, and now appeared less like an innocent pre-teen girl on the cusp of becoming a woman – and more like a pre-teen girl who had gotten into her mother’s makeup case and had gotten lucky enough to appear a few years older than she actually was. A pair of braids snaked their way to her shoulder blades, her lashes appeared miles long, the eye shadow and eye liner and blush were all understated and brought out her color, and her lips were a shiny, glossy, bubble-gum pink.
“I think,” I replied as I stepped close, “that you look great. Molestably great,” I added as I ran an exploratory finger down the side of her neck.
She blushed prettily as she squirmed with delight. “Thank you, Mikey!” she said happily in a high, breathy voice.
Two minutes later she was kneeling on the couch, her hands tightly gripping the back and her face raised to the ceiling, as I used her braids as a set of make-shift reins and speared her from behind. She felt tight around my cock and she whimpered in discomfort as the tip of my shaft pounded against her hyper-sensitive cervix, but she didn’t seem to mind and came with a whimpering, shuddering mewl of pleasure as I splurted inside of her for a third time.
After that, we both went about our work. Well, to be more accurate, she went about her work while I continued doing nothing effective. Rachel was determined to salvage her wardrobe as much as she could, and after sorting through her treasures pulled what looked like a complicated sewing kit from the flowered beach bag. I sat on the couch and watched, astonished, as she snipped and sewed and measured and gnawed on her lip and thought and snipped and sewed some more, transforming pink CUM DUMPSTER into a spaghetti-strapped tank top that would fit her newer, tinier form. “I didn’t know you could sew,” I said as she was retying the shoulder straps after removing about six inches from the middle of each.
“A long time ago, I lived in L.A. and tried to make it in television,” she replied around the wad of pins wedged between her shiny lips as she glared critically at her handiwork. “I never had much money, so I learned to repair and modify my own clothes rather than buying new stuff. Eventually, I got so good at it that I could do just about anything with fabric and just started making my own stuff.” She gave a nod of satisfaction, stood, let my dress shirt fall to the floor, and slipped the now-perfectly-sized tank top over her head. “Well, what do you think?” she asked as she posed in front of me.
She had done an excellent job… The top now hugged her slim, curve-less body like a second skin and seemed to accentuate her girlish figure. She had lopped off enough fabric from the bottom so that it now fell to just below her ribcage, and if it weren’t for the sparkley CUM DUMP emblazoned across the front I would swear that she had purchased it from a tween clothing outlet. All in all, a very cute, very sexy outfit – but if I had to be honest, the fact that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing from the waist down might have had something to do with my opinion. “Ah, it looks fine,” I remarked as her tiny navel seemed to wink at me and I labored to keep my gaze above her equator through sheer force of will.
She grinned a toothy grin that lit up her face, a beaming smile of pure pleasure. “Thank you, Mikey!” she cooed as she attempted a curtsey, and I was forced to dig deep once more. “Now, for pants,” she added as she spun back to the clothing garbage bag and squatted over her clothing pile. “Pants, pants, what can I do…” she muttered as her slim, flat ass wriggled before my eyes.
“Her-um,” I cleared my throat as I stood. “I think I’ll patrol again, see if anything new has developed.” And to get away from a skinny pre-teen ass squirming in front of my face, I added silently to myself.
You have to understand, it wasn’t that I wasn’t interested… far from it. I was very interested, but it appeared that I would have to be the one to exhibit self-control. Since she had allowed herself to sleep with me the night before, Rachel was interested in sex. Actually, I need to qualify that… she was obsessed with sex. That second day I learned to read the signals – every few hours she’d start cozying up to me, acting seductive and sexy and hanging on my every word with breathless fascination (even if I were explaining the apparent advantages and disadvantages of Captain Kirk versus Captain Picard). If I didn’t respond, she would redouble her efforts. In another situation it might have been funny… here I was, a teenage boy of approximately thirteen years, supposedly the horniest creature on the face of the planet, and I was being easily out-horndogged by a pre-teen sex kitten. She insisted that we “mess around” (if she were feeling aggressive) or “make love” (if she were feeling insecure or needy) at least three separate times during the second day of our self-imposed incarceration. I got more action that day than I had in the previous five years – and I quickly discovered that, unless I was the one to say “no,” Rachel would have been content to spend every waking minute in bed.
If my sex life improved dramatically, all the other aspects of our lives continued to degrade until both Rachel and I were forced to acknowledge the unspoken truth. The television channels continued to display the emergency broadcast alert, but no further information beyond the alert was given – except for Telemundo, which for some reason started a marathon of an obscure Mexican soap opera. (Rachel and I watched it for about an hour with the sound muted, but my piece-of-shit television only provided closed-captioning in Spanish, and as neither of us were fluent it didn’t do much good. We ended up creating our own dialogue that somehow degenerated into a psycho-sexual drama with significant bondage and lesbian overtones in which all the characters were sleeping with and impregnating each other off screen. It amused us for a little bit, but got old very quickly.) The fires several blocks away weren’t abating, and if anything seemed to be growing a bit worse as the smoldering flames consumed more and more of the small commercial area nearby. The phones finally died completely, with cell service completely unavailable and the land line just providing a dull clicking noise whenever you picked up the receiver. And finally we managed to run through the remaining contents of my refrigerator and started winnowing our way through the contents of my cupboards.
