Finding a Girlfriend in the Zombie Apocalypse 2.

[Nickamano]

"The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules. " (Rule 2.b.iii) This story is purely fictional. Any similarity to real people and situations is purely coincidental.

Content Warnings: This story features a mix of non-consensual and consensual scenes.
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A first time publication of the sequel to "Finding a Girlfriend in the Zombie Apocalypse".
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Ex-Girlfriend's Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter 1


The scavengers were all around Emily, dragging her, still caught in the net, across the stone and concrete of the harbour floor. The sky was nearly black with thunder clouds and already the rain was pelting down. It was strangely silent, just the men's heavy, laboured breathing and the scrape of Emily across the ground.
There were men all around and zombies too but they seemed to be ignoring each other, as she was dragged and rolled to where they wanted her, the hard ground chafing, scuffing and scraping her skin. Then the net was gone and she was standing in a circle of huge, horny men, all seemed to be twice her five-foot-two height, all hugely muscled, thick, straggly beards and thick, unkempt hair. All of them looked the same, matted and unwashed and scruffy and so horny she could smell it on them, suffusing the air.
They came at her, the circle constricting around her, at once hands grabbed at her, ripped at her, molested her, tore her clothing until it fell away. The rain slapped at her soft, naked skin and she wept and shivered, trying to cover her breasts and pubic mound with quivering hands.
They laughed at her fear, grinning horny grins at her nakedness. Her tears were invisible in the heavy rain but her expression said all it needed to.

Two of them pressed in even closer to Emily. One sliding in behind her, his hands grasped her waist, pulling her against him. His hard, hot crotch pressing up against her exposed, underwear free bottom. The other also pressed in, though from the side of her, reached around and slid a hand beneath hers through the soft patch of her lush, deep brown pubic hair.
She tried to turn, tried to get their hands off her nakedness, but a third stepped in to the other side of her so close she smelled his rank sweat, his foul breath, his greasy, oily hair. They all smelled the same. She found herself trapped in a triangle of big, mature, lust driven, overripe male bodies. This third horny scavenger grabbed her head, fist clenched tight in her bobbed mahogany hair and yanked at it, turning her face toward his before quickly forcing his mouth hard onto hers. She gasped a shocked, breathy gasp that was abruptly stifled as the man pushed his tongue into her aghast mouth. His dry, hot lips mashed on hers in a dirty, horny kiss that Emily didn't have time to reject or pull away from.

And then, taking cue from the initial trio, more men pressed in around her and Emily whimpered in panic, shivering at the feel of more hands shoving roughly against her, pressing into her pert young flesh. She felt a multitude of hands on her, fingers stroking, gripping, squeezing, pinching. Hands pushed hard against her smooth flesh, fondling between her pale, pert arse cheeks. Between her plump thighs, she felt fingers levering upward and inward and, though unable to react - her pleas and protests kiss-silenced - she felt her hot young vagina splayed and penetrated by at least four fingers.
Other hands having spread her generous, though pert buttocks wide, probed inward feeling along the warm, smooth cleft for the puckered rosebud of her arse hole, and she squealed abruptly into the man's open mouth as three or more fingers were shoved up her anus.

The forceful kisser grabbed her wrists and lifted them up away from her groin. And then his free hand pushed inward, his fingers questing downward through her soft mound toward her clitoris and he started to rub her hidden bud with horny, uncompromising vigour.
Other less busy hands snatched hold of the firm, B-cup orbs of Emily's nubile breasts, nipples already erected by cold wind and icy terror. Fingers and palms mashed against the soft, goose bumped flesh, harshly mauling and tweaking her nipples, pulling and twisting them to further hardness and squeezing and kneading at her meagre bosom. All the while, shivering with redundant horror and panic, Emily quivered. The small young woman the filling in a big, lust filled, malodorous sandwich.
She moaned muffled objections, tried to beg around the fat invasive tongue that was lapping at her uvula and completely filling her mouth as, in vain, she struggled and cried between them. She tried to twist and pull free of them, but they were a solid wall around her, tight, constricting, immovable.
The weight of the hands started to pull her down to the cold hard ground, and there was nothing she could do about it. She wept and tried to struggle but soon felt the ground underneath her back and the men fell on her.

Emily was lifted up off the floor, flipped over onto her front as someone shoved their way under her and then she was pulled back down, her legs grasped and splayed wide. Hands on her back pinned her in place, even as she struggled against them. Her hair was grabbed and pulled, forcing her head back and up. While hands, so many hands, were between her buttocks, and all over her buttocks, clamping down hard, squeezing, molesting. Multiple fingers were inside her pussy and up her ass. More hands latched onto her breasts, her nipples pinched, pulled, rolled.

There were gaps between the masses of naked, hairy, male flesh, enough for Emily to see around her in second long snippets. She saw zombies standing around. Many of them watching the orgy starting up in earnest. She could see more and more of the undead standing around watching and then she noticed someone who looked familiar. But it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. They had left him miles away. Dean.

The men around her were getting down to it now. She could feel hot shafts of hard flesh against her nakedness, she caught glimpses of exposed erections moving around in her peripheral vision, her panicked feelings burgeoned but she knew she could do nothing. They started talking to each other, discussing her as if she was a piece of meat.

"Ha ha! Nice and ripe! I'm first! I get her cunt!"
"Fine by me!"
"Fill her throat up Connor, cut that noise down a bit when she starts a-hollerin'!"
"Fuck that Angus, I wanna hear her racket when I'm taking her in her shitter!"

"No! No! Get off! Please don't!" Emily squealed in absolute and unbridled panic when she heard what she had already suspected was about to be done to her.

The men didn't listen, didn't even acknowledge that she had a voice, or an opinion. To them she was just three holes and a pair of tits. There to slake their lusts.

Another familiar zombie moved through her viewpoint, just for a second before it was blocked out by a naked hairy groin and the large jutting erection that sprouted from it. That zombie had looked like Jay.
And then large erections were moved into position and Emily started to wail and struggle from within the tightly packed crowd of horny men.
She felt the hot hardness of an erect cock bump against her inner thigh. Hurtful, probing fingers left the soft tunnel of her pussy and the hot, hard shaft took their place, jabbing against her pinch-swollen vulva.
She tensed up, cringing, gritting her teeth, feeling her hot tears running down her cold, rain-slick face. And then the cock stabbed upwards, pierced her, drove in deep, until hard male hips jammed against her inner thighs. The internal mashing of flesh on flesh burned and her inner walls spasmed uncontrollably against the unwanted invader.

"Please, it hurts! Don't no! No! No! Noooooooo!"

She heard the groan of satisfaction and pleasure and then the thrusting started, the hard cock hammering in and out with speed and rage-fuelled power.

"Ahh! Ahn! Ahn!! Ahhn! Ahhh! Aahhh! Aahhhh! Aaahhhh!!"

Another zombie caught her tear-blurred eye. Another impossibility. As Impossible as it had been for her to see her Dean moments before. This third familiar walking corpse was Tim, her first boyfriend. The one who had taken her virginity. Who had introduced her to the pleasures of being spanked. The loser who had demanded daily blowjobs from her, even while he was cheating on her with at least two other girls. Tim, who had taken her up the arse for the very first, and very painful, time. Tim, who had dumped her for some middle class rich gym-toned cougar. She had hated that lad. For all the things he had got her to do for him even as he, unbeknownst to her, was mistreating her day in day out.

Again, it was a scavenger cock that brought her back to the present. A second shaft, the big, hot and heavy weight of the fat crown pressing against her tiny sphincter mouth, multiple pairs of hands squeezing, digging into her arse cheeks, spreading them, fingertips prodding at her clenched entrance. Then there came a loud disgusting hawking sound and then cold, slimy spittle splattered against her twitching tense anal mouth and then the pressure started and Emily squealed in renewed hysteria.

"Oh God, no! No! Don't!" She stuttered, already pained by the ongoing rape. "I'm begging you! Please... Pleeeaase! NOO! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

The shaft pressed hard against her and it was barely a second before it penetrated her anal tunnel, forcing the tight muscles, spasming painfully as they tried to reject the wrong-way access to allow the fat, solid shaft in. He kept on pushing, forcing inch after inch into her rectum, until his hips jarred against her smooth, soft bottom, his turgid cock buried up to the hilt.
Emily wanted to scream out her anguish, her horror and her sense of defeat, but before she could a third cock was jammed between her lips, slid across her tongue and forced onward, right down her throat. And that was her defeated.

It occurred to her that Dean and Tim might help her. They had loved her in their own way. Jay too, obviously, she had no doubt he would help her, but maybe all three of them...? Maybe they would want to help her, even of they were already dead. Maybe there was enough of the men they had been still inside those walking corpse shells to remember how they had felt about her in life.
She would fuck them if that was what it took. Whatever was necessary. At least she knew she could control them, unlike these animals who had her now. Those three at least had feelings for her, respected her. Though undead, she believed that they would happily fuck her but they wouldn't eat her or make her one of them, their residual feelings would make sure of that.
Even after Tim had dumped her, he had still come back for sex, or to have his dick sucked, when she had offered. When she had begged him. When she had believed she wouldn't be able to live without him, when she had been that desperate and foolish. For weeks she had sucked the spunk out of his balls, swallowed every load, took it up the arse too whenever he said he wanted it. Even had a threesome with the cougar one time, always hoping blindly that he would remember that he still loved her and come back. Of course she had been kidding herself.
But this, this was life or death. This was sexual slavery for the last few short years or months, or weeks, of her life. Dean and Jay were foregone conclusions, she knew she could count on them. And even Tim, if she promised to let him do what he wanted to her, surely she'd be able to count on him too. To rescue her from this gang-rape hell. He had to.
All three of them had always lusted after her, for as long as she had known them and she could promise them that, if they helped her, as much of it as they could handle. Zombies wouldn't have the energy for fast, hard constant fucking. As disgusting as she was certain it would be with them, it had to be a thousand time better than the kind of treatment these scavengers would show her in the last few short weeks of her life.

Her mind made up, she had only one obstacle remaining. There was no way she could get their attention or call for their help while she had this vile cock stuffed in deep and thrusting violently down her throat. She needed to get the bastard to shoot his load as fast as she could, so he'd pull out of her mouth and give her the chance she needed, for her gallant zombie knights to come to her aid. She needed to actively suck him off, make him empty his balls fast. No matter what.

So, she started to gobble on the hot meat filling her mouth and stretching her jaw, opening her throat as he slammed forward, easing his entry and then sucking hard as he pulled back. Hearing his exalted response, she garnered encouragement and pushed on with her reciprocating. She only wished she could get a hand to his balls, but both her fists had been appropriated into grasping hold of another two cocks. She couldn't toss the shafts off as she had neither the room nor the ability but she was made to keep a tight grip while the men thrust vigorously back and forth in and out of her small fists. She could feel others using the backs of her knees and even one armpit as another place to shove a cock and use her body as a masturbatory sleeve. It disgusted her but there was nothing she could do, so instead she focussed on the cock stretching her lips, imagining it was Dean's, deep throating it, stroking at it with her quick and agile tongue, humming around it when it went in deep. And all the other little tricks she had either been taught or figured out for herself over the years.
It worked pretty well and in a few short minutes and a hard throat fucking, she felt her oral rapist's hands clenching painfully in her hair. Groaning, he slammed home again and again, quickening his pace, his thrusts flurrying and frantic until he shot his load abruptly.

"Oh fuck! Ohhh Fuuck!! That's fucking good! She's good lads! Knows how! Swallow it all down whore! AHHHH! SWALLOW IT! YEEEAAAHHH!" He groaned as he spurted a large mouthful of hot, salty spunk right down Emily's rapidly gulping throat.

After the first spurt he pulled back until only the swollen, ruddy crown was still between her lips and he pumped the rest of his thick seed into her mouth and over her flicking tongue in long animated streams. Emily whipped her tongue around the crown and the little splayed mouth of his climaxing cock head, showering her mouth and directing the spunk all over, tasting and swallowing while she teased and caressed his crown, suckling at it while her tongue frolicked all over the hot purple knob.

Finally he withdrew and stumbled back, someone else was already pushing forward to claim her mouth, but the two men accidentally got in each other's way and Emily found, for a moment or two, she she had an unfettered view of the surrounding zombies, of Jay and Tim and Dean. She screamed over to them.

"Tim! Help me!"
Tim was the closest and already facing her way, looking at her with dead, black eyes. "I'll do whatever you want. Just like always! Just help me!"

She spotted Dean to her left and wailed out his name.

"Dean, love! I love you and I know you love me, help me! I'll stay with you! Like we always said we'd be together! But help me, Dean! I love you!" He turned in her direction, his eyes locking on hers too.

She managed to get a half sentence out to Jay as well even though she didn't see him, she knew he was near by.

"Jay I know you love me! Save me from this and I'll fuck you whenever you like. I'll stay with you, just help me, plea... Urkkk!"

The second cock to push into her mouth and drive its way down her tight throat was bigger than the last and she gagged painfully on it, choking on her own saliva. Of course, that didn't bother the next rapist in line. He grabbed her under the chin and around the back of her head and humped her face as though it was going to be his last action on Earth. Emily endured the wide, firm rim of his phallic crown working like a plunger, scooping out the overflow of saliva on the out stroke and she slackened the seal of her lips around the thick shaft to allow the saliva to drool out of her lips and down her chin, to splatter the rain darkened stone she had been forced down upon. Rivulets ran down her shuddering breasts, warming the cool goosebumped flesh. How none of it dripped onto the face of the rapist under her she had no idea, or cared.

It took an age for anything to happen and Emily could do nothing except take the triple rape and bide her time, silently hoping and preying that the pleas to her three zombie lovers would be heeded. Meanwhile, she was rocked between the three hard thrusting bodies, slammed this way and that and molested all over by a score of other horny naked men. If her undead lovers didn't help, she would be tortured like this for hours without respite. She was already shell-shocked and exhausted and barely able to comprehend what was happening to her.
She felt a horrible constricting sense of claustrophobia as the men pressed in ever tighter around her, only allowing themselves enough room to thrust. Hands clenched and squeezed and pinched her all over. Hands grabbed at her wrists and ankles, elbows, knees, waist, neck, throat. Hands pulled at her bob-cut hair, not to mention the constant mauling on her arse and breasts, her nipples pulled and pinched as if they were milking udders.

