Living Amongst The Dead (Book 2): Dark Days

by J. N. Morgan

  Checking her night stand, ignoring the pink dildo, the sight of the false penis wrinkling her fine nose, she pulled out a box of condoms that was unopened and rather close to expiration by the looks of it. Sure, straight people like those, right? Tossed in the bag, maybe she’ll see the insanity of trying to get pregnant at this time and use them. Who knows what diseases that lumberjack looking hairy motherfucker could have… anyways, after rummaging around a bit more, nothing of note could be found and so the bedrooms were left alone. Hopefully they were well stocked on toilet paper at that house, though there was plenty in the storage room here, these trips back and forth were rather dangerous.

  Upstairs, looking out from the safe windows up there that were far out of reach for any zombie as long as Spiderman didn’t become a legion of the damned, she checked the cupboards. Ehhh, if the guy is a drinker then he’d better be so fucking pleased with her that he’d be ready to get on his knees and suck the cock she didn’t have. A bottle of each; whiskey (in this case Canadian Club, unopened), vodka (Red Tassel, 3/4 left), and rum (Kraken, unopened), all of which were 750ml (26oz) bottles. Her backpack wasn’t going to fit all this shit… the girls barely ever drank, like, ever. One time they tried the vodka, only had water to mix it with, got enough to get buzzed, was content, didn’t like the taste, and so never bothered with it again. There was more bottles of each since they figured they would be valuable for trade, but they never did end up finding people to trade with.

  Since Tiffy mentioned that their only can opener in that house was a useless electric one, she grabbed her own. Along with that was placed two cans of Campbell’s Chunky Beef Stew on the counter, three cans of beans, a can of SPAM, a can of chicken which was the type that the ladies typically made sandwiches with using mayo and sometimes hotsauce though only the hotsauce was presently available. Frank’s and Tobasco. Anything else?... nah, that’s about it for the food that Nick had scavenged in the days that her roommate had disappeared. Now… painkillers… that big ugly bastard is going to want some of those.

  Popping into the washroom she tossed a bottle of Extra Strength Aspirin into her bag, a bottle of rubbing alcohol she found under the bathroom sink of one person’s home, the mouthwash wasn’t of any real significance, some prescription antibiotics she had when she got her wisdom teeth out… three years ago was it? Should still be good, she figured… uhhh… nope, that’s all she could really find. So that’s medicine, ammo, batteries, a couple books, condoms, and some of the food fit but the backpack was stuffed! Under the sink she grabbed a couple plastic shopping bags, double bagged them and put three of the bottles of booze in. It was cutting into her fingers, it would make for an even more uncomfortable trip back, whenever the Hell it was she could make that since she was presently surrounded by the dead.

  A couple more double-bagged shopping bags were utilized, and she was all set to bring this bounty to the house. If they didn’t accept her after this… well… fuck them. What more could she possibly do?! Start singing and dancing?! The mere thought of them sticking their noses up and saying she still wasn’t welcome was disgusting to say the least, as she brought the bags down to the front door, laying them next to it since the sounds of the corpses outside made it very clear she wasn’t leaving yet. What could she do if they still denied her the chance to live with them… what if they kept this stuff she was bringing! She knew it wouldn’t happen, Tiff was far too sweet for that, but still… the imagination can prove fun. Babushka was a strong woman but knew that the thinner, quicker, stronger, and uninjured woman that now sat at the bottom of the steps heading up to the top floor could take her with ease.

  The man? Just step on his neck for a while and he’ll soon be even more useless than he already was, then use the rifle propped up by the bookshelf to make sure he doesn’t get up. If Tiff makes a break for it she can be outrun with ease. Drag her back, kicking and screaming if she must, and if she proved too disagreeable then a smack with the butt of that big Lee Enfield will do the trick. Get her in bed, tie her down… and then… FUN! Let her scream if she wants, let her cry, but she would be hers. It was an incredibly arousing thought, enough to make the young woman consider taking her love egg out from the bottom of the backpack, but had to keep an ear out in case something attracts the bastard’s attention outside to take them away from her, but it was unlikely. Still, best be wary.