We made love again that evening, and Rachel clung to me as she shuddered through her orgasm as I thrust into her with wild abandon and once more exploded inside of her. We slept – and the power died sometime during the night. We awoke to a dark apartment filled with thick, muggy air, the sky outside an angry, threatening shade of steel. We still had water but it didn’t seem to be flowing as well as before, so with a touch of forethought we filled every container we possibly could with the lukewarm, slightly metallic liquid and stashed it in the kitchen. Rachel finally acknowledged that there was little more she could do with her wardrobe – she had managed to put together four tiny tank tops, a full-length tee-shirt that fit her like a dress, and three pairs of skin-tight Lycra shorts that hugged her slim hips like they were painted on her body, but there was very little she could do with her bras or panties. She pouted and complained for a few minutes about not having any lingerie (“A woman isn’t a woman without a bra,” she said with a tiny scowl), but after a few minutes I ended up turning her over my knee and swatting her backside a few times. She squirmed and ‘fought’ my assault, but I could tell that it was all an act… and it served to work her up to the point that she rode me like a bronco, thrusting herself down on my throbbing prick yet again.
“That’s eight,” she gasped as she lay on top of me, her tiny body shuddering with the aftershock of her orgasm, sweat running down her bare back and sticking us together like glue.
“Nine,” I corrected as I stroked her smooth skin and she squirmed with pleasure.
“What?”
“Twice that first day,” I counted. “Five times yesterday. And twice today so far, once when we woke up and just now.”
She sat up and peered at me with a quizzical expression. “You’re actually keeping count?” she asked with a small smile.
I shrugged. “Hey, I’m a guy,” I responded as I tweaked a deliciously sensitive nipple. “We keep track of these kinds of things.” We both could have probably said more but instead decided to make out for a while, and by the time we were through we had decided that continuing the conversation was pointless – especially after I poked a finger against her tight little puckered asshole, and she responded by giving me a little-girl lap dance while still impaled on my rod. It was more playful than sexual, but it served as the perfect capper to our impromptu ‘nooner.’
Except for the ongoing improvements in my sex life, the third day continued the downward spiral of our situation. Rachel’s shoulder continued to heal, but every time she moved her arm she winced slightly at the dull ache radiating from her wound. She tried to hide her discomfort from me, but given our close and near-constant proximity I could tell that she was in pain. That was bad enough – but far worse was the fact that we would run out of ointment after the next morning, gauze bandages the day after that, and her shoulder didn’t seem to be improving all that much. We were forced to go onto half-rations because of our food situation, and ended up splitting a bowl of the horrid ramen that evening. As the light started to fade the air in the apartment grew intolerably hot, and we ended up opening all the windows and the glass door to the balcony… which didn’t do much good, given the thick, soupy atmosphere outside.
It was when I quietly opened the patio door, frowning slightly at the drizzle outside, that I noticed the figure standing on the street. Tall-ish, with reddish hair and a dull expression, he just stood on the warm, wet asphalt, his gaze focused on nothing as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. “Rach, stay quiet and out of sight,” I said quietly as I dropped to my knees, then prone, and wormed my body across the smooth concrete to the railing. “There’s someone out there.”
Behind me, Rachel paled in the darkness and actually shrank back against the couch arm. “Another psycho?” she whispered.
“I think so. I’ll keep an eye on him.” That started my hour-long spying session, a session that rapidly grew dull as the figure didn’t do anything. The rain got heavier, then heavier still, and I could swear that the fires a few blocks over damped a little bit from the deluge, but other than that nothing else seemed to change.
After squirming out to accompany me, Rachel peered down at the figure. “Should we do something?” she asked softly with her lips pressed against my ear.
“I don’t know… Maybe not,” I replied just as quietly. “I don’t think he knows we’re here. Maybe if we’re quiet, he’ll just… wander away.”
A sudden crack of lightning lit up the street, a flash accompanied by a blast of noise that seemed to rattle the very earth below. Rachel bit her lip to keep from squeaking and pressed herself against me, while I started from the sudden shock of the visual and audio assault. But the figure didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t do anything – he just stood there, rocking back and forth.
“Maybe he’s dead, and just doesn’t know it yet,” the tiny blonde whispered. “Y’know, like a zombie.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I hissed back. “There’s no such thing as zombies.”
“I’m not being ridiculous!” The tone of her voice made it clear that, if she were standing, she would have stamped her foot in frustration as she pouted.
“Be quiet!” I insisted. “I think he moved!”
We both fell silent and peered at the figure below. After a few seconds he simply froze, and then raised his head. He scanned the street, turning first one way and then the other, and as the rain started to slack he raised his face even higher as he peered about.
“What is he doing?” Rachel whispered.
“I think he’s… sniffing,” I replied. The madman kept turning in a small circle, smelling the air, searching for a scent of… something. Both Rachel and I held our breath, willing ourselves invisible to the figure. The world seemed to pause… and then, in the crackerbox house down the street, a faint glow leaked out from behind the curtained window.