Finally, masculine curses and screams and building panic started to make itself known to her and she prayed and prayed that her three suitors were coming to her rescue at last. The screams became a bloody carnage within moments, and worse than she had seen in any horror film like the ones Dean used to make her watch over the years. Blood splashed and arced across the heavy, dark and oppressive sky. The rain-slick ground became splattered with it, like a two-tone Jackson Pollock. And then chewed off and torn away limbs started to fly across Emily's peripheral vision.

She caught fleeting glimpses of her saviours. Jay seemed to be doing all the physical work, ripping, dragging, biting, shoving through the scavengers, with a roaring brutal level of animated violence Emily wouldn't have expected from a zombie. She spotted Dean standing beyond Jay. He appeared to be issuing commands or suggestions to the younger corpse through death-rattle grunts and dull, effort-weighted, pointing with leaden arms and barely useful fingers. It was almost comical.
Other zombies were starting to get the scent of blood and shuffling forward to join Jay in his merry dance of white knight blood-letting and raw-flesh dining. Tearing chunks out of writhing, wailing and dying scavengers and slowly getting closer to Emily at the core of the circle of sexual violence.
Tim was standing clear to the rear of Emily, waiting for something unfathomable. At least until Emily was freed of her rapists.

Of course, Tim was the first to take Emily up on her offer of repayment for their supposed rescuing.

Tim had introduced Emily to sodomy on her birthday. She had never really enjoyed it but he had always had a way of making her feel bad for trying to refuse him. And then when she had got together with Dean it was always "You did it with Tim all the time! It's not right that you don't do it with me too!" So she took Dean's cock up her arse as well whenever he wanted it. She was used to it by that time, supposedly all men wanted it, expected it and it was wrong of her to try and avoid giving it to them whenever they desired.
So it was not in the least bit surprising that as soon as Emily was free of the scavengers, Tim lumbered over, picked her up and pulled her over to a little stone house on the edge of the harbour. He took her to the nearest bedroom, immediately to the left of the front door and threw her down on the bed, pulling her into a doggie style position and then knelt behind her. A cold but hard cock immediately pressed against her sore, stretched anal entrance. All too soon he was inside her, thrusting in deep with an inhuman strength, the clammy flesh cold and hard as ice.
And as she arched, threw her head back and gasped with the pain of her dead ex-boyfriend sodomising her, Emily's eyes going wide allowed her to see not only Dean and Jay entering the room but also the long ugly line of undead males shuffling across the harbour toward the cottage. Towards the bedroom. Towards her.
Tim let out a long undulating groan of undead sexual gratification while Dean and Jay clambered up onto the bed, and behind them a score of other zombies groaning, and shuffling as only the undead can do, inexorably pressed themselves into the bedroom...

<><><>

...Emily awoke with that death rattle of sexual pleasure reverberating in her ears. As her mind slowly caught up on the difference between the fantasy of the dream and the reality of the boat she had fallen asleep inside, the undead groans shifted down into the oily rumble of the boat's engines. She sat up, shaking off the disturbing left over feeling of the dream, even as the content faded from her memory and looked around, sipping water from a bottle beside the bunk.

She shook herself awake and then went up onto the deck to check the engine readings, autopilot and the course. Everything was reading properly and the drive unit, ACU and nine-axis sensor were all functioning and the boat was cruising smoothly through the choppy, relatively smooth, sea. Everything was going well, she was on course and well on her way to Heddaby Island.

Emily looked around her and smiled, recognising that the ever present knot in her stomach, the stress and tension of daily life - after the world that was had gone forever - was no longer there. There was something very reassuring and safe about being alone on a boat in the ocean, nothing could sneak up on her, she didn't have to sleep with one eye open, And there was nothing, other than the sea and the weather that was a danger to her. It made for a very restful and optimistic journey.

It was nightfall by the time Emily landed the boat in the small cove at the southeastern point of the Island. Though it had been close to five years since she had last visited the island, she remembered clearly enough that it was a simple task to navigate there. Heading due west from the harbour would bring her just south of the island, but close enough to see it to enable her to adjust her course to take her to the quay in the southeast cove.

While the autopilot navigated the thankfully calm sea, Emily took a hurried but relatively thorough inventory of the small boat. The boat's owner had fortunately packed it with supplies. There was plenty of bottled water, canned food and dried food and even a small propane stove. She found a backpack that contained a very sound survival kit and a good quality first aid kit with extra medicines, antibiotics and similar assorted tablets. The survival kit had a good quality compass, fire steel, a plastic zip-lock bag full of wood shavings that would make great tinder and kindling. And there was a torch that had extra survival accessories inside its casing.
There was also a pen knife with a spork and scissor attachment, a larger survival style knife with even more survival basics in the handle, a small, modern stainless steel hatchet and something that Emily recognised as a billhook. They had couple of them at the farm, she remembered. The billhook, almost the size of a machete and heavy, was razor sharp and well oiled and would make a very good defensive weapon. There was a stout leather belt with sheaths for the billhook, hatchet and the utility knife, as well as the backpack with the two kits, food and bottled water. All in all it was compact and reasonably light weight.

Once she had made the adjustment on the autopilot to head into the small cove, Emily went below decks to prepare herself for the land journey across the island. She pulled some clothes from under the bunk. Pale blue jeans that were snug on her thighs, tight around her hips and ass but had give at the waist line and calves, a plain grey v-neck t-shirt a size too small and a baggy knitted burgundy jumper a size too big, And the quality hiking boots Jay had found for her a few weeks earlier, then she gathered up her new supplies. She buckled the utility belt around her hips, tossed the backpack over her shoulders and then went up on deck to bring the boat up to the quay and tie off.

Heddaby island was essentially a rough oval, the Eastern crest was raised, formed by granite hills. The base of the crest sprouted a dense oak and pine wood that covered the north almost around to the Western shore. The hills collected the more-often-than-not rainfall and channelled it in a shallow but ever present stream from the northwest across the island to the southeast where it emptied into the sea south of Emily's cove.
The farm was at the base of the hills close to the woods to the North of the island with the arable fields and pasture fields for animals taking up the rest of the wide rolling land. Emily set off along an animal track that followed the stream up to the farm where she would find her grandmother.
The thick cloud cover was still dark, heavy and oppressive, but the moon was shining through a wide gap and provided more than enough light to see by so Emily, by this time long since used to travelling in the dark, decided to save her torch batteries.
The lack of street lights, light pollution and other artificial light created a whole new night time vista that Emily still found herself surprised by. In clearer nights the darkness was not quite so inky black (due to the lack of dazzlingly bright human-made illumination), the brilliant starscape on the enveloping sky was simply mesmerising and even bolstered the bright moon light to create sketchy, though beautiful chalk on charcoal impressions of her surroundings. The resulting monochrome world was more beautiful than she could have imagined.

At the same time, walking alone in the dark was a terrifying experience and this was her first time as well. Since everything ended she had never spent more than a minute out of earshot or protection of an ally or a loved one. But her protectors were all dead and she was alone and had to fend for herself for the first time. She felt that fear and it shook her, but so did a new determination to complete her mission. She was so close to getting to the farm, to safety, to a new settled life. To the culmination of the plan she and Dean had thought up and that Jay had done his part, more than his part, to make real, and now she was literally just minutes away. That reality gave her all the resolve she required to put one foot in front of the other and follow the path to the farm, and not give in to her desire to run back to the boat and hide under the covers of the bunk. She needed to get there and she needed to do it now. Only then would she feel safe.

Soon enough, the animal track led to a much wider smooth pathway of animal- and vehicle-flattened dirt which was flanked by two drainage ditches and a low hedgerow of hawthorn. Beyond were fields, pasture on the left, vegetable crops to the right and beyond them were the woods which followed the outer sweep of the island in a shape like an uneven horseshoe.

At first the silence felt absolute, though Emily soon noticed the sound of the wind playing through the trees and grasses and the hedges and it started to play merry hell with her already flaky nerves. So to keep her heart rate down and her fear under control, she started to sing, quietly, under her breath. She chose eighties pop that had always been her favourite era ("Holding out for a Hero", the irony made her smile, and then feel bad for Dean, and Jay, a little. "Nothing's gonna stop us now", rousing and enlivening. "Livin' on a Prayer", which led her into Madonna's "Like a Prayer"). However, all too soon she discovered that she could no longer recall the lyrics properly or in the right order and sometimes even the correct tune eluded her and dragged her into another song. And she found it increasingly frustrating and depressing.
That momentary connection to her old life, the stress-less safe old life, that happiness she never expected to feel again, just for a few moments she had recaptured it, the old songs resurrecting old memories and old feelings, and yet, she could never quite hold onto it. And, even more so, was that there was no way to listen to those old songs again, from the world that was. And no way to get that back. It was gone forever, all of it. Her house and family, her friends, her job. Eastenders, rom-coms, the radio. Those crappy horror films Dean used to make her watch. The Internet. Facebook. Chocolate (unless you went scavenging, but that was too dangerous unless you were part of a large well armed group). It was all gone. All part of the past.

She marched the last few miles of her journey to the farm in a cold, depressed funk, trying to keep away the resurgent grief of loosing Dean and of thoughts of her dead family and that as far as she knew, and probably would ever know, there was only herself and her Nan left alive. And she didn't even know if her Nan was still alive. The old farmer was as tough as they came and she had little doubt she was still here on Heddaby, but until she saw her with her own eyes and gave her a hug, Emily really had no way of knowing.

Inexplicably, the "Eye of the Tiger" riff was playing in her head and dictating her strolling pace when she first caught sight of the farm house, finally appearing, like a beautiful dawning sun, as Emily crested a low rise. The grey slate tiles and multiple chimney stacks highlighted by the moon's rays.
The place seemed mostly dark except for a flickering light in the upstairs master bedroom. By the reflection of the moon light on the window pane, Emily could tell that the master bedroom window was open. Someone was definitely alive and still occupying the place, then. That was something.

All around her she could hear the nighttime sounds of the farm and they almost immediately brought back bittersweet memories of happy summer visits staying with her grandparents. The lazy clucking of sleepy chickens created an undercurrent for louder but less constant noises of cows idly moving in the field to her left, the lonely bray and stamp of a horse and the snuffling of pigs somewhere to the right.
However, above the animal chatter were Human sounds coming from that master bedroom, sounds that slowed and staggered Emily's advance toward the front door. It was the unmistakable din of rough sex or quite possibly rape, these days it wasn't easy to differentiate one from the other. There was the loud, sharp and fast banging of the head board on the wall, lots of loud grunts, feminine yelping and squeals and slaps, cries and curses, the latter both male and female. And flowing right through it all was the fast, whip-crack slapping rhythm of flesh against flesh.

Emily felt her confidence wilt at the oppressive, disturbing noises, quickly replaced by a rising dread.

And then, a figure came out of nowhere, huge, towering over her by a least a foot, wild looking, bulky, hairy, terrifying. Emily's heart gave a jolt as arms encircled her tightly, a hand clamping firmly over her mouth, stifling her responsive scream. He felt so strong, unyielding, against her young body, like a grizzly bear.
She waited for the agony of the bite that would kill her and then turn her, but instead the familiar earthly aroma caught in her nostrils, an aroma she recognised, not only as the natural scent of a living adult male, but of a specific living adult male. Then the memories came flooding back and her fluttering heart leapt up into her mouth. Grizzly bear wasn't far of the mark, she thought to herself, smiling inside.

End of chapter X
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[Nickamano]

Chapter 2

'Uncle' Joseph 'Bear' Andrews was neither an uncle nor a bear. Both names were affectionate terms that described his relationship to Emily and his physicality. She had thought of him as 'Uncle Bear' for as long as she had known him, since her early childhood. He had always been her favourite, more so than her real Uncles certainly. He had always been warm and kind and attentive. He listened to her, had been a shoulder to cry on and a confidant.
He had acted as a kind of foreman on the farm, a multi-skilled man working side by side with Emily's grandparents. But had his own place on the mainland and most evenings would sail home after nightfall. However, whenever Emily had come to stay on holidays, he would stay over as well and many's the night they had stayed up late with just the log fire for light and warmth and drank cups of hot chocolate while talking together.
He had looked like the quintessential blacksmith, the kind of man you saw drawn in children's fairy tale books. His nickname of 'Bear' was certainly an apt match for his appearance. At least it had been when Emily had last seen him. His voice had been deep though soft and smooth like molasses. It still was.

"It's Joseph Andrews, Em. You used to call me Uncle. Nod if you remember." Emily nodded enthusiastically. "I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth. Please don't speak above a whisper. This is all to protect you, kiddo." And then he gently withdrew his warm calloused palm from across her lower face.
He let go of her, lowering her gently back down to the ground. And Emily felt a momentary disappointment at the sudden space between them, the cessation of an embrace. She quickly turned around to face him. She drew in a calming breath and then whispered to her old friend. Her surrogate father.
"Hi Uncle Bear." She said, tears filling her eyes and long dormant beaming smile lighting up her pretty face.
"Hiya kiddo. I can't believe you're actually here!"
His controlling hug returned but was now transformed into a warm and welcoming embrace which, for Emily, ended far too quickly.
"I've missed you. We all have. And I've definitely missed that smile!" He added.
Emily felt herself blushing and lowered her eyes a little then looked back up at the middle aged man.
"It's just... Amazing to see you Uncle Bear." She gushed keeping her voice low but unable to keep out the expressiveness. "I can't believe I made it. But... What's going on? Is my Nan here?"
"There're some bad people here, we have to make sure they don't know about you. No matter what." He said glancing up at the upstairs bedroom window with the sexual din still cutting through the tranquil night with all the welcome of an incessant car alarm.
"That's not..?" Surely no one would rape her grandmother? She was past seventy! But she couldn't bring herself to voice her concern out loud.
Bear realised her fear at once though and shook his head.
"Bea's downstairs. They leave her alone. C'mon to my cottage. We'll talk there. You'll be safe in there."
He threw a powerful and reassuring arm around Emily's shoulder and turned her, leading her away to the small stone and wood cottage that they had used as a storage shed when she had been a girl.