  Anyways, she knew that was just a fantasy, it would never happen. She’ll be grateful, even if that pitiful sack of shit laying on the floor didn’t like it. She would be accepted. Then… maybe she’ll get so pent up at the lack of cock that more flirting, more subtle cuddling, more sweet words and gifts, could perhaps bring her around. Bring her to the other side of the fence, to give a woman a try. A beautiful, slim, strong, toned, independent woman. Not that fat, hairy, disgusting slob who’s barely hanging on to his meager existence… pathetic. The thought of his pained screaming returned to her though and sent a chill down her spine, then that look of disgust and hatred came to mind from the one who tried to keep him alive. She now had to do terrible things just to try and keep him going, and knew she would continue to do them, too, until he either survives, or dies from infection or blood loss or who knows what. She didn’t truly regret shooting him, just that he was still alive and though Tiff was happy she still had him, Nick hated what she had to do to keep him that way. Finishing him off wasn’t in the cards; her friend would be livid, would never want to even look at her again, so perhaps he’ll recover, and make himself useful by teaching Veronica what she wanted to know.

  The minutes ticked by, various fantasies going through her mind, thoughts, memories of women in the past, schemes of maybe heading west to try and get to BC where the best pot in Canada if not North America could be found. Maybe try heading south where she might be able to get her hands on an AK or something fun like that instead of the bolt actions and semi autos that she was restricted to up here, not to mention the magazine restrictions that non-manually-operated and non-rimfire firearms were stuck with. Maybe she could find a horse in one of the Western States of the US, and visions of being a cowgirl came into mind, finding damsels in distress, taking down their male captors with her six-shooters, and so the damsels would be unable to resist the strong femininity that had saved them. An earnest smile came to the dark woman’s face as she left the bags by the door and went upstairs to look out the window in the kitchen.

  God did she want some pussy… why did things have to go that way with fire-crotch? Couldn’t even remember her name now. They shared some supplies, got stoned, had a few drinks, laughed, Nick flirted, but her advances were only seen as comical by the redhead she so desired. She laughed, snorted as she giggled, it made the black woman angry. This dominant lesbian was every bit as strong as a slim man her size, probably quicker on her feet. She was smooth, clean, adamant about keeping shaved with the electric razor that she kept in a jean pocket, and pleasing women? Soooo much experience in that field, nothing drove her more wild than the sight of a fellow female, eyes closed, back arched, breathing heavily, becoming beaded in feminine sweat, shaking with pleasure, and all from either her mouth, her hands, or via tribadism with her own pussy; scissoring.

  “Speak of the Devil…” she whispered to herself, brown eyes widening down to the left, coming along an alleyway. Pale skin; still fair due to the corpse being fresh, and that Heavenly red hair falling down her back and puffy between her legs. Utterly nude, the only imperfection on her adorably freckled skin was the bruising around her neck. She was 17, which happened to still be within the legal age of consent in Canada which was 16. When the flirting hadn’t gone well, when she became more forward and the teenager began to resist, she was slapped, which resulted in a scream. A gag was made out of a sock, rammed into her mouth. Wrists grabbed, and in her strong grasp, the two wrists were locked in just one hand above her head. Muffled screams and sobbing from the scared girl. She was not a virgin, but that was due to a boyfriend she had before the infection; never did she have
any interest in girls!

  Her jeans were loosened, the woman above her hastily telling her “Shh-shh-shh-shh, I’m gonna make you feel better than any boy ever could, baby. I’m gonna make you my girl, and we’re going to have such fun that you’ll never even think of a dick again.” The response was eyes streaming tears, a body trying to squirm its way from her grasp though utterly unsuccessfully, and an audible moan came from the lesbian upon seeing her precious little pubescent bush. Absolutely precious, and she’d have dove right down to taste the pussy underneath, to bury her dark little nose into that holy flaming bush, but that might allow her to get her wrists from her hand. Instead, she was rubbed, savagely, quickly, watching the girl writhe beneath her.