“No, don’t, turn off the light,” I whispered as I felt my mouth go dry.
“Fuck, I think he sees it,” Rachel added, her voice tinged with fear.
Then things got worse. The curtains cracked a few inches, spilling even more light into the darkened street, and the survivor inside flicked on a flashlight. The bright white beam slashed through the darkness, cutting a wide, heavily shadowed swath right into the center of the street.
“No, turn it off, turn it off!” I desperately willed my thoughts to flit through the air to the house, and felt a cold dread in the pit of my stomach as I hear a low, feral growl rise from the figure.
Everything then happened in a seeming heartbeat. The madman below spun and charged towards the house, his low growl rising to a snarl of pure rage as he made a direct bee-line for the large window in front. Before either Rachel or I could react he flung himself forward, pushing off his muscular legs to arc through the air, and smashed through the glass in a single fluid movement. The flashlight beam fell back into the house, and a young, feminine shriek of terror cut through the gentle rain like a buzzsaw. A second figure raced out of the darkness and clambered through the window, and a third scrambled from around the back of our building and past the jagged glass. The light in the house seemed to dance as shadowy figures moved out of our sight, and a girlish scream echoed on and on, a scream of agony and horror and savage, mind-shattering madness that grew higher and higher, more animal and less human, trembling in the upper registers as the trio of madmen visited their horrors upon their victim. And then with a suddenness the scream cut off, and all I could hear were muffled snarls punctuated by the occasional snap of bone.
“Oh Jesus,” Rachel moaned, her voice sick as she buried her face in my shoulder. “Oh fuck. Oh my fucking God, are they… eating her?”
“I… think so.” I took a great, guttering breath, and then pulled Rachel along with me as I squirmed back into our darkened, second-floor apartment. “I don’t think…” I started to say before I realized that there was nothing I could say. What we had just witnessed did more to tell us the kind of world we were now living in, and of the dangers we faced.
That night, as we made desperate love to each other, I held Rachel close as she bucked underneath me, her body slick with sweat and her little-girl nipples cutting into my abdomen. “Please don’t let that happen to me, Mikey,” she gasped as she wrapped her arms and legs around me and held me to her as I filled her completely. “Please, I don’t want to die like that.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I swear.”
And then we both came and shuddered and panted in each other’s arms before falling into a rough, nightmare-laden doze. I remember dreaming of Rachel being eaten alive, and being helpless to do anything about it – and of the sheer, heart-rending loss I felt. She never told me what she dreamt of, but I know Rachel too saw a horrific scene whenever she closed her eyes.
Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep that night.
“We can’t stay here anymore, can we?”
I looked down at the tiny blonde girl curled up against me. Rachel lay pressed against my side, her nude, sweat-slicked form sticking to my skin as she rested her chin on my chest. Her small hand was wrapped around my thick, turgid erection, slowly, languidly stroking my cock as she peered into my eyes.
“No, I don’t think we can,” I finally said. I pushed my head up and kissed her lips, and she responded by stroking me a bit faster. “We’re almost out of food, it’s like a sauna in here, and we’re running out of medicine. And with the water situation… Well, I just think it might be nice to be able to have drinkable water and be able to take a shower at the same time. I’m sticky, and I stink.”
“No, you smell nice ‘n musky,” she responded with a kiss to my chest. “I stink.”
“Hey, that’s fine by me,” I responded as my breath came a little quicker. “I like stinky little girls.”
I slid my hand down her back to cup one tiny, firm ass cheek, and lifted her onto my prone body. Rachel felt almost weightless as she slipped on top of me, her skin soft against my palm. She settled into place, her legs splayed wide around my hips as she rested the hot, tight slit of her sex against the head of my throbbing prick. She gave the tiniest mewl of pleasure as she kissed the notch of my chest, her tongue flicking out from between her shiny pink lips to taste the sweat of my body.
“You keep that up, girl,” I growled as I gripped her slim hips in my hands, “and I’m not going to be responsible for what happens.”
Rachel responded with a wicked grin. “Why, keep what up?” she asked in a naive tone, her young face making her words seem even more innocent. At the same time she rolled her hips slightly slipping the very tip of my cock into her slit. She lapped at my chest once more and then sat up, balancing her entire body on the head of my steely shaft, her thighs trembling at the effort to maintain her position. “I’m just sitting here, trying to have a conversation with my lover.”
“You’re being a little cocktease is what you’re doing,” I replied, my voice thick with lust. I pushed my hips up, trying to press into the young pre-teen slut straddling me, but Rachel grinned wickedly and raised herself higher, keeping her treasures just out of reach and I was forced to drop back to the mattress with a growl of frustration.
“Is that all I am?” she asked with a saucy grin, sliding the length of her tiny slit along the head of my cock.
“No,” I grunted. “You’re also a slut!”
“Oooh,” she moaned as she planted her palms on my abdomen and let her body weight pull her down onto me, her pussy stretching wide to allow half of my bulbous cock-head inside of her as she allowed herself to be impaled. “That does sound like me! What else am I?”