"You know, I knew you'd be smart enough to make your way here... Though... no Dean?" He asked in a whisper as they crossed the packed earth between the house and cottage.
"He died. Just a few days a go." She replied, fighting to keep the heartbreaking flashback from rearing its head, or her voice from cracking with renewed grief.
She had been fortunate in a way, since Dean had died, that she had been distracted and kept busy by Jay and getting across to Heddaby, but since she had been alone the reminders that came from her memories and the realisation of who she had lost started to stab at her, like a rusty knife twisting and stabbing inside her heart. That vivid dream earlier had made it all ten times worse, seeing him again, however undead, had been like being visited by him.
"I'm sorry, honey." Bear replied softly, squeezing her reassuringly with a protective arm across her shoulders.

The cottage was stone with a recently tiled roof, the guttering led to a large collecting tank. Bear unlocked the door and swung it open. Fire light and warmth spread themselves across Emily's face, bringing an unexpected smile to her face. And the inviting and nostalgic smell of burning logs infused into her, making her breathe it in deeply.
The place, though barely illuminated by the large open fire facing her, looked and felt warm and cosy and homely. It was as if the cottage was welcoming her itself.
The cottage was essentially a rectangle with the door set in the middle of the bottommost long wall and the fire in the centre of the uppermost long wall. A large bed took up a third of the right hand side of the room and there was a small kitchen and pantry against the left wall. The internal water supply was fed by an old style hand pump over the sink and near the sink was another door which no doubt led to a toilet of some description.
A big plush couch was pressed up against the wall to the right of the entrance and two huge wing-back arm chairs flanked the fire place. Each wall had its own window with thick curtains drawn across for privacy. A large square space in the ceiling allowed quick access to the loft and through the space, Emily noticed bales of straw had been stuffed into the gaps between the battens to provide insulation. The floor was smoothly sanded floorboards covered with a few old looking rugs. The stone walls had been covered by white-painted sheets of hardboard. The chimney breast was covered by a collection of bladed weapons. Probably not just for display purposes. There were a dozen hatches and kitchen knives, a number of survival and combat knives, a couple of bayonets, three large machetes, a pair of billhooks and even a scythe.
Emily turned around to watch Bear turn the big mortis key in its lock, slap across two heavy draw bolts and then finish his security measures with two three inch thick lumps of rough hewn timber that he dropped into sturdy metal slots. "Just like they used to have on medieval doors in old films." Emily thought to herself, as she watched him.
It was then that she noticed he only had one hand.
"Jesus Bear! What happened?!" She gasped, pointing at his missing hand.
"Lost it. Don't worry about it, kiddo." He said simply and didn't seem willing to elaborate. Emily let it go.

She dumped her backpack on the floor by the back door and unbuckled her weapon belt, then tugged her heavy woollen jumper over her head, feeling the t-shirt beneath ride up and she felt suddenly self-conscious and felt herself blushing. She wondered if Bear was watching her. The answer turned out to be inconclusive. By the time she had the garment over her head and was combing her hair straight, he was pulling two glasses and two bottles out of a cupboard, his back to her.
"I have whiskey and vodka, something to smooth out the edges. If I can tempt you, Em?"
"A huge Vodka sounds great. I feel like getting blasted."
"Good."
"I haven't had a drink in ages, Uncle! We always had to keep it for medicine, cleaning wounds an' all that."
"Well not this, this stuff is special." He grinned, holding her eyes with his warm, gentle gaze before pouring two glasses with the alcohol.
"So did you make it the rest of the way here on your own?" He asked her, passing her glass across and then picking up his own.
"No, just across the water. I was with another guy for a while but he turned just this morning. Saved me though. Got me most of the way here, too. I probably wouldn't have made it without him."
They took the chairs, angled them half toward the fire, half toward each other and almost close enough for their knees to touch.
"Well, I'm glad he did." Bear said, then raised his glass and smiled at Emily, but it was a sad smile, more likely of sympathy and sadness for her losses. "To Dean and the other bloke. God bless 'em both."
They drank deeply and then relaxed into the the two wing-back chairs, sipping their drinks and gazing in silence into the enigmatic, dancing flames.

Emily broke the silence eventually, her eyes washing over Bear while she enjoyed the heat warming her within and without. She drained her vodka and Bear at once refilled her glass.
"So what's going on round here? Who're these bad people? Is my Nan alright?" She asked.
"She's more or less fine. She can't walk far and has to use a wheel chair to get around, but she has all her faculties. She spends most days writing down her knowledge of farming in a big book for the next generation. She would have made a fine teacher in another life."
"I can't wait to see her." She took another gulp of vodka, scowling slightly at the sharpness. "I miss Redbull." She muttered to herself. Bear chuckled.
"So, go on. What's all this badness. What was all that noise from upstairs?"
"Your Auntis Sal's here." Bear replied simply, though his voice darkened at the name.
"Auntie Sal? Really? I didn't think anyone else in the family would still be alive!"
"The two of you and Bea are probably all that's left. But Sally made her way here early on. Me and her have been running the farm together. But it's too much for us both. We had to find help."
He paused and took a deep mouthful of his drink. Paused again. Gave a deep sigh.
"You remember the McMann brothers? The twins from Hensley, the next island over?"
"Those spoiled little shits who liked to fight and mistreat the animals?" Emily muttered, vaguely remembering the boys from her last few visits. They were about five years younger than her. Bear nodded. Drained his drink, poured another.
"They haven't changed, just grown up. We needed them to help with the farm and they agreed easily enough. But they decided to choose their own payment. They were very insistent. Your Aunt Sal wasn't given any choice." His discomfort and embarrassment were obvious.
"What d'you mean payment?" Emily asked frowning. Her tired brain just starting to put two and two together.
"You Aunt deals with it." Bear was actually blushing when he said it.
"I don't... Wait, you mean... That was Auntie Sal upstairs, with all that noise!? They were fucking her?!" Emily was incredulous. And furious.
Bear nodded, his head bowed. He wouldn't look Emily in the eye.
"Everyday, for a couple of hours after work. Before they head home."
"We have to do something! We have to help her!" Emily groaned. "I don't get why you haven't already killed 'em both! Or at least told 'em where to go!?"
"Can't do that kiddo..."
"Why the fuck not?!"
"Because we need them." Bear said matter of factly. "Sal, and me with my one hand, we can't manage the farm on our own. We'd die without their help, their labour and they know it."
"But... Auntie Sal..."
"I tried to step in Em, that first time. They did this to me." He lifted his left arm with the stump where the hand should be. "They're evil sick little bastards the both of them. They made it clear that we needed them and they were right. I let them do what they wanted. Sally said she could handle it. We allowed it to happen. But, I don't know how long Sal can keep going. It's been months and they hurt her a little more each time."
"Oh God... Oh fuck... What can we do?"
"Nothing for the time being..."
"What d'you mean nothing?! They're raping my Aunt on a daily basis and you won't do anything about it?!"
"We were hoping Dean would have made it. Another big strong bloke would have been enough..."
"I can work just as hard as anyone. You don't need those rapist fuckers any more!"
"Maybe you're right Em, you were always strong and capable..."
He sat in silence for a moment, finished his drink and then looked over at her with renewed confidence in his glassy eyes.
"Don't worry." He smiled at her. "I'll think of something. But right now the most important thing is to keep you hidden, safe from them. They can't ever know you're here. Never. You stay with me tonight. They leave me alone if I stay out of their business. Sally'll need her sleep after they've gone. Stamina of youth, you know... And your Nan will be fast asleep too."

They sat in silence for a while, drinking and looking at the fire. Bear offered Emily some chicken broth with freshly picked peas and freshly baked bread but she had no appetite. Eventually the mood passed and they started to chat again, about old times and more recent adventures.
As they chatted away, feeling closer and the mood lifting, problems and fears slipping into the recesses of their thoughts, Emily looked over Bear again. She found his presence at once strange and enticing. He was the same man she remembered growing up and she still felt all the same feelings she used to - trust and warmth and respect. However, she was not the same girl with the innocent girlish crush any more. She remembered how she had felt and it was still there underneath but she found it hard to call him uncle any more. Found it somehow inappropriate to think of him as a family member. She didn't want to, it made her current feelings somehow dirty, immoral.
She looked him up and down while he told her about the farm and how together, Bea, Sally and himself had sat down and formulated the best ways to make it a self-reliant, safe and dependable place for them to stay and live and prosper in this new world. She made all the right noises and feigned attentiveness at what he was telling her, but the warming, relaxing sensation of all the vodkas she had now downed were drawing her attention elsewhere.

She gazed into those big hazel eyes, long lashed and expressive, she lost herself in them for a moment. Then she realised the near hypnotised state she was falling into and drew her attention backward. His generous mouth, looking very kissable and soft, was not quite masked by the surrounding salt and pepper beard and moustache. And it didn't hide the soft roundness of a surprisingly youthful face. His handsome nose was curved, concave, wide on his face but nicely formed. His hair was wild and thick, falling down around the sides of his face in loose natural waves, streaked with grey, unkempt yet somehow attractive. It reminded her of Johnny Depp in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape". If he had been fifty or so in the film. Or was that the booze talking? She managed to suppress a giggle.
He wore an old, one time white shirt - unbuttoned collar, right sleeve rolled up past his elbow, while the left was buttoned at the severed wrist. The way the shirt bulged taut in a number of places made it all too obvious that his upper body was both huge and hairy. A massive, broad chest and thickly muscled arms. Hard and masculine, toned by decades of honest toil. His forearms and chest appeared to be thick with wiry hair that matched the coarse though neatly trimmed moustache and beard he always sported. His thighs, cinched into rugged, faded jeans, with rips in both knees, looked every bit as heavily muscled and powerful as his arms and chest. His clothes, just like his skin, though somewhat weathered by the elements were surprisingly clean and unblemished. Overall, he looked a good ten years younger than the early fifties she knew him to be. His feet were bare but she didn't like feet so she didn't throw more than a glance their way.
Emily realised then that she was getting damp, her eyes were sinking into his again and her nipples felt stiff. She wondered if he could tell. And she found herself hoping he could.
He was older and experienced, would no doubt be patient, mature, capable, compassionate. And he looked very strong. She found herself wondering what he was packing in his jeans. Something big and thick set with a pair of testicles a big as granny smith apples. She couldn't stifle the giggle that time.
She glanced at his missing left hand, as he unconsciously reached for his glass with it before correcting himself with a little ironic half smile, and found that it didn't bother her in the slightest. Feet were a turn off but a severed hand didn't bother her? Weird. Their conversation was parallel to Emily's thoughts at that moment.

"...I know I'm a bit weird, but I seem to attract odd men to me too." She found herself explaining. "That guy Jay who helped me get here until he turned yesterday? He was an okay guy, but he constantly hung around me, even though I was with Dean. Even before... He was always watching me, trying to make out he could make me happier than Dean, that Dean was abusive or something. When the shit hit the fan, he didn't bother with his own family, he came straight to Dean's to ... I don't know, rescue me or something. But I had Dean! I didn't need rescuing!"
She looked to Bear for a reaction but all he did was cross a weak sympathetic smile with a frown of disapproval that looked more confused than anything. Emily thundered on.
"And then when Dean was killed a few days ago, he just grabbed his opportunity, before Dean was even cold. He used me for his lusts, took advantage. I had to... let him have me whenever he wanted, gave him blow jobs. He even made me take it... Take it up the arse or he would have left me there with Dean's dead body. Out in the woods. In the middle of nowhere."
She wasn't quite sniffling, the alcohol had dulled the memories to flicking images, like memories of a porn flick she'd watched one time.
However, she found though she could say the words to Bear, be explicit like she always had been, it was harder saying it all face to face, looking into his lovely eyes. And his eyes betrayed his shock. Not that they should have, since she had said as much in all those emails over the years. But Bear's shocked expression caught Emily short and she tried to back track, flushing with embarrassment, but then thought better of it and justified herself instead.
"I've always been open and frank, you know that. And I've never felt any particular shame or embarrassment talking about my sex life. I used to talk to my mum about it. I mean, we all do it. Why shouldn't we talk about it?!"
"No, you're quite right, it's just hearing you say it, you know, face to face. It's a bit different than reading it in emails that's all."
"Oh yeah, some of the shit I confessed in those emails. I could have given you a heart attack!" She giggled, unconsciously twirling her fingers in her hair.
She licked her lips, tasting hint of vodka. Bear leaned toward her.
"It's fine. I like the fact that you're frank and open, and it isn't weird Em. You aren't weird." He drew out a short silence between them, holding her eyes with his and smiling. "I remember plenty of long conversations about that lad from college. And emails too. It was refreshing for me to get involved and try and give you advice when I could."
"You always gave good advice Bear, even if I didn't always listen. In fact you've always been there when I needed you. Shoulder to cry on, sage advice, you always told me the truth, even painful ones when I needed to hear them. You were always full of compassion." Realising she was gushing a bit too much and noticing the discomfort in Bear's movements, Emily quickly hurried the subject on.
"That was Tim, the lad in college. I wasted a couple of years on that prick. I couldn't see it at the time though. Some of the things he used to make me do! Jesus, I was such an idiot! He used to fuck me on my period, demanded daily blow jobs, cheated on me left right and centre. He said if I didn't give up my anal cherry he'd go out and find someone who would. That was before I knew about the other girls. And then he'd want my arse all the fucking time, the shit-head. And when he eventually got bored of me and dumped me, I was so desperate to try and get him back that I let him come around and fuck me, offered to suck him off whenever he wanted, even agreed to having a threesome with the woman he left me for! I was in love and so scared of being alone that I did whatever he wanted. See, weird. Or pathetic. One or the other."
"It's not weird or pathetic Em. It's perfectly natural. We all feel like that. scared of being alone, of alienating our loved ones. So we make sacrifices to make them happy. All you need to do is make sure the sacrifice you make is worth what the relationship gives you. Obviously, in that case it wasn't worth it. He was a little bastard who needed the shit kicking out of him for what he made you do."
"You tried to tell me." Emily mentioned.
Bear just smiled and gave a little shrug.
"I shouldn't be telling you this, but later, once I realised what an idiot I'd been over Tim, I used to fantasise that you'd come to my rescue. Sometimes when we were fighting or when I'd caught him cheating, you'd turn up to support me, or beat the shit out of him. Sometimes when he'd made me feel so shit that I'd let him fuck my arse even when I didn't want to, or was still sore from the last time, you'd kick down the door, grab him by the scruff of the neck and throw him out of a window or something and then pick me up in your big powerful arms, still completely naked and carry me gently to safety. Christ! I must be pissed! I can't believe I just told you that!"
"I always loved the fact that you trusted me to be so open and explicit in your emails."
This time it was Emily's turn to smile and shrug, though she could feel the blush racing across her throat and cheeks, she felt nothing but warmth and comfort from the older man. No embarrassment at all. She never had.
"I think part of me was trying to shock you. Maybe part of me was getting off on thinking about how my exploits would make you feel. Sometimes I don't know why I do some of the things I do..."
"The hardest part for me was being supportive to you and honest, giving advice without hurting your feelings. I used to dream about coming down to where you were staying and saving you from all those bastards you kept getting mixed up with. Believe me kiddo, if I'd been in the position to swoop in and rescue you, that's exactly what I would have done."
"You really are an angel Bear. I should show you how much I've appreciated you over these years..."
"That isn't necessary, Em."
"Maybe I want to..." She said suggestively, getting up and sliding herself onto Bear's knee.
His whole arm came around her waist to support her. He looked half taken aback and half enticed. Emily slipped an arm around his shoulders
"Oh, wait, Are you and my Auntie...?"
"No, no we're just mates." He said with a shrug. "Always been that way."
"Good." Emily breathed, looking down at him through half-lidded eyes, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her glistening lips.
"Em love, I admit I find you very very attractive but... You're like my daughter, kiddo. I don't think..."
"Oh fuck that." She said, grinning. And then pressed her lips gently but hotly onto his.

