Survivor - TG

They clambered through the street, bodies moving slowly, the scent of decay rising from their flesh; decay smelled like perfume.

 Their skin was unblemished, untarnished by even the smallest of callouses. The sun shone from it like overwaxed plastic, glittering off every centimeter of flesh that managed to poke through the oversized and tattered clothes.

Without pants, and in baggy underwear, they made their way across the streets, their nipples bouncing occasionally out of a slit, and wiggling in the air as they stiffened. Their hair flouncing around their curved bottoms, their lips curling into a perfect smile to reveal their glimmering teeth.

The zombies were putting on a pretty good show, from where Dawn was sitting. Up on top of his fortress, he was safe from their attacks; below his feet was a building that had been built to hold food for years. It was as good a life as could be expected in a Fallen world. It had been a good life, under the zombie queen’s reign. Dawn raised a bottle to that, tipped it once in the direction of the distant rooftops, and then drained it; the sparkling apple juice fizzled a little on his tongue, but he was glad for the drink. Something sweet.

“We used to do that together every day, you know; me and The Other Guy. The last known survivors; I think he may have been drinking something a little stronger, though.”

There was no response from the figure behind him, and Dawn didn’t bother to turn back. He tipped the drink again, and drank from it, chugging half the bottle before letting himself come up for air. “I watched your fight yesterday; or was it a different one? You all look the same from a difference; but you didn’t move like the others. You were faster. Smarter, maybe – you ducked his punches; and you didn’t keep him with you when he changed. You tossed him off the building for the girls below.”

“That was an accident.”

Dawn shrugged. “Didn’t know him that well anyhow.” He took a long sip, leaving a little bit left, and licked a few drops of it from the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know him at all, actually…”

“He’s alive,” the voice promised him. “They caught him, but he’s alive. And he’s mine.”

 “Glad for you. Like I said, I didn’t know him. Just a daily wave on the rooftop. But…” He drained the last drop from his bottle. “…He was about all I had.” He spun before she had time react, spinning the empty bottle at her head. She bent backwards, the bottle passing over her head, and came forward again. He stumbled forward, ducking the first blow, and trying to bring the bottle up again, but it was too late. Already inside the space between him and his makeshift weapon, she put two hands out, catching his free arm, and digging the other one at his chest. A stray strand of blond hair stung his cheek as their motion stilled.

“How long?” he questioned. Her fingernails were digging into his cloth, finding skin.  She tore sleeve down, and shifted her grip enough to touch his bare arm.

“Another five seconds,” she told him. “You can try hitting me again.”

Dawn pulled back, towards the edge of the roof, sneakers pressing against the asphalt. She dug her fingers in and spun him about, throwing him against the roof entrance. The impact drove the oxygen from his lungs, and the power from his escape attempt, his legs turning to jelly as he slid down to the ground.

“Last moment,” she warned him. Her victim just looked at her, allowing his gaze to settle on her breasts; they were nice breasts. Completely covered, unlike most of the zombie’s he’d seen. “Will I still be able to think?” he questioned. “Like you? Or am I just going to be one of the hive”

“Time’s up.”

His chest felt warm. It pulsed inside of him, spreading out through his limbs, gaining heat. He touched a finger to his flesh, feeling the suppleness and sensitivity of the flesh building up beneath his nipples, wiggling the nipple up and down until full breasts formed beneath his hands. Rubbing fingers across his arms and legs, he could feel them slowly thinning down, becoming more shapely; his legs were contracting beneath his very fingers, the skin tightening as the heat became almost molten, matched by his very fingers as they became more slender.

As Dawn shifted, his bottom began to flex, growing out a little to match his breasts and help him stand, his squeezing thighs slowly working his masculine groin into nonexistence, massaging the flesh out from existence. He touched a finger against his breast, and pushed his other hand through his hair, feeling the long tresses bounce about as the red strands moved down to his waist. His head burned with heat, his body movements becoming more natural as he moved towards the girl, the idea of womanhood slowly emblazoning itself into her mind.

Other than that, she didn’t feel much different.

The woman in front of him smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to the real resistence.”