With a growl I gripped her upper arms and rolled her over, pinning her to the mattress with my body weight as she squealed. “What you are is a little girl who’s going to get the shit fucked out of her,” I grunted as I pressed my hips forward and pushed into her tight pussy. “I’m gonna pin you to this bed like a butterfly on a piece of wood!”
Rachel cried out as I lodged the head of my cock inside her stretched, straining pussy, a half-moan, half-sob of agonized ecstasy. “Fuuuccckkk, I always forget how big you are!” she gasped as she wriggled her hips, a maneuver that only served to ease my entry. She arched her back as I pushed another inch of man-meat inside of her and hissed. “I think I made a mistake here!”
“Yes,” I replied with an evil leer as I met her eyes and gripped her tight. “Yes you did.” I began to thrust into her, a steady, hard rhythm that drove me as deep as possible, and Rachel responded by rolling her hips up and spreading her thighs as wide as possible in order to accommodate me. Even though she had gladly given herself to me (or she had surrendered as I had taken what I wanted, depending on how she decided to interpret the session) over a dozen times over the past few days she was still tight, although once her juices started flowing she did loosen up a bit and I was able to slide into her without too much discomfort for either one of us.
“Don’t stop!” she gasped as I started to slow my pace just a bit. She gripped my shoulders and held me on top of her as she rolled her hips and thrust against me. “Don’t stop! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!!!”
She squealed as I suddenly rolled over, forcing her on top. “You want a hard fucking, then you do it, slave!” I growled in mock anger.
“Oh!” she gasped. She placed her palms back on my abdomen for support and thrust herself down, impaling herself on my prick. “Oh, fuck! Oh fuck!!! I’ll do my best, master, but you’re so big!”
The tiny blonde rolled her hips forward and back, less thrusting herself down on me and more wriggling the steely shaft lodged inside of her. She bore down a bit more, her lips drawn back as she bared her teeth and grunted with the effort, and managed to take another half inch of cock into her stretched, straining pussy. She sat up straight, throwing her head back as she shuddered with a mini-orgasm, and I too felt my lust rise even higher as I drank in the sight of her tiny pre-teen body, her stiff nipples capping her flat chest, of the fist-sized bulge my cockhead made in her normally-flat belly as it filled her up. “Fuck…” she moaned as she brought her head forward again, tiny tears of discomfort filling the corners of her closed eyes. “I think you’re gonna tear me open!”
“Don’t stop, slave,” I growled as I felt my thighs tense. I lightly gripped her throat and squeezed, ever so gently, as I pressed my hips up. “Keep doing your duty! You’re gonna take every drop, and love every second of it!”
“Y… Yes, master!” She rolled her hips once, twice, three more times, grinding herself against me, and then she shuddered and stiffened as the tidal wave of her orgasm crashed through her body. I was mere seconds behind her, and the world swam as I pumped jet after jet of thick, sticky jism inside her spasming cunt, injecting my seed directly into her open, waiting womb. The only sound issuing from between her parted lips was a whispery moan as she shuddered through her little death… and then with a gasp she collapsed on top of me, clinging to my sweat-slicked body as she trembled. “Master…” she whispered.
I recovered as well, and we basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking. “Very nice, slave,” I murmured with a small, wicked smile as I stroked her smooth, slick back. “I knew that purchasing you as a brood-mare would be a good investment.”
“Thank you, master,” Rachel replied with a happy little wriggle. We both fell silent for a few minutes, and then she propped herself up on one hand and looked me in the face. “That reminds me of something I was wondering,” she said with a slightly troubled look on her face. “We’ve been fucking a lot. I mean… a LOT,” she began. “Should we think about protection, or something like that?”
“You mean, like condoms?” I replied as a nasty little thought entered my head.
“Yeah. Although, I just don’t know. I mean, given all of this, can I even get pregnant?” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her own body. “If I’m truly a little girl again, does that mean that I’m not yet fertile?”
“I… I don’t know.” I had a sudden image flash into my mind, of a pre-teen Rachel in her emerald lycra shorts and her CUM DUMP tank-top, standing before me with her hands folded over her grossly swollen belly. “Should we stop doing it, until…”
“Hmmmm,” she said as she pondered my question. Her eyes contained a devilish glint as she pretended to think about it, but at the same time she wriggled her flat little ass against my shrinking, sticky cock. “I think,” she began as she leaned up and kissed my forehead, “that we should not stop.” A few inches down, kissing just under my right eye. “I think we should keep doing it as much as possible.” Other side of my nose, her lips against my left cheekbone. “And, I think we should do it more often.” Her lips met mine, and I held her tight as we kissed a deep, passionate kiss, our tongues flicking forth to fence in our joined mouths. “But, I think we should try not to have you deposit your stuff in my cunny,” she finally concluded when she broke the kiss.
“Okay, fine by me,” I replied. My stupid, happy grin grew a little wicked as I patted her bare ass cheek. “I’ll start reaming you out back here, it’s a safe place to go without any unforeseen complications.”
“Oh, HELL no,” she said with a smile as she thumped my chest, her tiny hand feeling like a gentle swat from a kitten. “There is no fucking way I’m ready to take you back there. Give a girl a little time to get ready – like, lot’s of booze and a gallon of lube!”