As their lips touched, both marvelled at the softness of the other's mouth. Emily had expected Bear's facial hair to be coarse and wiry and irritating, she had kissed stubbly faces before and had experienced just about every discomfort from scratchiness to full blown static shocks, but Bear's beard was soft and caressing, almost massaging her. She groaned and slipped her tongue between his full, succulent lips.
Bear's responding moan was deep and smooth and so expressive, so passion filled that it made Emily's heart flutter. She squirmed and rubbed her hot thighs together. Kissing him that much harder as his mouth opened for her tongue.
And all at once it was as if years of pent up, subconscious, mutual desire had been unleashed. Lust boiled over and they were all over each other.

Emily reached for Bear, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him toward her while she slid off his lap and pulled him to his feet. Even as their kisses deepened their arms encircled each other, pulling them closer, growing almost rabid with need to express both their sexual desire and mutual comfort.
Keeping his hand-less left arm tight around her waist, Bear slid his right hand slid into her short dark hair, enjoying the deep and passionate kiss they shared while he slid his fingers through her soft brunette bob.

Her hands moved over his body, feeling the broad, hard muscles of his chest and arms, the firm corded muscles of his upper back and the acute concave sweep as his shoulders scooped into a narrow waist. it felt like she was sculpting a perfect shape of healthy masculinity with her hands and it really turned her on.
Bear followed suit with his own hand, but in a typically male way his caresses were entirely sexual. His hands whirled around her, sliding down from her hair to grip her waist and pull her tight against his solid frame, then the hand moved again, the handless left arm locking tight across her upper back like a vice, while the right hand slid down to her small perky breasts, squeezing at first playfully and then with a wilder abandon. He felt the soft orbs first one and then the other, their soft warmth, their gelatinous feel, their give under his squeezing fingers. He felt her nipples, already hardened, pressing against his palm and he pinched at them with fingers before cupping one glorious perky orb while thumbing the stiff, spongy nipple with flicks and strokes with the thick pad of his thumb. He had Emily panting into his open mouth while their over-active tongues danced, frolicking and fencing from one hot mouth to the other, back and forth. Soon enough his hand slipped down to her waist again and the delved further south for a hungry feel up of her delectable arse.
He moulded his palm over one cheek and then the other, pressing his fingers in, feeling the soft flesh and the firm muscle beneath.
"You're arse is fantastic, Em. Soft and firm, both together. Don't think it's ever been as taut and perky as it is right now." He groaned, using the moment they stopped their hungry French kissing to catch their breaths.
"Eating less and walking miles everyday'll do it." She replied with a smirk. "Are we all locked up tight in here?"
"Yeah, we're safe enough in here. It'd take a battering ram."
"So you like my arse do you?"
"Too fucking right I do." And then their mouths locked together again, and another frantic tongue duel began.
While Bear's hand once against juggled copping feels of Emily's arse and breasts, tweaking and pulling gently at her engorged nipples between squeezing the orbs of her b-cup breasts, Emily herself started on the buttons of his shirt.
She really wanted to rip the buttons off and had to battle down the urge to rip his clothing from his body, instead she hurriedly fumbled each button until his shirt gaped. Then she yanked the tails from the waist band of his bulging jeans and finally threw it back from his huge boulder-like shoulders.
All the while Emily deliberately feigned a blow job with her lips, unadulteratedly sexual, using Bear's tongue as if it was his cock, sucking up and down the extended appendage with her pursed lips, while she teased the tip with flicks and caresses of her own agile tongue. Giving him a kind of taste of things to come. His responsive guttural groan showed her exactly how much he appreciated it. And what it promised.
While Emily simulated her oral technique on his tongue, she rubbed firmly at his erection through the warm bulge of taut denim at his crotch.
Then she abruptly pulled away from their voracious and frantic kiss, intending to get her lips down on to his cock, which took Bear by surprise.
"Going somewhere?" He asked, eyebrows shooting up, teasing Emily with amused, feigned ignorance.
Her own confusion wasn't feigned.
"I can deep throat..." She explained in all innocence. "...I'm good at it, and I swallow. I don't mind the taste of spunk."
She was almost pleading, as if she was asking permission to suck a man's cock. Bear could hardly keep his laughter under control, and his excitement.
"You're that good, eh? You're gonna have to put your money where your mouth is, kiddo. So to speak." He added with a barely controlled chuckle.
And Emily, taking his mock challenge literally, didn't waste time, she went in for the kill.

She snatched at the fastening of his jeans, opened up his fly then reached into the open flap of his boxer shorts and levered out a thick and solid looking erection. It wasn't overly long, but it was thick and very very hard and hot against her caressing palm.

Working saliva into her mouth, she curled her lips over her teeth and pushed her open mouth over his warm spongy cock head, washing it with her vodka flavoured drool as she took it deeper and deeper.
His natural musk was at once sweet and salty and, maybe persuaded by lust and alcohol, she enjoyed the taste of him on her tongue.
As his hand closed on the back of her head, she took a breath, angled her jaw and then buried his hard pulsing shaft down her tight, talented throat.
Bear's groan of obvious pleasure echoed around the cottage. So did the wet, hard, rhythmic squelching sounds of Emily's throat and lips sliding up and down his thick, engorged length.
Gratified by his response, Emily started to show off, using her best quick-time deep throating pace, taking him balls deep and then pressing her tongue out to flick at the delicate flesh of his big, pendulous scrotum.
She sucked him hard, holding his luscious hazel eyes with her lustrous blue/green ones. And he groaned and panted and thrust with his hips in time to her thrusting mouth, pushing himself a little bit deeper each time Emily took it into her throat. She worked quickly, sucking voraciously, keeping her throat open for his thrusting crown until she felt his balls tightening and new shafts of steel hardness develop in his hard meat.
"Oh! Dammit Em! You're gonna make me cum..!" Bear groaned loudly, leaning back and jamming his cock all the way into her throat.
So, with a gasp and gulps of fresh air, she quickly pulled her face off his shaft. Keeping a tight pinching grip of the fat root with one hand while she got her breath back, and deciding that she didn't want to finish him off too quickly.
"Jesus you're fucking good at that!" Bear panted.
"Told ya!" She sang in breathless response.
Bear hauled her to her feet and gratefully hugged her for a moment before, together, they yanked off the rest of his clothes and then got back to the horny French kissing, rubbing his hairy nakedness against her young, ripe, though still clothed body.
Emily dry humped Bear, pressing her back toward him and rubbing her arse against him, then turning to face him again and pressing a thigh between his to allow him to rub his huge ball sack against her smooth leg, while he fondled her succulent arse with his one hand.

Emily pulled her mouth off Bear's, a strand of drool connecting them for a moment, before she stepped back out of his embrace. She took a moment to look him over. That body, broad shoulders, thick arms, narrow waist, tree trunk legs. All of which was matted with a soft covering of dark hair. Tan lines at his throat and biceps, his neck, face and lower arms hinting at a bronze complexion whereas the rest of him was a creamy pinkish hue, The muscle wasn't toned or gym exaggerated. It was honest muscle, hard work muscle. And then nested in the thickest patch of pubic hair was a huge scrotum pendulous, distended and filled by a pair of testicles as big as pool balls. And the erect phallus, fat, hard and jutting upwards at a forty-five degree angle, pulsing rhythmically with his pronounced excitement and glistening in the fire light from crown to stem with her saliva.
Smiling to herself at the effect she was having on him, and with what she was about to do next, Emily started to unbutton the fastenings of her jeans. And almost in anticipation Bear gaze a long, low, guttural groan as Emily started to undress herself.

She had stripped off her jeans and t-shirt and was reaching behind her to unfasten an admittedly grubby looking bra before he spoke. Prior to that moment he had been standing there staring at her in dumb excitement, marvelling at the taut silkiness of her creamy young flesh. And looking over her tattoos as each was exposed. Some he liked others he didn't, but she was succulent and alluring and unfathomably sensual all the same. Every part of her.
"Em, how far do you want to take this? Just so I know." He asked, obviously wanting to double check what she was consenting to.
There might be no law now, since the old world ended, except for personal morality, but Bear's was strong and valued and he needed to be certain for his own peace of mind.
Unfortunately, it seemed to go straight over Emily's inebriated head.
"Well, it's up to you." She answered in all seriousness. "I don't mind taking it up the arse, if there's plenty of lube, if that's what you're getting at. Every lad I've ever been with has insisted on it, so I'm kinda used to it by now..."
He knew from reading Emily's emails and by reading between the lines that she had, all too often, been easily led and slightly naive in her sexual education. Instead of learning what she enjoyed and was good at and liked to do, she had been educated by demanding and manipulative lovers to get good at what they liked most and learning what she should be doing for her men, to satisfy their needs first. Apparently, she had learned it well over the last decade or so.
"Well that's definitely something to think about." He said with obvious, horny interest.
Though he didn't want to take advantage of her like all those others had, at the same time he was admittedly very interested in the thought of fucking this ripe young hottie up her arse.

He gazed at her, those big lush eyes, blue/green though in some lights they could almost be brown, her hair smooth and shiny, a deep mahogany, collar length, a partial fringe half over one eye, those lips, thin but revealed to be talented and sensual. And the rest of her was young and pert, smooth flesh, softly pinkish and pale, taut with tone that had never been there in the last few times he had seen her, she had been generously fleshed, never quite fat but larger than she needed to be. That had been tightened by the lifestyle of the new world. It made her look healthy, somehow more youthful. She looked younger then her twenty six years anyway, she always had been young for her age. But now those feminine curves were suddenly overtly sexual under Bear's scrutiny, for the first time. It was the first time he had allowed himself to look at her with sexual eyes, at least the first time he would admit it to himself. Her limbs were slender but shapely, her shoulders up high and smoothly curved, slender sensual throat, perky, not quite handful breasts with highly positioned nipples, stiffened erotically by her own intoxicated excitement, framed by cutely pink disc shaped areolae. Her stomach was smooth and all most flat, a tiny bulge but nothing like it ever had been. He caught a glimpse of a tattoo down the side of her ribs in the firelight, almost animated by the dancing flames.
Her pussy, though crowned by a golden patch of soft pubic hair was still exposed, pink, swollen lips glinting possibly with her own desire clearly visible and very inviting. Her legs, though not long, were proportioned and well formed, muscles in her thighs and calves creating alluring curves while each tapered smoothly to knees and ankles. The cankles of her teens long gone. More swirling tattoo flowers and vines seeming to flicker and dance in the fire's glow added further points of interest to her right calf and foot.
He found himself wishing for a well positioned mirror so he could get a good look at her succulent arse as well. But before his mind could really start to postulate its own designs, she was stepping into his arms again, both of them naked and warm, pressing flesh against flesh, inhaling each other's desires and scents.

"...But, I definitely want you inside me." Emily confided then. A breathy confession, holding his fiery eyes with her sultry ones.
"I don't know if that's..." He stammered slightly, the anal consent having, delightfully, thrown his train of thought.
"Yeah... You do, Bear." She replied, with a wicked, horny grin. "C'mere."
She slipped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face to her perky young bosom. At once he caught hold of a stiff, slightly salty nipple and sucked it ravenously while his hand clutched at her sexy arse and his arm across her lithe back held her tight to him.
She groaned a long sexy groan that had his erection throbbing. The she caught hold of the shaft with her free hand and caressed the root, working the stretched foreskin across the bloated, lust swollen crown. His groan, accompanying hers, reverberated through her engorged, tingling nipple and sent shivers of pleasure through her breasts and down into her pulsing, damp core.
"I need you Bear. Right now. C'mon and take me." She moaned unsteadily, riding the wave of a rapidly building climax.
In reply, Bear shuffled them away from the fire and over toward the bed. They fell on it together. There were two stacked mattresses over the hard wooden platform so it was at once soft and hard and felt fantastic to Emily. The sheets smelled clean and fresh, cool against their lust burning flesh.
She moaned a breathy train of mumbled "yes's" as they came together again on the bed, limbs intertwining along with hotly caressing tongues and fondling, squeezing, stroking, pinching hands.