  Squeals began to ring out from her muffled voice and the dead were being heard outside the small house with high windows that she found her in. It wasn’t long until she was shivering in forced orgasm, writhing, moistening the black hand between her legs intensely. “Yeah baby, yeahhh, that’s it, cum… cum for your master… my little white angel, cum for me!” Weak sobs came from the girl, head limply turning left and right, just wishing she were anywhere else but there. She couldn’t resist any longer and with the strong grip on her wrists, Nick pulled them down as she slithered along her small, young body. Between impossibly pale thighs the woman buried her face in her snatch.

  The orchestra could practically be heard in her mind. Organs, the soft and religious singing of the choir as she lapped up the youthful and feminine juices between the girl’s second set of lips, licking, suckling the clit, even taking some of her pubes into her mouth and nibbling on them, smelling the girlish scent within, tasting her and then sliiiiding her tongue up the length of girlhood from bottom to top, and finally going back down and sticking her tongue within her entrance. She spun the long appendage in her mouth around, mixing her up, and her sobs and cries were being muffled by the choir who seemed to be getting louder and louder in her head.

  Moans began to get mixed up in the muffled cries in the background, but it was obvious that those moans were not wanted by the girl, and the thighs pressing against either side of her head were evidence by the desire to be released from this unwanted sensation. Unbeknownst to the teen, the feeling of those soft little thighs on Nicky’s head only made her feel comforted, feel warm, feel she was in the right place, and in her mind the thigh-squeezing was from incredible pleasure. The organ’s deep music was growing louder as the muffled breathing became more ragged; her little body writhed more violently in the pleasure she did not consent to.

  Many of the Christians in the audience of this church in her mind, all of whom were women, started to stand up. Women standing side by side in replace of the typical husbands and wives that would be seen next to each other. Some of the daughters they had were wearing pretty dresses, while others, the tomboys in place of the boys, were wearing more boyish clothing, some even blatantly chewing bubblegum. Teenagers, some emo, some goth, obviously there because they were forced to come. A ditzy girl, just looking around, playing with her hair, making no effort to hide the gum being chewed in her gaping mouth.

  Those that stood however, they joined the choir even more energetically, the volume rose to astounding heights as the lithe body beneath her was racked with more pleasure, the oncoming of the second orgasm arriving so quickly that it was almost a continuation of the first. They were dancing now, the female priest came into view from somewhere at an unknown part of the front of the church, wearing some sort of holy cloth over her shoulders and nothing else. It was her, Veronica, and her body danced to the rhythm, enlivening it if anything, faster and faster as she gave herself to it, now dancing down the hall between the pews. She was rising, some force gravitating her off the ground as she made her wild dance.

  Sweat was dripping down her in the memory of taking this precious girl, of the fantasy she was recalling that she had at the time with the church, and now that teen’s cold, weak body stumbled unknowingly towards the horde that was after the very woman who had raped and strangled her so recently. The priest, her, with her almost flailed but beautifully rhythmic dancing reaching its peak, her mouth flew open to join the choir of Christian singers who had just started a window-shattering tone in glorious celebration. That unbelievably loud note was dwarfed by the ear-splitting screech that seemed to come from the levitating Nick’s priestly mouth as she soared above the people in the high ceiling of God’s house.

  The girl had managed to spit the sock out of her mouth and was wailing uncontrollably, wrists sore, hands turning colour from the tightness, body wracked with pleasure so intense that it frightened her and knowing the danger that too much noise could make, the hand released her wrists and took her by the throat. Only one hand at first, the other busy with her own pants, it was her turn for pleasure now! Forcing a leg between the white girl’s tight ones, she humped her hips forth, one leg beneath and one leg above, and grinded her cunt against the pale one beneath her. Both hands were at the throat now. Gagging, face turning red.