“Okay, in your mouth and on your face it is,” I said with a laugh as I slapped her ass semi-hard. As Rachel squealed in mock outrage I hugged her tight, and she relaxed in my arms.
We didn’t speak for many minutes as the joy of our own little sex discussion faded and the reality of our world returned. Rachel finally took a great sigh of sadness. “I…” she uttered, and then trailed off.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I don’t want to think about it either.”
“I wish we could just stay like this forever.”
“Me too. But we can’t.” I gently rolled her over until she snuggled back against my side, laid her head on my chest, and basked in the afterglow. “We’re gonna run out of food today, and I don’t think we’ll have water for too much longer,” I continued as I wracked my brain. “And we’ve escaped the notice of those… things… for now, but who know how much longer that will last?”
“Yeah.” She was quiet for a second, and then looked into my face with a fearful expression. “But where can we go?”
“That, my dear, is the million dollar question.” I wiped the sweat from my brow and surreptitiously tried to wipe it off on the sheet beside me. “Right now, I think the biggest priority is to get out of the city. Head into the suburbs, find someplace where we can restock some food and medicine, maybe grab some other things along the way, and find another place to hole up. At least, until we can figure out something better.”
“But what about those psychos?” she asked in a trembling voice.
I sighed. “That’s another thing,” I replied. “I don’t think we can take any chances with them. After what we saw last night, I don’t think they can be reasoned with.” I paused, took a breath, and finally just said exactly what I was thinking. “We need some firepower.”
Rachel pushed herself up on one hand and peered down at me. “But… I mean, I don’t…” I could see the conflict in her eyes as a cherished life philosophy warred with the practical needs of our current situation. “I suppose so,” she finally muttered sadly, conceding defeat as practicality won out.
“Hey, don’t worry, kiddo,” I said as I patted the side of her cheek. “I won’t ask you to shoot anyone. I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“I guess.” She leaned in suddenly and kissed me, her lips feeling soft against mine. “Thank you for being my protector,” she whispered as she pressed her sweaty forehead against mine.
“It’s my pleasure,” I replied softly. I kissed her again, and then gently slapped her backside. “Okay, we’ve gotta start planning,” I said decisively as I rolled her off of me and slipped out of the bed, perhaps for the last time. “One last breakfast in this place, and then we’re off for greener pastures.”
It appeared that our decision came at exactly the right time. Rachel tried to turn on the shower while I started to clean out the little bits left in the cupboards, but the pipes just made a little rattling groan and a thin, hot stream of rusty water trickled out of the tap. The supplies in the kitchen weren’t much better, and ultimately I was forced to stare at a sad, lonely solitary pack of ramen noodles, some garlic powder, and a bottle of oregano that I believe I purchased three presidents ago. Ultimately, we packed up the few bits of clothing that we could generously claim still fit us, tried to ignore the rumbles of our stomachs, and staged our possessions in the living room. It was a meager pile of things, barely enough to fill a single of my suitcases.
“So, how are we going to do this?” Rachel asked as she sat on the couch and pulled on an ancient, grossly-oversized pair of cheap flip-flops I had purchased years ago to use around the pool at my gym. She made a rather incongruous sight – a tiny little girl with greasy blonde pigtails, a pair of sapphire-blue, skin-tight Lycra shorts, and a lacey white tank top that argued that CHICK’S PROVIDE THE BEST HEAD beside a pair of crossed beer bottles. “I mean, what’s the plan?”
“Okay,” I said as I psyched myself up – I just knew that Rachel was going to hate this. “Okay. This is what we do. We go onto the balcony, see if we can spot any of those psychos. If we spot any, we try to figure out some way to distract them, to draw them away from the building. Once we think it’s safe, we grab our stuff and head down to the parking lot. We get in my car, book ass out of town, and never look back.”
Rachel through about the plan, made a face, and nodded. “I guess that’s about the best we can do, right?”
“Right. But – you’re going to have to haul the suitcase along. I’ll lead the way with Louie, and take care of any issues that come up.” I raised the bat, the end stained darker than the rest of the wood from our earlier encounter, and made a small hitting motion. “If we move fast and if we move quietly, then we shouldn’t have any problems.”
“Yeah, but where do we go once we’re out? I mean, if this stuff’s happening all over the world…”
“I’ve thought about that.” I leaned Louie next to the door and took a seat next to Rachel on the couch. “I think first thing we need to do is find supplies. I think we need to head out into the suburbs and find one of those big box stores that sell everything, break in, and get what we need.” I took a deep breath, exhaled, took Rachel’s hands in mine and looked into her innocent face as I steeled myself. “Now, I don’t want you to freak out and overreact, ‘cause we don’t have time for that right now. But… I was thinking that, once we get enough to survive, we make our way north to New York and find out what happened to your parents.”
Rachel jumped in her seat like she had been goosed by a cattle prod, and a shimmering look of pure adoration filled her eyes. “You’d… you’d do that for me?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Yeah. No, stop!” I put a hand out to stop her from leaping into my arms, and inadvertently ended up with an empty hand unfilled with pre-teen breast as she accidentally pressed her nipple into my palm. “I knew you’d react like that, and we just don’t have time to mess around right now! We need to get moving, so we’ll do that stuff later.”