They temporarily discovered a fun position with Bear on his back, Emily straddling him with his hot, throbbing erection sandwiched between his abdomen and her pubic mound. Her breasts were cushioning his face and his hand was between her buttocks. He was masterful with his one hand, instinctively knowing how to maintain her pleasures while none too slowly building them toward the coming crescendo. His middle and ring finger constantly stroking her lust swollen labia, wonderfully circling her clitoris or dipping into her smouldering, delectable pussy. At the same time his index finger teased her anal mouth, stroking the puckered star of hot pinched flesh. And, once in a while, the pad of his finger would press inward and invade her anus by a millimetre or two. All the while he sucked on her nipples gluttonously, moving back and forth from one to the other and used his, thankfully soft, facial hair to caress and massage the succulent, smooth flesh of her breasts.
Emily was panting and moaning while she gyrating uncontrollably against him, moments from gushing an intense climax all over his talented fingers. She threw her head back and let out an urgent, quivering moan. It sounded almost painful.

"Oh, Jesus girl, you're amazing!"
Bear, momentarily between nipples, groaned the announcement gutturally, carried away with his desire for the pretty brunette.
Emily gave a kind of uneven chuckle.
"You gonna protect me from now on Bear? You gonna keep me safe?" Bear's responses were just eroticised groans, not enough for Emily. "Are you going to look after me?"
As she moaned she reached under her, between her thighs, releasing the pressure on his engorged, pussy-snuggled cock and took a tight grasp of the rock hard shaft in one fist, stroking him playfully.
"Of course I am, you don't have to worry about that. We all will, Em. We're all family here."
"But you especially?"
She sounded like a little lost child to Bear and it made him momentarily uncomfortable, interfering with what he saw and felt as Emily as a grown adult. But then he realised she was just playing with him. It was a motivational speech, encouraging him, telling him what he needed to do for her if he wanted to have her. And at the same time maybe convincing herself one last time why she was lying naked in bed with her 'Uncle' about to fuck him. He didn't care any more. She was no child, she had already proved as much by getting here, with or without help, she was strong and level headed and resourceful.
And she was family. More than anyone. She had always been special to him, even as a little girl. She didn't need to bribe him with sex to protect her, he always would have died for her. But he was no fool, or prude and he wasn't going to turn down what she was offering. He was going to take it at every opportunity. Whenever it was offered.
"Oh, yes, me especially."
And then he silenced her game by drawing her down so she was eye to eye with him and pressing his mouth to hers in another deep and powerful erotic kiss.
She responded, along with voraciously returning his kiss, with her fingers squeezing even more tightly on the fierce grip she maintained on his solid, fat and visibly pulsing erection, and tugging more overtly at the silky, vein-bulging foreskin.
And with that he pulled his mouth from hers and kissed and licked a quick erogenous pathway down her body, throat, breasts, nipples, down her side to her waist, across to her navel then across the angle of her hip to her upper thighs, he kissed all around her thighs, moving inexorably inwards until the soft warmth of her inner thighs was under his lips, then he made his way north to her pussy mound.

She was close to the edge already and it didn't take much to tongue lash her to orgasm but he used his best techniques all the same, wanting to impress her. She was dripping wet and obviously ready for him but he enjoyed a succulent young pussy to feast on and he took his time. He started with feather-light kisses and touches with the softer parts of his tongue, focussing on her labia and then moving into her sweet tasting inner core. His licks and kisses slowly intensified but he had the stamina and rhythm to maintain his increased pace. Finally, after sampling tongue scoops of her sweet dew, and he could have sworn she'd been on an exclusive watermelon diet, he started on her clit, circling around it and stroking it through the fleshy hood and just underneath it. Until her thighs were twitching at every lick and she was moaning and gyrating against his face, her hands clutching at his head. He groaned his own pleasure into her pussy and she wailed and quivered against him, grinding herself into his face, enjoying both his enjoyment of her body and the hot breath and vibrations of his groans.
He moved to figure-of-eights around and across her clitoral hood and within seconds Emily was groaning breathy "Don't stops". He finished her off by encircling her clitoral hood with his lips, sucking firmly while he stroked at the little nub with the flat of his tongue. The moment he slid a thick finger into her pussy and worked a beckoning gesture against her g-spot brought her off to a shuddering and noisy orgasm. She gushed a splattering of her sweet juices onto his lips and over his beard and he continued to lick and caress her pussy, swollen lips and all around her clitoris as she calmed down, maintaining a certain degree of pleasure and keeping her from coming completely out of her orgasm.

"Oh, God Bear. I need you inside me!" She groaned eventually.
With a grin he got up but instead of sliding on top of her he used his strength to lift and flip her so they were in a sixty-nine position with Emily on top. Bear went straight back to it with his mouth, sucking on her lips and moaning and humming his desire into her. Almost at once he detected the quick rising of her desires again, her pussy pulsing under his ministrations, her juices flowing liberally and he licked and sucked them up with abandon, as if it was a honey pot. At the same time the fingers of his remaining hand once against found their way into the action. Coming in from the side, two fingers penetrated her while a third teased her anus, stroking and pressuring, penetrating her sphincter by millimetres, more teasing her with pressure than actual fingering.
All the while Emily tried to suck his erection, she managed to take him deep throat and forced herself into a good, deep, sucking rhythm using her throat muscles on his crown as she drew him back from the depths of her, but she was enjoying his mouth on her far too much and found it impossible to concentrate on what she was doing. Her own moans, first pleasurable and soon turning orgasmic, added a lovely vibration to Bear's blowjob but there was no way she could maintain her talents as a second orgasm exploded all over his face and Emily released his cock from her throat in order to vocalise her earth-shattering climatic pleasure.

He let her calm down this time, but rolled her onto her back and then sucked at her nipples and played with her anus, pussy entrance and pouting lips to keep her interested and wet. Until she was once again begging him to shove his cock into her. This time he complied. But it only lasted something like fifteen or twenty minutes.
He lifted her again with his impressive strength, turned her to face him and then lowered her into a sitting position over his naked lap. Emily took over the duty then, reaching down to grip the base of his thick, hard shaft with one hand while spreading her labia around the fat ridge of his swollen cock head with the other and then pressing down with her curvaceous hips, slowly pushing herself down the length of his fat erection. She groaned as she felt that hardness and pulsing warmth filling and stretching her tender, palpitating vagina.
Just that singular sensation almost brought her to a third orgasm. She took him all the way inside her, until her buttocks and inner thighs were grinding against his muscular hips. The physical sensations of the erect cock deep inside her of the well formed muscular body beneath her, threw her ascent to orgasm upward another few notches.
That combined with the emotional treat that it was Bear under her, that it was Bear she was riding on, that it was Bear's hand that moved between cupping and squeezing her quivering breasts and caressing and gripping her taut buttocks, threw her even closer to climax.
And then she started riding properly on his shaft, bouncing herself on it, lifting and lowering herself on it, holding it deep, all the way inside her smouldering honey pot and gyrating her hips feeling that hard pulsing hot poker that filled her, seemingly right up into her stomach. He felt so hot and solid inside her, so good, so enticing that she reached the peak after only a quick fuck.
He brought her over the edge when, squeezing on an arse cheek he used his stump arm to hook her around the back of her neck and pull her down, moving his mouth to her succulent breasts and sucking on her nipples as he started to thrust up to meet her writhing hips, pounding into her from beneath and groaning continually into one engorged nipple and then the other.
She climaxed powerfully, coming like a geyser, moaning and groaning more and more loudly until Bear had to muffle her with a horny tongue-full kiss. She rode her way through her explosive orgasm, spurting juices over his thrusting cock and simultaneously driving him to the edge of his own climax.
Even as Emily was enjoying the post orgasm descent, Bear reached his. He pulled her bodily off his bulging, throbbing shaft and without prompt she dropped her mouth onto it and deep throated it just as he began to empty his balls with a deep, wheezing, exalted groan, stuffing his hand into his mouth and biting down on his fist to keep the noise sedated. Emily sucked and swallowed three or four times until his balls were drained, their contents transferred from his scrotum to her stomach.
The action of that rapid and exhaustive deep throating, cum swallowing took it out of Emily and the long stressful time since she had last slept for more than an hour took hold of her and put her out of commission.
Lying there on his back, panting and groaning quietly in his own post orgasm stupor, Joseph Bear Andrews, smiled sleepily as Emily cuddled up beside him and almost immediately started a soft snoring. He leaned up long enough to pull the duvet up over them and then spent a few moments looking at the pretty, soundly sleeping twenty something, warmly illuminated by the red-orange glow of the dying embers of his log fire.
He smiled at what he saw, almost feeling the love develop, right there alongside the lust and gratitude he felt for her presence and her attractiveness to him, until he too fell asleep there beside her.

[Nickamano]

Chapter 3

Since the world the was ended everyone had more or less reverted to natural waking and sleeping times, the sun woke you and the darkness told you it was time for bed. So the sun's rising brought the farm up to wakefulness. Emily was awake before that though.

She had learned to sleep light. Possibly she had lived longer because of it, the fear of undead ambushes or scavenger attacks, keeping her from relaxing even when asleep. She awoke, wide awake and surprisingly refreshed and de-stressed, with the first grey pre-dawn light creeping across the cloudy sky and casting a half-light into the cottage.
Bear lay against her side, his firm, hard, hairy body warming her smooth nakedness. His cock was fully erect and prodding her hip. Without much in the way of forethought, she rolled onto her side and slid down in the large bed then took the shaft deep into her mouth. She gently rolled him onto his back and she sucked hungrily, bobbing her head and taking him into her throat at each downward thrust. He awoke with an aggressive groan and grabbed her head with his big powerful hand, shoving her down roughly and making her gag, grunting as he heard her whimper. Then he seemed to come to his senses and quickly let her up.

"Sorry love, I was still half asleep." He muttered sheepishly, pulling her up to him and kissing her.

She kept one hand on his cock, working the shaft with a deliberate speed and firmness trying to get him off all the same.

"S'all right." She whispered back.

Then he took over, hauling Emily up off him and planting her bodily face down on the duvet and pulling her thighs apart, his hand grasping hold of her arse tightly, fingers pressing into her arse cleavage and pulling her pliant buttocks apart.
So this was it. She decided. He was going to sodomise her now. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was only a matter of time, and she had the vague recollection of her saying it was okay if he wanted to last night. Ah well. She couldn't back out of the offer now.
However, he proved her wrong again. He tossed himself off against her taut young backside, groaning and panting with hoarse exertions and ejaculating within seconds. Emily felt a half dozen splashes of his hot, thick seed striking her buttocks like whip-cracks, coating her from the small of her back to the tops of her thighs. At once the viscous fluid started to trickle over the contours of her succulent flesh, pooling in her arse cleavage and trickling down across the outside of her curvy buttocks.

She wondered if that was him done and where she could go to clean herself up, when she felt him lift her hips from the bed with his arms under the small of her back and bury his face between her pussy lips. And as his tongue started a smooth rhythmic lapping up and down and side to side across her labia, which started to tingle and swell at his oral ministrations, she felt one of his fingers playing with her spunk coated anus.
She was almost as quick as he had been, his breath caressing her swelling pussy, the sensations of his beard, his lips and his tongue, at first against and then inside her tunnel and then when he pushed in deeper was paralleled by his finger-stroking of her puckered arse hole, spreading his cooling spunk across and around the little star-shaped entrance and then penetrating her first one knuckle deep then two, first one finger then two.

He was finger walking her anus, stretching the ring of muscle and teasing her sensitive walls when he wasn't thrusting the two thick digits in and out of her arse while he sucked and hummed and lapped at her free flowing pussy until she writhed and tensed and groaned out a luscious morning climax, a gush of her juices splashed his waiting mouth and he guzzled on her sweet creamy fluid hungrily, which drew out her climax into a second one and left her lying there shivering and quaking and adoring the after glow, while he licked her clean and continued to tease her anal mouth with his fingers.

Bear showed Emily to the cottage's toilet facilities which, though cold, were actually very good. There was also a fresh water sink with hand pumped water and a tin bath with a jury-rigged hand pump shower suspended over it. Not great but better than no shower at all. He told her that, with an assistant, he could rig up heated water for the shower, boiled in a few brass kettles over the fire. There was soap and towels, shampoo and conditioner and deodorant and other items, and plenty of them - salvaged from supermarkets on the mainland but kept for special occasions according to Bear.

They washed each other all over with large sponges, enjoying the eroticism of the activity without getting all serious again. Then they dressed, with Emily pulling out fresh items she had taken from the boat. consisting of steel grey loose legged shorts, sky blue knee high socks with her trusty heavy walking boots and a black empire line sleeveless cotton top with a sequin pattern across the bust, underneath an unbuttoned cotton blouse in a faded royal blue.
Bear pulled on a similar pair of jeans, shirt and threw a thick woollen jumper across his shoulders. His feet shoved into Wellington boots.
The came out of the cottage together and strolled across the yard toward the main house for breakfast, the way apparently, Bear did every morning. There was already smoke wafting out of one of the chimneys and Emily could see movement in the windows to the front left corner of the house.

The door opened to the nostalgic and familiar sounds of the grandfather clock chiming away merrily. That sound brought back scores of memories of good times and great times and a few upsetting times for Emily. But it also made her feel like she was coming home. Coming back to the world that was. Even if it was just for a second.

The grandfather clock was to the right of the front door as it always had been. The door opened to reveal the vestibule with the staircase facing her, the living room, small toilet and study were to the right, the kitchen and dining area were to the left along with an old style pantry and utility room behind the stairs.
Bear led her into the kitchen.

"Morning, ladies. I've brought you a present." He announced with a grin and then stepped aside to reveal Emily.

They froze in place, the three of them, as if time had stopped. And in that frozen moment Emily saw the changes in her Grandmother and her Auntie.

Beatrice Knock looked old and frail, whereas in Emily's memories her Nan had always been a forthright, robust, strong, active and seemingly unstoppable woman. A really inspirational and influential person. Someone to look up to. She had always seemed to be running the farm single handed, always out in the fields or amongst the animals, cooking, cleaning, washing. Now she was supported by a walking stick, her rugged jeans and jackets replaced by knee length skirts and high necked blouses. Though there was the echo of the good looks of her youth in her fine features, they were lined and sunken. Though her fixed sapphire eyes were still clear and alert and full of intelligence and knowledge. However, she seemed to have lost half of her body weight and with it most of her physical strength. The walking stick seemed to be there to support a bad limp on her right side. It was very upsetting for Emily to see her so old and thin and weak.