  “Ooo yeah, mmm, shhh-shh-shh, just take it… just take it, my angel. Take that hot wet pussy and I’ll take yours. You’re so precious… so fucking precious… why can’t you be quiet for me? Why can’t you obey your new master?” The pressure was released on the little throat, the scream returned, and when it was cut off by the pressure returning the moans of the dead could be heard outside coupled with those coming from Nick herself. The face was beginning to turn another colour now, almost bluish, but it went unseen; Veronica had closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure, the wetness, the sharing of succulent juices, it was around this point that she’d love to bring her hand between them, coat it in each other’s natural lubrication and lick it from her hand as they grinded against each other but it was only her grinding against the teen with no reciprocation. To release too much pressure from the throat could bring on the scream again which would mean danger.

  The pressure only tightened as orgasm was approaching the woman, who’s face, straight from the pleasure, was smiling as the climax was nearing. “Yes…. YES!... oh my baby… oh you hot little… MINX! I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna CUM! YES!... YEEEES!... AHHHHHH!” That strong African body, still sadly covered from the waist up, shuddered. Between her shaved crotch and the unshaved, small, pale one before her was a little bush, now wet and slick, the hairs stuck on both their pubic areas at this point. There was no more writhing, no more struggles, and opening her eyes she seen the wide open and panicked ones that stared up at her. A look of disappointment came to the dark features of her rapist.

  “Oh… damn… you poor thing, I sort of lost myself there, didn’t I?...” the hands came away from the throat, letting the head lull limply to the side and now those murderous hands caressed her soft cheeks, still warm. Leaning down, a kiss was planted on those breathless lips, a kiss that of course was not reciprocated; a gesture closed those horrified dead eyes. Hands pulled her white t-shirt with the cartoon characters on the front up and off of her, the C-cup bra removed, and the pink nipples on utterly naturally pale flesh suckled, still warm, and the kissing moved down her dangerously thin stomach to her crotch, where the combined feminine juices were lapped, slurped, and greedily tasted and drank.

  Leaving the unfortunate girl there, Nicky grabbed her clothes, feeling utterly refreshed and reinvigorated, took whatever useful items she could find in the modest home and jumped out a window roughly 4 or 5 feet off the ground, nimbly landing on the grass between the neighbouring houses then ran before more of the undead who heard the screams and moans could arrive.

  Now here she was, stumbling along, just showing up where she heard the moans of the dead to join them, not knowing that what had attracted these people was the one who raped and murdered her. Just the sight of her made Veronica wriggle where she stood, thighs rubbing together, heat building, seeing that thin body, helpless, so pale, freckles, red hair, young… she was almost the embodiment of everything she looked for in a partner. If there was a way t
o snap her fingers, bring the corpse inside, cure her, and make her obey her master’s every whim… she’d do it in a heartbeat, and the first order of business would be to lick out the hot, tight, dark cunt that now steadily grew wetter.

  She felt bad for what she did, because now, she could never enjoy her again. The likelihood of finding another like her was… astronomical. It couldn’t be helped; she ran her way downstairs, grabbed the heavy backpack on the way, lifting it with ease, sprinted down to her room and leapt on her bed, the bag already unzipped and being reached into. Every detail ran through her mind again and again, the most frequent one being the taste, the look of those perky breasts, similar shape as her own but a little bigger, which she preferred. Women with smaller breasts than her’s were not desirable; she wanted bigger ones, even if it was only a size or two bigger. The egg buzzed, and biting her pillow, she muffled her moans as she replayed that sensation of grinding her pussy into that fire-crotch over and over in her mind. It didn’t take long to lose count of how many times she had gotten off, and those legs, that pussy, was spotted stumbling their way by her window. Then just when she wanted to stop, she started again, watching it until it moved out of view, then closing her eyes in an attempt to lock it in her mind’s eyes. One last intense orgasm, and she lay exhausted, the light outside diminishing as the Sun lowered.

  Hunger raked her, and so the can of chicken was chosen for her snack before sleeping, though wishing she had some water to go with it.