“O… Okay,” she said. Still, her eyes glistened in the corner as she grinned widely and looked at me with a gaze filled with worship. Thinking I had made my point I dropped my guard – and was promptly punished for my carelessness by Rachel affixing her lips to mine in a hot, breathy kiss. “Fine, we’ll do it later,” she said as she pulled away and stood up. “But tonight, you’re so getting rewarded, mister!”
I slapped her ass playfully. “Okay, butt stuff it is.” She affixed me with a glare of mock anger as she growled with no heat, and graced me with another quick kiss.
We gathered our gear and paused in the center of the living room, taking one last look around our refuge-cum-love nest. I glanced at Rachel, who peered back at me, and neither one of us felt the need to say anything significant. “Head over by the door,” I finally said as I moved towards the patio. “Get ready.”
Outside the neighborhood was quiet, silent, the air thick and heavy as if holding its breath. I peered back and forth, first one way and then the other, scanning every nook and cranny for any signs of life. Nothing leapt out at me – the street below appeared as abandoned as it had been for the past few days. I spent several minutes staring at the shattered window of the crackerbox house, trying to sense if the trio of madmen was still inside, but nothing gave me a hint. A few blocks over the fires had resurged and were consuming the commercial district, giving us yet one more reason to flee. One last glance around, and I moved purposefully back inside and towards the door. “Okay, let’s go.”
For some weird reason I locked the door behind me as we left. It seemed strange, but I just felt as if it were something I had to do – but once it was done, I felt a sense of finality. Rachel and I crept down the hall and down the stairs, retracing our steps from our adventure down to her apartment, both of us silent as we used every single one of our senses to detect any threat. Down to the first floor, still nothing, the hallway silent and brooding in the muggy gloom of the wan light from outside. We turned past the mailboxes and made our way towards the tiny stamp-sized parking lot nestled against the side of the building.
“It’s way too quiet,” Rachel said, her voice quavering with fear as she hugged the small suitcase to her chest. “Where are those things?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, not pausing for a second in my scan of our surroundings. There, right in front of us, was my car – a used piece-of-shit ten year old sedan that had seen better days. The car sat exactly where I had parked it what seemed like centuries ago, standing silently in the muggy air. “Here are the keys,” I murmured quietly, brandishing Louie in one hand while holding my key ring behind me with the other. As I felt Rachel take them I continued, “Quietly unlock the thing, put the suitcase in the back, and get in. I’ll be a second behind you.”
“What are you doing?” she whispered back as she slipped past me.
“I’ve got an idea,” I replied. With a shrug I added, “Maybe something stupid, I don’t know.”
“D… Don’t take too long,” she replied in a quavering voice.
I raised Louie to my shoulder as I stepped away from the car and crossed the sidewalk. The street was still silent, the shadows around the buildings still menacing, but nothing leapt out at me. Slowly I stepped onto the asphalt, the soles of my flip-flops making the barest of shuffles as I moved forward. My destination was only twenty feet away, beckoning me onward – the dark, silent, abandoned police car.
I knew that, if we were going to make it all the way up to New York City, that we needed a lot more firepower than we had right then. As we made our way to my car something interesting had caught my eye… a cascading piece of blue fabric that sported some odd golden twinkles. If it was what I thought it was, then maybe, for once, our luck might have changed for the better.
I made it to the cruiser without being attacked by anything or anyone, and saw that yes, indeed, my theory was correct. The fabric was the top of a police uniform, still buttoned and still tucked into a flattened pair of gray trousers. The clothing looked as if their wearer had merely vanished from within, his corporeal body whisked off to points unknown – which apparently was what had exactly happened. I paused to take one more look around, and then tucked Louie to my side as I leaned in and grabbed my treasures.
In less than a minute I was back at the sedan. Rachel pushed open the driver’s door and sat back in the passenger seat, hissing “Come on! Come on!!!” The tiny blonde had a panicked, almost terrified look in her eyes as she kept glancing over her shoulder at the shattered window of the crackerbox house.
I slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut with a loud, metallic clunk, and then thumbed the door-lock button. As I secured our mobile home away from home I dropped my treasures into Rachel’s lap. “Here, put these down in at your feet until we can sort them out,” I said as I fumbled with the ignition.
Rachel took a second to stare dumbly at what I had handed her. In her tiny, feminine hands were two things that I knew would come in handy in our travels – a heavy, lethal-looking pistol in matte black and a short, almost stubby shotgun. She was holding in her hands more firepower than I had ever handled before, and from the look on her face I believed that it was the first time she had actually held a gun.
“Just put them down in at your feet carefully,” I said as I took one last look around, and then turned the ignition. “Don’t just drop them down there.” The car engine whur-whur-whured futilely as it turned over but refused to engage on the first try as usual, but I expected that.
“Why?” she said as she gingerly held the pistol between thumb and forefinger as she lowered it between her delicate toes.