Sally Parker looked much better, much more how Emily had remembered her. She had never really taken much notice of the ages of her relatives so she could only guess Sally to be around her early or mid forties. She looked more or less how Emily remembered her Grandmother had looked when Emily was growing up. Robust, strong limbed and in Sally's case very curvy. She had straight, collar length, dark blonde hair, though with a hint of a wave, which was brushed back from her face and hooked behind her ears. Wisps of grey camouflaged by the blonde. She was still undeniably attractive, even with the crows feet and the hint of laughter lines. The women of their family had always looked younger than their years. Her nose was straight like Emily's but a little flatter. Her eyebrows plucked and pencilled, her eyes were large and hazel/green. Her lips, the top lip pointed the bottom lip pouting and swollen, were heavily applied and glistened wetly. Her lips, along with her large sultry eyes gave her a slightly slutty look. However, warping her features slightly were injuries that had somewhat uglied her looks, at least until they healed. Her left cheek was slightly swollen, right eye puffy and bruised and there was a scabbed line though her bottom lip where it had been split and was healing.

Accentuating the slutty look was her figure and clothing. She had a typical hourglass bombshell figure, even putting the likes of Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield to shame. With a white v-neck t-shirt, showing her figure and suggesting a distinct lack of bra. The loose cotton trousers were an attempt at a more conservative look but the hipster cut and snug, clinging fit to her thighs and buttocks, didn't do much to hide her bodacious curves. Emily felt simultaneously jealous and disapproving of her Auntie's dress sense.
And then time caught up again as the two women turned, looked and finally recognised the young newcomer, as Bear stepped out of the way and walked past them.

"Em?! Emily!? Oh my God! I can't believe it!"
Beatrice hobbled across the kitchen, threw her walking stick to the side and tried to pick Emily up in a big hug.
"Hiya Nan." Emily mumbled embarrassedly as she returned the loving embrace.
"Oh my first born Granddaughter. Alive and in my house. Oh praise the Lord!" Bea gushed.

Tears were free-flowing, Bea overwhelmed by her granddaughter's out of the blue appearance. Then it was Auntie Sal's turn.

"Emily! We'd given up hope of anyone else surviving, let alone making their way here! Jesus I can't believe you're actually here!"
"Hiya Auntie Sal."
Bea reluctantly stepped back to allow her daughter and granddaughter room to meet and greet.
"I can't believe it. I just can't believe you're alive!"
"It's good to see you Auntie Sal. I didn't know you were here until Bear told me."

More hugs and kisses followed.

Smiling, Bear took himself off to the side while the family reunion ran its course. He busied himself taking over the breakfast duties over the old reliable wood-burning stove and the frying pans, one pan full of eggs and the other thick with hand carved rashers of bacon. At the side of the stove the large ceramic teapot was brewing away. Bear drew four mugs together from an old shelf by the window and started to pour the tea.

"Isn't Dean with you? Is there no one else?" Sally asked Emily, fear and panic rearing behind her wide eyes. One of them purple and swollen with a nasty bruise.
"No. Dean... He didn't make it." Emily said in little more than a grief tainted whisper. "He was killed by zombies a few days ago. There was another lad helping me but he turned yesterday. Or the day before, it's hard to remember. There's just me though. No one else."
"Oh honey, I'm sorry." Bea went over to give Emily yet another hug. A consoling one this time. "We don't need anyone else dear. Just you." Bea added.

She gave loving, welcoming smile and the hearty hug that Emily accepted gratefully, tears starting to flow, as the three of them grew overwhelmed though joyful at the reunion.

Eventually they pulled apart and settled down around the heavy duty oak dining table, each one taking a compass point seat. Bear with his back to the window, facing Bea who had her back to the rest of the house. Emily and Sally faced each other. Bea shovelled out the eggs and sea-salted bacon and some mushrooms onto four plates, with home made bread and home churned butter. While Bear shared out the mugs of tea, offering the jug of freshly squeezed cow's milk.

"No sugar of course." He mentioned to the youngest of the group, apologetically.
Emily just shrugged and smiled back at him. She felt weird. Numbed as if nothing was quite real, as if she was in a dream. It was a strange feeling.
"I haven't had sugar in years." She replied. "Or coffee. Or milk, except baby formula stuff... Horrible stuff that."

They laughed and Emily smiled back heartened and a little embarrassed at the same time. She felt like she had forgotten all the social niceties since the world ended. Had forgotten how to do small talk and make conversation. While the others chatted away, Emily felt like the child in the room in a typical "quiet girl, the grown-ups are talking." situation. She kept her mouth shut and focussed on eating. And trying not to be led by her desire to stare at big, hunky, loveable Bear Andrews.

That desire brought back feelings of guilt that almost made Emily loose her appetite. She had lost her boyfriend mere days ago and had, since then, jumped into bed with two different men. Plus there was another layer of guilt, that she was here in this place of safety, the place and the situation, the future that she and Dean had talked about, planned, dreamed of for almost as long as she could remember. It had sustained them, food for the mind. Hope. And now here she was, safe and well and with her family again, ready to start living that dream. And Dean wasn't here to live it with her.

"We should celebrate! Sal, is there any chocolate left?" Bea asked. Sally shook her head sadly.
"The twins took it all."
"Little shits..." Bea spat. "Something definitely needs to be done about those two..."
"We would have the perfect place here if it wasn't for those two. No zombies, plenty of food and water. Shelter, safety. And each other." Bear added.
"But we need them...We can't keep on top of things without them. You know all this." Sally sighed heavily.
"So this place is clear of zombies then?" Emily piped in.
"Oh yes. There were a couple to begin with but we took care of them and reburied them." Bea said with a touch of melancholy at the memory.
Emily wondered if she was referring to Granddad. He was buried on the island.
"They don't, like, swim across from the mainland or anything?"
"Oh no." Bear put in. "But even if they did, kiddo. They'd be so bloated and rotten by the sea water and chewed on by fish and sharks and the like that there wouldn't be much left, they wouldn't be able to get past the beach I'd say. We're as safe here as anybody can be."
"Well, now that Emily's here. We can get rid of those little shits once and for all now, can't we!?" Bea suggested, steering the conversation back to the twins.
"No we can't mum. Can we?" Sally looked across at Bear. "Are three of us enough to keep this place running?"
"Em's young and fit. You're still young and fit Sally, And we still have our 'Ox' here. Even one handed, he has the strength and skill of two..." Bea put in.
"We'll all have to work extra hard of course, but I'm reasonably certain it can be done." Bear assessed.
"Such a shame about Dean though, we were counting on having another man around the place..." Sally sighed.
"I would have brought him if I could, Auntie Sal." Emily sniffled half guilty, half grieving.
"Oh honey, I know you would. I'm sorry honey, that was insensitive of me."
"It's okay. Honest."

Emily watched Sally as they ate their breakfast. She still seemed almost distraught at Emily being the only person to make it to the farm. She assumed her Auntie had hoped, for a moment, for that Dean's arrival would have not only been able to take up the workload of the twins, making them obsolete, but also to stand up to them and turf them off the island once and for all.

She already knew that Auntie Sal was the twins' recompense for their daily grind on the farm, fucking her however and whenever they desired. And by the looks of her injuries they were none to gentle with her. Emily wondered momentarily what she must look like under her clothes. She was probably mottled with welts and bruises and bite marks. She thought to herself that the sexually provocative and revealing clothing, and more than likely the lack of bra, was under instructions from the twins themselves. She was probably made to dress that way.
They had everyone over a barrel it seemed, Sally could neither turn down any of their demands or refuse them, in case they decided not to help on the farm, leaving the place run by a one handed man, a forty something woman and a seventy something woman who could barely walk around. That and the constant threat of violence of course.

Sally seemed stunned though, she kept looking around, into shadows, at the door, out of the windows, as if she hoped or expected more people were going to arrive after all. It was as if a flurry of renewed hope had suddenly been dashed when Emily had told them she was alone. Either that or she was afraid of the twins turning up unexpectedly. Emily was concerned about that too, but she had no illusions that Bear would protect her from them if any there was any suggestion of trouble. Besides, who's to say she couldn't protect herself from them? She had weapons and some experience of how to use them now. Who's to say she would need protecting?
The conversation petered out, Sally's disappointment infecting the other two and bringing down the excitement that Emily's arrival had brought about. Only Bear maintained some optimism.

"The bottom line is that with Emily here we should have the manpower, 'scuse the sexism, to not need the twins any more, but they have a good thing going here." Bear said, nodding toward Sally who blushed and focussed on the last scraps of her breakfast. "And getting them to leave us be isn't going to be easy."
"So threaten them! or kill them both. The rules are different now. It's all survival of the fittest out there. Why should it be any different here?" Emily offered.
"That's just it though. Sal and Bea aren't killers, and I don't want you getting your hands dirty either. I have only one hand and I'm not as young as I was. And then you have the twins. Those pricks are young, strong, fast, sadistic." Bear said, ignoring the little grunt Sally gave at his use of the word sadistic.
"And they're always armed. They have guns and handcuffs, picked 'em off two armed police zombies who knows where." Sally said.
"We can get rid of them but we have to bide our time, look for an opportunity." Bear confirmed.
"And what, in the meantime Auntie Sal is raped and abused on a daily basis?" Emily gaped.
"I can handle them!" Sal snapped defensively. "They're just boisterous kids. I've dealt with worse in the past."

Emily remembered overhearing whispered rumours about Sally's first husband, but she kept her mouth shut and drained her tea mug instead.
The conversation seemed to be over and they drifted apart, Bea and Bear cleared up, washed and put away the dishes, while Sally went out to check on some of the animals. Emily remembered her back pack with her supplies and fetched them for her Nan.
By the time the supplies had been identified and put away Sally was back in the kitchen and Bea was in her study. Bear offered to show Emily around the farm before work started. Before they got to the door Bear paused next to a small corner-positioned chest of drawers by the front door, he pulled open a drawer and handed Emily a wristwatch.

"Take one of these. It's really only for meal times if we're out in the fields. Or, say if we have to meet up at specific times, that kind of thing." She took it with a smile and looked it over.
"It's an old wind up one, from before your time I suppose." He said with a wry grin.
"Thanks, looks familiar..." She said thoughtfully.
"Could have been your granddad's. I'm always looking out for them on supply trips, wind ups only though."
"Yeah, could have been granddad's maybe..."
"We all wear one, usually synchronise and wind the spring before breakfast each morning. One of our little rituals. Right, enough chatting, let's make a move."

<><><>

They didn't talk much, other than about the places Bear showed her and their functions. A smoke house, various sheds and storage buildings. He explained the smoke house as well as how they got salt by evaporating sea water. The miniature flour mill, another shed where butter was churned. Similar farm stuff.

His prize building however, was his own smithy and workshop, where he made and repaired tools and equipment. He was a self-trained blacksmith but had discovered a natural ability early on. In the smithy he showed her his latest project - a kind of prosthetic hand replacement. It looked a little like a handcuff, a gripping ratchet but instead of a key to lock and unlock its grippers, it had a kind of switch-lock, a little wheel that turned clockwise or anti-clockwise. The mechanism was complete and, according to Bear, worked well but the method of comfortably attaching it to his wrist stump was unfinished.

Emily wanted nothing more than to kiss him, pull him into her arms, rub his cock until it was at full stretch and them have him shove it inside her. But something held her back, maybe her Auntie and Nan discovering them and thinking her a slut for jumping into Bear's bed just days after loosing Dean. Or maybe it was her own guilt? Jay had been different, that had been survival, necessity. But this thing with Bear, whatever it was or was becoming, was something else entirely.

"Does Nan get to help much? This farm has always been her life." She asked, mostly to distract herself.

"Yeah, but mostly with advice. I'm sure you noticed how hard she finds it to move around these days. She spends most of her time writing down her knowledge and skills of farming techniques and cooking, survival, that sort of thing. Bit of a cliché but she's forgotten more stuff about traditional farming methods than most stuffy historians ever learned. And she won't live for ever so she's been writing a book for future generations. You. Your kids maybe."

That made her blush. Especially with Bear himself being the only resident male on the island any more.

"Anyway, we'd better head back, Em. We need to get you safely hidden away before the twins turn up."
"Suppose you're right."
"Be just our luck for them to turn up early." Bear grunted, none too seriously.

They were crossing a small patch of higher ground, a well kept lawn raised up and walled off around the back of the house, returning from the tour of the outbuildings and heading back toward the kitchen when Bear stopped her.

"Aww hell, they're already here." He grunted, hurriedly shoving Emily behind him.

The height of the raised lawn gave a perfect view into the kitchen and across the dining table. And in the split second between Emily seeing in through kitchen window and being dragged bodily around behind Bear's bulk, she saw the twins, and her Aunt.

The twins, muscular lads with blonde wavy hair, had Aunt Sally stripped naked on her back, spread out on the table. Though they weren't identical they were very alike, sporting bird-like faces, pinched, with long thin noses, thin lips, wide spread brown eyes and sallow cheeks. One had longish hair in a pony tail, the other kept his collar length and had a more distinct wave to it. Both were tanned naturally by long hours of shirtless outdoor labour.

In the snapshot that Emily caught, The pony tailed one, who Emily thought was Simon, was straddling Sally's bare ribs and he had her legs hooked, held up and spread wide by the crooks of his elbows interlocking with the backs of her knees. All the while he had her obediently shoving her huge, naked breasts together around his erect cock, which by the colour and the telling glisten from the morning light, he had lubricated with cooking oil or animal fat or something. He had her crushing her huge breasts tightly around his erection, completely enclosing his cock, while he rammed his hips vigorously forward and back.
The other twin, Gary, was standing at the foot of the table where Sally's naked arse hung off the edge and was zealously fucking her, hell for leather, with both hands gripping vice tight on the pliant cheeks of her lush, fleshy bottom, fingers digging in hard, clawing at her flesh like talons, pulling her onto each hard crashing thrust.
In that last millisecond as Emily's view became blocked by Bear's massive bulk, Emily saw pony tailed McMann's head turn toward her and stop, looking right in her direction.

"Did they see me?" She whispered, suddenly fearful, as she ducked down low and scuttled across the lawn and out of sight of the window.

Bear walked alongside her, keeping himself between her and the kitchen, watching the window and back door for signs of movement, presenting a casual front but feeling far from it.

"I don't know, Em. I don't think so. But I'm not certain." He replied, through tight lips. "They aren't following though. Guess we got lucky."
"Where am I meant to hide then?"
"I thought of putting you in my cottage but if they try the door and find it locked from inside they'll get suspicious. I'll have to sneak you past them and up into one of the spare rooms in the main house, I suppose. You should be safe there."

The back door burst open with a loud and heart skipping crash and before Emily could react, one of the twins was springing across the garden toward Bear and herself. With one hand he was tightening the belt around his slender waist securing his jeans in place, the other hand was occupied by a dark metallic bulk.

"Run! Go!" Bear grunted back at Emily.

[Nickamano]

Chapter 4

Emily didn't need telling twice. She sprang to her feet, turned and sprinted toward the side of the house. She heard a shout, a grunt and a wet slap and in the reflections of the ground floor windows she caught a glimpse of Bear struck by the dark something in the twin's hand and crash to the rolling, muddy grass. He went down hard. But then Emily was around the side of the building and couldn't see any more.

She ran full pelt, thinking ahead to Bear's cottage and the weapons on the walls, her own weapons and supplies left there. As she emerged from the side of the house, rain starting to sprinkle down on her. Thoughts had come into her head, that her supplies but not her weapons were now in the main house, that the twin that had come after had been Gary, in the reflection she had seen loose flowing waves of platinum blonde hair. There had been no pony tail. But the thought flitted out of her head as quickly as it had popped in there. What remained and hurriedly grew like the pain of indigestion in her guts was that reflected image of Bear going down and going down hard. Her imagination started to paint in blood flow, splashes and then rivers of crimson trickling from his scalp and into his glassy, blood-shot eyes.

The increasingly horrifying image was lashed from her attention as she rounded the side of the house and came into view of the front door, swinging open, the heavy oak slamming back on its hinges. And the other twin who stood in the doorway with another of those dark metallic shapes in one hand and Emily's grandmother's throat in the other.
She ran on, not knowing what else to do. Simon, the twin at the front door was shouting something at her. She didn't hear what it was just noise, aggressive, violent, threatening. But as she ran the realisation grew in her, her grandmother's life was under threat. He could hurt her if Emily ran on.
But then she heard a zing off to her left as, at the same time, there was a loud and echoing crack from behind her. And then another and at her left leg something zinged off a large water carved stone that formed a pathway marker, flecks of stone chips and dust burst in all directions as another loud crack filled the air. She knew what it was, knew instinctively what those metallic shapes were. Guns.

"The next one goes in the old woman!" Came the yell from behind her and Emily's grandmother let out a fearful kind of whimpering moan.

Emily allowed the pace to leave her, slowing, giving up. Her head fell, shoulders slumped and then her hands came up in submission. She turned around and slowly made her way back to the house.

She was grabbed by the hair and nearly yanked off her feet. She let out a shriek but was ignored by Simon. She was pulled into the hallway as her grandmother was shoved to one side. From the kitchen Gary appeared alongside Sally who stood there, naked, with just her pristine white-shirt pressed up against her naked torso. The forearm across her immense bosom bulged the huge orbs out all over the place but her nipples were hidden. And the hem of the garment didn't quite reach to mid thigh but just about covered her pubic mound.

"Bro. Get her and him locked up down here then bring Sal up to our room. We're gonna celebrate bro!"

Emily assumed the 'her and him' must be Bear and her Grandmother. And she took it to mean Bear must be alright. Even though what she had witnessed had been an outright pistol whipping.

"All fuckin' day mate!" The other twin replied, the glee in his voice obvious to everyone. "Don't start on that one without me. I've waited years to get on her."
"You an' me both bro, you an' me both."
"C'mon Em, time to get reacquainted." Simon said, his excitement warming the tone of his voice. "You had this coming a long time, y'know. Fer years we've wanked off over you, adolescents with the raging horn, you know how it is. All those memories."

He continued as he pushed her ahead of him across the vestibule toward the dark wood stair case.

"Those summers when we'd hang out, you in skimpy outfits and bikinis when it got hot. Wanked off so many times thinking about getting you naked, gettin' yer lips around my dick, getting up inside you. Fuckin' you in the arse. You've got a lot of fantasies to catch up on, Em. Hope you've got the stamina. 'cause we sure as fuckin' well have!"

And with that he shoved her up firmly against the wall, halfway up the stairs and pressed himself up hard against her body, one hand still gripping her by the hair, the other roaming her curves, while he engulfed her lips with his in a horny and aggressive French kiss. A rapist's kiss.
Simon was forceful with his lips and pushed deep with his invasive tongue, moaning, loud and unrepentant, voicing his long pent up lust for Emily.
His free hand flicked aside the front of her open shirt and then rummaged under the loose hem of the black top, the sequins showing off her meagre curves the way only sequins can. Without pause he burrowed under the cups of her bra, then clamped firmly onto a soft, warm breast, his compressing fingers brutal in their vice-grip on her perky orb.
Her breasts felt clammy, warmed by her fear and sweaty from her desperate sprint moments earlier. Simon found and pulled at and twisted her hot nipples cruelly, until they were good and stiff.
Emily whimpered and mewled at his painful caresses and the horrible, vile worming of his wet flicking tongue in her mouth.
He pulled away for a moment, just his mouth, the rest of his body and both hands still shoved up tight against her soft, alluring warmth.

"You better do what we say or poor granny's gonna suffer." He warned. "That fuckin' cripple too!"

Shivering in her captivity, unable to do anything, Emily nodded in response, the movement freeing brimming tears, that cascaded down her shame flushed cheeks.

Again, all she wanted to do was to run. To get this vile bastard off her, but the twins had her over a barrel with her Nan and Bear being captives, and they all knew it. She couldn't risk either of them being hurt or worse. She had no choice but to go along with the twins' demands.

While Simon started to forcibly French kiss her again and molest her breasts some more, Emily found herself thinking about Bear and about how, to her, he had been a saviour and protector, someone she could rely on to keep her safe. But right now she was once again trapped, a sexual slave to evil, lust crazed men and it was Bear who had put her in this position by failing to protect her and right now being unable to save her. He had proved himself to be too weak to be a protector for her. Maybe it had been the loss of the hand that had done it, sapped his strength, made him weak to the twins. Afraid of them. Bear loosing his hand had been like Samson loosing his hair. Logically she understood it well enough, but inside she found herself resenting him for failing her all the same.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by the other twin, Gary, leading her Nan and Bear by gun point, across the vestibule below her away from the kitchen towards Nan's sitting room. There was a lot of blood trickling down half of Bear's face. And a nasty looking gash across his scalp. He was dabbing at the wound with a dish cloth and was supported by her Nan. Sally stood there too, like a statue, awaiting instructions, just as defeated by the twins.

In that half second's glimpse of them, Emily felt searing pangs of guilt for blaming Bear for his inability to protect her. It wasn't his fault. The twins were younger and stronger and armed. There hadn't been anything he could have done in those circumstances.
Emily was shocked back into the here and now by Simon, still with his thick wet tongue invading her mouth, shoving his free hand down the elastic waist band of her cotton shorts, under the thin fabric of her underwear and into the soft, sweaty warmth of her pubic mound.
His fingers caressed her pubic hair, pulling gently and then stroking and clutching the soft wiry down between his fingers. Then he pushed deeper, spreading her lips, teasing her clitoris, feeling lower until he wormed his way to the entrance to her pussy. He circled the hot, pliant entrance with his finger tip and then pushed in and up hard, pressing the whole digit inside, as far as he could get. And groaned at the feel of her soft heat grasping his probing digit, even as Emily winced and let out a pained hiss into his rampant, tonguing mouth.

"Right, enough of this. Upstairs." Simon grunted, finally putting a stop to his rancid, depraved kisses.

He unnecessarily used a grip of her hair to turn and pull her alongside him, up the staircase Emily remembered so fondly from her times spent here on holiday, hopping into her bed where her grandfather would tuck her in with hot milk and a chapter of whatever book she had brought with her. But this time. The man escorting her to bed tugged harshly, impatiently on her hair, keeping her afraid and off balance, while his free hand continued to roam around her ripe young body.

As she stumbled forward, stubbing a toe on a step, he shoved his hand down the rear of her loose shorts and gave her firm, fleshy buttocks a good fondle, squeezing and stroking, then feeling between them for her anus and treating the tight puckered star to the same digital assault he had done with her pussy. Holding her still, he drove the finger in hard, pushing it into the tight anal heat, all the way, until his knuckles mashed into the inner curves of her buttocks. She whimpered again, gritting her teeth and blowing out a harsh breath while grasping tight onto the bannister. His finger started to thrust, stabbing into her, hard, over and over again like a piston.

"You know you're gonna get it in every hole, don't you." He muttered, gutturally, expressing intent rather than a question.

Emily hadn't expected anything less. And it weighed heavily on her.

Once again she was the sexual slave to perverted and evil bastards, just like the harbour town from a couple of days ago and two previous occasions when Dean and Jay had rescued her from those horny, deranged scavengers who had caught her unawares and out of sight of her protectors. She remembered those occasions as well as the lessons she had learned from them.

The first time they had all been shuffling quietly through a small town supermarket, shopping for left over foodstuffs and other supplies. She had been looking through the small chemist section for medicines and medical supplies when the five men had appeared out of nowhere, she had deduced later that they had seen Jay, Dean and herself coming and had hidden in the chemists' interview room to wait for an opportunity. She had been grabbed, her scream and airway silenced by a rough hand pressed hard over her nose and mouth. And then she had been pulled to the floor, dragged back into the interview room, the well oiled door gently pushed closed. In the short few minutes between her abduction and Jay discovering her whereabouts and killing the gang with crossbow, knife and short bladed sword, she had been fingered, stroked, squeezed, pinched, slapped, molested, half stripped, had erections rubbed against her, her pants pulled down to her knees and then thrown face down over someone's lap. She had felt the hot hardness of an erect cock pressed in between her naked buttocks when Jay had interrupted them and saved her with a surprise assault of his own.
Of course, shocked and tearful, it had been Dean's arms she had run into and it had been his body she had demonstrated her gratitude to rather than Jay's later that evening. At the time she had thought Jay had just been doing his job, and of course she would never have cheated on her boyfriend just to say thank you, even knowing full well that it had been what Jay had desired the most. Though, looking back, she could recognise the unfairness of it.

The other incident had been more or less the same. She had slipped away during one of their woodland treks to empty her bladder, and a lone man had come out of the muddy stream bed, a random unfortunate encounter, and snatched her, shoved her face down into the mud and mounted her then and there, like some desperate animal. He had successfully penetrated her vagina while, shoving her face into the sour, pungent mud, and she had been gagging and spluttering around mouthfuls the stuff when Dean had discovered him. He and Jay had dragged the man off her and drowned him in the stream, then Jay had cut off his head to stop him rising again while Dean had ransacked his belongings and, eventually, come over to comfort Emily.

And now she was in the same fix only, unlike those previous occasions, there was no Dean or Jay to rescue her. Only Bear. And he was being locked up downstairs and seemed to have already had all the fight beaten out of him. This was it, she realised with a horrifying level of clarity. She had avoided or escaped the life of a sexual slave so far, even if by the skin of her teeth, but now there was no escape, no saviour. There was just dicks and spunk and pain and abuse and beatings and depravity for the rest of what would no doubt be a short and cruel life.
She didn't even feel like she could muster the strength to cry. She just allowed herself to be marched, partially dragged by the hair, up the stairs and onward into the master bedroom.

The master bedroom was traditional, ancient, treated oak beams half sunk in white washed rough plaster, with an assortment of dark framed photographs and reproduction paintings of landscapes and seascapes adorning the walls. A large dark wood wardrobe and chests of drawers to match. There were flowery curtains and carpets and a rug. A flowery bed spread with chintz doilies underneath the bedside lamps and on the dressing table under the window and a large white lace throw across the neatly made bed. The room was almost rank with the scent of sex.

Emily was shoved in the back and stumbled into the room. Simon stood just in the doorway smirking at her, his eyes looking her up and down with obvious and powerful lust burning behind them.

"Right, Em. Strip." He said.
"Please... I... "

He abruptly stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face, a heavy slung, open palmed assault that came hard from his shoulder and whipped Emily's head around on her neck. Her face stung terribly but it was the shock of physical violence that was the most dramatic outcome. She burst into tears, cupping her swelling cheek and rearing back from Simon, shaking and weeping in response to the assault.

"No back chat Em." He scalded with a little laugh. "But you cry all you want, you'll be crying anyway once my dick's ramming in yer throat. Now. Get. Yer. Fuckin'. Clothes off!"

Sniffing and sore and defeated by fear and violence, she began to take her clothes off while Simon stood there a couple of feet away and between her and the door, watching with a horny smirk and lust drowned eyes.
She shrugged off the opened shorts and pulled the empire line top over her head them bent for her boot laces. Simon came in close, brushing his bulging hard on against the top of her head and cupping one of her bra encased breasts while she unlaced her boots and kicked them off one at a time.

"Leave the knee socks on. Get rid of the rest." He grunted, stepping back to give her room to obey.

Once naked, apart from the sky blue knee socks, she looked up at him for further instructions.

"On your knees, put your back to the wardrobe." He said. "You're gonna get face fucked for starters."
"Okay... Okay. Just, please don't hurt me." She pleaded.
"Huh. No promises." He replied with a cruel laugh.