“’Cause you don’t want to accidently blow your leg off now, do you?” I responded dryly. Buckle up, adjust the mirrors, check my blind spots…
“C’mon, let’s go,” she whispered even though the widows were rolled up. “We gotta get out of here before any of those things show up!”
Almost as if her words had evoked him, at that moment I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A psycho had finally noticed the activity, although if it was one of the trio from the previous night I wasn’t sure. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow, as he charged the car, and all I caught was greasy black hair and a fountain of dried blood cascading down his bare chest to his rock-hard cock. Rachel screamed and pressed against me as he slammed into the passenger door, his claw-like fingers scratching at the hot metal as he attempted to tear his way in.
“Go go go!” Rachel shrieked as she tried to climb into my lap.
I turned the key and was relieved when my car started instantly. As I threw the lever into reverse the psycho reared back and slammed his forehead against the passenger window with such force that the safety glass starred and showered the inside with a few tiny fragments. I stomped on the accelerator and my car shot backwards, essentially yanking his target from the psycho’s hands. I spun the wheel and stopped, the nose of the car now pointed at the exit, and the psycho turned and charged right at us…
“Later, asshole!” I snarled as I yanked the lever into drive and punched the gas. My sedan shot forward, the left-front bumper catching the psycho squarely in the thighs, and I didn’t slow in the least as he fell backwards and my car ka-THUMP ka-THUMPED! over his prone form. I didn’t look back, didn’t hesitate… I spun the wheel to the left and shot down the road, past the shattered window of the crackerbox house and into the empty intersection, racing down the silent streets like a madman myself as I strove to get us both out of the deathtrap that Richmond had become.
“We did it!” Rachel bounced up and down in the passenger seat of my car as I used the open breakdown lane of the ramp to pull onto the interstate, excited at our escape from the city. In the rearview mirror the dark outline of the buildings cut a jagged view, looking all the world like the razor-sharp teeth of some horrific monster and adding to the feeling of escaping from certain doom. “We’re free, Mikey! We’re free!”
“That’s right, darlin’!” I replied in a fake Southern drawl as I patted her bare knee. “We made it out, and there ain’t nothin’ but open road ahead of us.”
Rachel crinkled her nose. “Don’t try to imitate a Southern boy, sweetie,” she said as she patted my hand. “You just can’t pull it off.”
I slid my fingertip to the inside of her thigh and gave a little tweak, and the tiny blonde half-squealed, half-laughed as I pulled my hand away. “Mouthy little bitch,” I muttered in mock anger.
“You don’t seem to mind some of the stuff I do with my mouth,” she replied saucily.
I glanced over at her as I slowed, crossed the divider, and sped back up, heading north in the southbound lanes. “Getting horny again?” I asked lightly.
Rachel opened her mouth to reply as she stroked me through my baggy jeans, only to have her words cut off by the loud, definitely unfeminine growl of her stomach. “I… I really think that I’d like some food first,” she said as she blushed furiously. “Your stuff is good, but it’s not exactly filling.”
“No problem.” I slowed once more, slalomed between a flipped SUV and a Mercedes that had t-boned the wall, and straightened back out. “We’re on 64 now, and if we keep going another mile we can find a place I know about in Short Pump. We sneak in, get what we need, get out, hit 295 to 95 north, and it’s a straight shot all the way up the east coast.”
“Can we find everything we need there?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied with an easy laugh. “Food, medicine, clothes that actually fit… It’ll be our own little shopping spree.”
“Now that sounds like a plan,” she said excitedly as she snuggled up against my arm. Then her stomach growled again and she sat back. “And I think I’ll just sit here and not do anything else until I get some food in me.”
“Smart plan,” I answered as I patted her knee once more.
“It certainly… looks empty,” Rachel said as she peered out the windshield.
We had made good time along the highway even with the abandoned and wrecked vehicles scattered like a child’s toys along the steaming asphalt, and within a few minutes had pulled into the parking lot of our destination. Short Pump might have been a ‘town’ of sorts, but in all honesty I had never actually taken the time to explore the suburb – indeed, to me it seemed the only draw was the massive box store looming before us. As with everything else in this new world the glass doors were dark and the place had an abandoned feel to it. Several cars were scattered around the parking lot, their doors locked tight and their windows rolled up, each one in their own little space indicating that they had sat there since the Event.
I pushed the seat back a little further to give myself a bit more room as I wrestled with the shotgun in my lap. As I slid the shells into the magazine I half-grimaced, noting the limited number of rounds that I had. “Look around and see if you can spot any of those psychos,” I asked.
Rachel knelt on the warm vinyl seat and looked out the back window, then craned around to look over my shoulder to the left. “I don’t think so,” she replied. “I think we’re safe.”
“Well, let’s not take any chances.” I pulled the latch and clambered out of the car, racking the shotgun as I did so. I paused and scanned in every direction, my senses heightened for any threat whatsoever, but other than the rustling of leaves in the stunted, sickly-looking trees around the edge of the parking lot there was no movement. “Okay, I think it’s safe,” I finally said.
Rachel leaned over and handed me the pistol, which I tucked into the small of my back after confirming that the safety was definitely flipped, and then clambered out behind me. “Are you sure you don’t want this thing?” I asked, indicating the pistol with my elbow.
“Nah, I wouldn’t even know how to use it,” she said with a small smile. Her smile grew a bit more feral as she added, “Besides, I’ve got something better.” With a tiny little flourish she reached into the small of her back and pulled out a large, sharp butcher’s knife as long as her forearm.
“Jesus!” I said as I stared at the blade in her tiny hand. “Where the hell did you get that thing?”
“I snagged it when we left the apartment,” she said as she waggled it in front of her. “It’s yours. Any psycho who tries to take another bite out of me is gonna get a nasty surprise.”
“Yeah, well, he isn’t the only one,” I muttered as I quietly shut the car door. “Just try not to cut yourself.”
We fell silent as we padded around a monstrous candy-apple red Hummer and across the short distance to the doors, our flip-flops scuffing quietly on the scorching-hot asphalt beneath us. Up close the store had an even greater air of abandon-ness – through the dark glass we could see the vague outline of shelves, standing fully laden and silent, both them and their contents barely visible in the wan light filtering through the cloudy skylights within. To the left sat a pair of moldering clothes-piles, the undisturbed cloth testament to two more victims of the Event.
“Okay, this is how we do it,” I said quietly to my tiny companion as I held the shotgun up. “We pry open one of the doors and get in. You grab a shopping basket and we’ll sneak through the store to get what we need. I’ll be right beside you with this thing, ready to take care of any problems. We do it quiet and fast, and then we’re right back on the road. Deal?”
“Deal.” Rachel’s stomach groaned once more, and she got a pained look on her face. “Although I do reserve the right to have some samples as we go.”
I smiled a tight smile, a corner of my mouth quirked up in amusement at her defiant claim. “As long as you share, I have no problem,” I replied as I noted my own hunger.
The doors slid easily open with just a little effort even without power, and within seconds we were standing inside the entrance to the store. The atmosphere inside was heavy and oppressive, smelling of rot and dust and uncirculated air, a thick miasma that almost burned our nostrils. A quick glance told us where the rot was coming from – the large wooden racks that once overflowed with fresh fruits and vegetables were now home to some quickly spreading mold colonies, and the lack of power meant that the refrigerators had allowed their contents to spoil days ago. We strained to hear any signs of life in the store but heard nothing, and once reassured we proceeded on our task.
It seemed that Rachel had not only inherited the physique of a child in her transformation – evidently, she had also inherited the shopping ability of a child as well. As we moved quietly down the cookie and cracker aisle she avoided the pseudo-healthy choices in favor of extra-sugared, preservative-laden fare. “That stuff will rot your teeth,” I remarked quietly as she cracked open a box of snack cakes, tore open the cellophane wrapper, and crammed one into her mouth.
“Fuck off, I’m hungry!” she shot back, her easy words muffled by the chocolate sponge cake and cream filling wad in her mouth. “Besides, we’ve both been burning a lot of calories together during our playtimes.” She swallowed, quickly bolted a second, and then unwrapped a third. “Open,” she ordered.
I allowed her to cram the snack into my mouth, and I do have to admit that it tasted glorious after our rather meager rations of the past few days. “You’ve got some chocolate on your lips,” I noted as I chewed and swallowed.
Rachel tossed two packs of cookies into the basket and grinned saucily. “When we get back to the car I’ll let you lick it off,” she whispered as she thrust a slim hip in my direction.
“Cocktease,” I muttered as I turned my attention back to the aisles.
We moved slowly through the snack aisle and made our way towards the breads, with Rachel insisting on sampling everything as she went and tossing me the occasional bit. As for me, my stomach quieted somewhat, although I was concerned about the sheer amount of empty calories I was ingesting. “After this, we’ll hit up the clothing section,” I said quietly as she crammed a handful of peanut butter into her mouth with her fingers. “Although I have no idea what sizes to get.”
“You’re a twenty-six inch waist and thirty inch inseam,” she said without missing a beat or even looking at me as two jars of peanut butter ‘fell’ into the basket. “Shirt-wise, probably either a boy’s large or a men’s small. Shoes, you’re a ten-wide.” I stared at her, my mouth agape at her confident response, and she grinned. “Amateur seamstress, remember?”
“Christ, you’re a witch,” I replied as I turned into the next aisle.
My attention was focused on my lover and her supernatural clothing abilities, and we had been in the store for over ten minutes without encountering any psychos. I had relaxed – and that was the only reason that I wasn’t aware of the threat until I literally ran face-first into it. As I whipped around the aisle I body-checked a tiny figure, a girl shorter than Rachel, who sprawled to the warm tile floor at my feet with a squeal of shock as I staggered back a few steps. In the few seconds I had I noticed that she was Asian, with long, flowing jet-black hair that cascaded down her back and brown eyes that goggled up at me in terror as the contents of her tiny pink vinyl backpack scattered on the floor. Instantly my attention fell on her companion, an even shorter redhead dressed in baggy, oversized camouflage fatigues whose brilliant green eyes started to narrow. I heard Rachel squeak in surprise as she stepped beside me, and the four of us stared at each other as seconds ticked by, unsure of what to do next.
>>Chapter 4>>