Trying to fight back a rising panic and trying to lock herself deep inside where she wouldn't feel anything, Emily took up the instructed position, sitting on the floor with her legs spread apart and her back hard against the cold but solid wood of the wardrobe alongside the door.
He stepped in close, between her spread thighs and opened his trousers. An erect cock swung out into the open. It was thick but of average length, though to Emily, being inches from her face it looked huge. Thickly veined and pulsing visibly, the foreskin was rolled halfway back and the jutting crown looked swollen and almost purple.
She reached up and gripped the root in one fist, the other cupping his distended scrotum. She had a mere moment of holding it and it felt both hot and hard against her palm, then Simon slapped her hand away harshly and wrapped both hands around the back of her head.

"Keep your hands to yourself. Either finger yourself while I fuck your face or sit on your hands or something. Mouth only." He grunted.

Emily shivered at her sense of powerlessness, the mix of humiliation and shame, of recognising herself as nothing more than a slave, a vessel for men's cocks. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue out and a moment later Simon thrust forward and drove his erect cock past her lips and on into her tight throat. She gagged as her mouth filled with saliva, coating his cock and trickling down her gullet.

"Ahhh... Ohhh Fuck, that's good! ...And watch your teeth, Em. Unless you wanna loose 'em." He added.

There was no way, given the choice, that she was going to masturbate while getting her throat raped so she let her hands fall loosely on the outside of her hips and concentrated on making it as easy for herself as she could.

She had taken face fucks before - from the gang at the harbour town, or had that been from a dream? Jay had definitely done it to her, and Dean had often enjoyed quite enjoyed doing it to her too, so she had learned about getting her head at a good smooth angle, at keeping plenty of saliva to lubricate the thrusting invader, though not so much that she choke on the stuff. And most important of all to take breaths at every possible opportunity.
Dean had been a bastard for that, he'd all too often get carried away with rapid deep thrusting that he'd forget that she had needed to breathe and more than once she had almost passed out with his erection stuffed halfway down her gullet and plugging up her airway. Of course, she had been too dumb and loved up to push him off or berate him for his selfishness. This time around she knew she wouldn't be given a choice so she would have to take any opportunity she could.
Her eyes bulged as she took the cock into her oesophagus, the bloated crown pushing her throat wider and jamming itself all the way in with a hard thrust of his hips that smacked the back of her head against the wardrobe door. He laughed and repeated the hip thrust, trying to increase the force of skull on wood.

"Oh yeah, that's it. Tongue my balls when they hit yer chin." He said.

She obeyed and his throaty groan of pleasure made her squirm inside with shame and disgust. He held her head tighter, pushing her back against the wardrobe and then started to ram with his hips, bruising the back of her mouth. She gargled and spluttered. Each rapid out-stroke drew a stream of hot bubbly saliva from between her lips to dribble down her chin and throat and coat her breasts and belly.
He pumped her face faster and faster, thrusting so hard into her throat that she felt dizzy and disoriented and her oesophagus was starting to burn.

"Oh fuck! You take that dick, Em! You take it all!" He groaned, wheezing and aggressively horny, staring down at her. "You always looked like a right dirty bitch when I was growing up. Knew you'd turn out to be one! Ohhhh! Fuck!"

There were tears streaming down her squeezed shut eyes, mingling with the ropes of saliva covering the lower half of her face, the mucus streaming from her nostrils while he raped her throat.

"Open your eyes. Look at me!" He snapped, letting go of her head and grabbing the edges of of the wardrobe while the hard thrusting continued.

Emily stared up at him, her vision blurring through her tears and lack of oxygen. She felt dizzy and queasy.

They were interrupted by Auntie Sal being shoved forward into the bedroom, along with Gary bringing up the rear. The latter had a plastic shopping bag with him that looked heavy and clinked with a dull metallic sound as he pushed past. Emily watched them come past her threw her curtain of tears and in between the hard thrusts of Simon's pounding hips, that rhythmically revealed and blocked her view. Inexplicably, it reminded her of those flip book animations that her Nan used to draw for her as a kid. Simon carried on assaulting her throat, with both hands tight on her head again, pulling at her hair and driving his erection all the way in, mashing her flushed face into his solid abdominal muscles.

"Tits out and on the bed, Sal. You know the drill." Emily heard Gary grunt. "Hey bro, you really going at it. You really wanna be shooting your load in the first few minutes?"
"Nah, just giving her throat a bit of an initiation."
"Fair 'nuff."

But Simon seemed to take the hint all the same and suddenly yanked his shaft from the back of Emily's throat, let go of her and stepped back.
Emily immediately collapsed into a weeping, coughing frenzy. She felt rather than saw one of the twins pass her, shut the bedroom door and heard him lock it from inside. She had no idea what became of the key. Eventually, her fits of coughing and choking on her own saliva died down and she achingly wiped her drool slick face on the back of her arm and looked up, trying to focus through her tears and trembling.

Aunt Sal was on her back on the bed propped up on pillows lifting her upper torso against the bedstead. Gary was astride her, standing on the bed and fucking her face as brutally and deeply as Simon had been raping Emily's. Simon himself was lying across the other end of Sally's body like an inverted 'T' and he was already driving his drool slick erection into her pussy with fast, hard power-thrusts. All the while, the room was full of the creaking of the bedsprings, loud slapping sounds of flesh on flesh, the horny grunts of the twins and the harsh wet gagging noise from Sally's labouring throat.

"Hey, Em. Get up here! Get your mouth down here!" Simon growled glancing back over his shoulder at the younger woman.
"Wait. You're expecting me to do this in front of my Auntie?!"
"No, we're expecting you to do this with your Auntie! Now get up on the bed and lick her pussy until she's all juiced up and ready to pop." Simon snapped, pulling out of Emily's Aunt and giving the younger woman room.

Emily once again fought down her panic and urgent need to flee and hesitantly clambered up onto the bed. Meanwhile Gary had paused in his throat assault of the busty Aunt and was slapping his soggy erection against her flushed face.

"C'mon Sal, what're you waiting for, get yer tits lubed up!" He growled down at the older woman.

As if in response to his gleeful and malicious command she, looking a bit green around the gills, gulped and stared up at him with pleading doe eyes. Unconcerned, he grabbed her slack jaw and stuffed three fingers into the back of her mouth. Sally knew what he wanted and this time she allowed the gag reflex to take effect and suddenly she vomited a gut-full of bubbly saliva and slimed up mucus all over herself. It splattered thickly over her chest, coating her breasts and oozing down into the cleft between them.
Laughing, Gary grabbed her now lubricated breasts and wrapped the two huge orbs around his thick, pulsing erection.
Emily's view was obscured by Gary's thrusting arse so she obediently though grudgingly, lowered her face between her Aunt's spread thighs and started to lick and kiss the older woman's labia, nuzzling her pursed lips between Sally's until she found the slightly tangy taste of her vaginal entrance.

Trying to remember the way Bear had tongue-lashed her yesterday, what Jay had done in the house where they'd first fucked and what she herself enjoyed on the handful of times she had received oral play over the years, Emily went to town on her Aunt. She penetrated her with her tongue, stabbing deep and scooping out building juices. Using lots of saliva, she slick-licked the length and breadth of her pussy lips, probing, lapping, using different parts of her tongue before she change tactic and focussed on her clit.
She could hear a rapid squelching from Gary's tit fucking and an increased panting from Sally that corresponded to the amounts of pussy juice that was seeping from her and unreeling over Emily's tongue.

She felt Simon getting up onto the bed behind her, his hands on her ass, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her upward so her hips were level with his. Her knee high socks had already been dragged down past her calves and hung loosely so Simon wasted a moment to yank them off her feet. But his interest lay elsewhere. He squeezed her arse hard in both hands, fingered her pussy. He spat on her anus, then fingered the tighter orifice too. All the while Emily concentrated on licking quick little circles around and across her busty Aunt's clitoris.
Simon spanked her harshly, a half dozen times, forcing whimpers of pain from Emily and then drove his erection into her pussy with a single, powerful, all the way in thrust.

"Sal's a naughty one, Em. Likes a proper hard clit-lashing, so get your tongue right on it, and suck on it too. you'll soon have her all aquiver." He commented as he began to fuck Emily, aggressively, doggie style.

Emily - rocking back and forward on her knees and elbows to the quick beat of Simon's pummelling hips, her hands gripping the soft flesh of her Aunt's inner thighs and with the nape of her neck already aching from the strained position of her head - did as she was instructed and flicked her tongue back and forth across Sally's swollen clitoris. At once she felt responsive tremors and tensing in the corded muscles of her Auntie's inner thighs, though Sally remained almost silent.
Emily focussed on what she was doing, trying not to think of her own predicament, trying not to think of who it was she was going down on, trying to ignore Simon vigorously raping her from behind. His hands were all over her, his thick shaft slamming into her, meagrely lubricated by the vestigial remains of her saliva. His fingers pinching her nipples or piercing her anus and probing deep, palms slapping down hard on her pulverised arse cheeks. He was constantly growling at her, either instructions to fuck herself back onto him, ever harder and faster or spitting nasty vulgar insults, calling her a worthless whore, meaty slut, cum bucket, cock sheath, slag, bitch, slut...

Emily knew when Gary had climaxed, but only from noises and a glimpse of movement. First his weight shifted, making the bed moan in protest, his thrusting arse lifted up out of Emily's peripheral vision and then Auntie Sal started choking out horrendous gagging noises as Gary made her deep throat him until, with a growling moan, he emptied his load down her throat.
A moment later Emily was grabbed by the scalp, her head pulled painfully back and her whole body wheeled around ninety degrees so she faced the door.

"Open your ass Sal, time for the good stuff!" Emily heard Gary say.

Holding her firmly in the new position at the foot of the bed, Simon continued to slam into Emily doggie style, painfully clawing at her pliant bottom and tugging on the grip of her short hair.

Emily heard Sally let out a kind of animalistic braying noise as Gary shoved his shaft up her arse but after that any sound she made was drowned out by the grunts, laughter and degrading insults from the twins.
Gary's enjoyment of the forced sodomy soon influenced Simon to follow his brother's lead. However, the first Emily knew of it was when two lubricated fingers were pushed up her bottom and started to spread apart, attempting to stretch her rectum in preparation.
It was a half hearted preparation though as, after a few seconds, his fingers were dragged out, then he pulled his substantial erection out of her freshly raped pussy and slapped his heavy, hot crown against her sphincter mouth.

"Hey bro! Who says dreams don't come true!?" Simon announced with a laugh. "...Been waiting years to fuck this arse, haven't we!"

And Gary glanced back over his shoulder to grin at the sight of his brother smacking Emily's anal mouth with the weighty club-head of his cock.

"Hey, Em," Simon grunted, tugging on her hair to grab her attention, she turned her head as far as he would allow to look back at him. "I've been waiting years to fuck you up the arse. And now it's actually happening!"

Emily said, nothing, just turned her head away from his malevolent expression, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax her back-door. As he said, it was going to happen, she had no doubt of that, and what was the point in making it even more painful for herself and trying to resist?
He positioned his cock head and started pushing hard. Emily's anus, though burning with stinging pain, began to open for him a little at a time.

"Take it!" He grunted as he slowly forced his shaft up her bottom, driving inch after inch inside her anus until he was balls deep. "...Finally!"
"How is she?" Gary called across the bed, still rutting Sally's ass hole in an intimate and intimidating nose-to-nose missionary position.
"Fuck bro, I've got my dick up Emily O'Brian's arse!... And she's really fucking tight!"

Simon grunted, already starting to build up a vigorous, deep thrusting pace.

"Remember that teenager we rescued last year?" He elaborated, putting an ironic spin on the word 'rescued'. "This tops hers! Fuck yeah! This is gonna be great!"
"You've had it up the arse before haven't you Em? I can tell, still well fucking tight though!" He wasn't asking questions really. "We always knew you were a dirty one, just something about you back in the day, the way you'd flirt with us, showing off your tits and arse in those bikinis when you'd sunbath on the rocks. Not surprising this ain't the first dick to plough your arse. Bet every lad who's ever been on a date with you had fucked your arse. First date anal slut! Well bitch? Am I right...?"

Emily didn't answer, he was just turning himself on more by painting pictures of what he wanted her to be.

"...I am, aren't I?!" He snapped, yanking painfully on her hair.
"Yes!" Emily yelped desperately.
"Say it then!"
"Every boy I've dated has put it up my arse!" She squealed as he yanked harder on her hair and dug his fingers into her buttock, punching his erection up her bottom harder and faster.
"Fucking knew it. Dirty little bitch! Well, you're gonna be getting it all the time from now on!"

There was little conversation after that as the twins got down to the business of aggressive anal rape. Emily eventually took Simon's huge and protracted climax up her bottom and then she was pushed over toward Gary who then took his turn at buggering her. He took her in a missionary position to begin with, something he seemed to enjoy, pressing Emily's knees up to her shoulders so he could bugger her as deeply as possible while he dropped sweat on her pain racked and cringing body. And then things started to escalate.

<><><>

Emily didn't know how long they had all been at it, but it felt like hours. Darkness seemed to have descended outside and ink black rain clouds were tipping their contents onto the island. Of course, it couldn't be any later than midday. It was just the storm making it seem like night-time.
The heat in the room was stifling, dry and choked of freshness. Sweat was running off everyone's naked flesh in visible streams, matting their hair, both lubricating and sticking them together and slowly exhausting them all.

The twins, it soon became clear, were easily bored and the two women were forced into a dozen positions and combinations, sometimes one on one - the women getting fucked or being made to suck or tit fuck the twins side by side on the bed. Sometimes one of the women would be left alone while the other was forced to service both men, a train gang of two, a spit roast, a double penetration.

Sally took the brunt of the hardcore work, as she seemed to be used to them, they both penetrated her vagina and doubled up on her, they shoved both cocks into her mouth at once and they double tit fucked her, one sitting on her face and fucking her cleavage from above while the other fucked from beneath with lots of lube and three pairs of hands pushing those huge melons together.
Emily was still made to take load after load though, usually down her throat. She'd be grabbed by the hair and pulled face first over to a cock, have it stuffed past her lips, made to suck and then the climax would unleash and she would be made to swallow all they had to offer, again and again.

The twins tortured her with promises of what they were going to do to her next, double penetrations, ass to mouth, make her rim her Aunt, make her lez up with her Aunt, and most horrifying - make her take both of their shafts up her bottom at the same time.

"Gonna double up in your fat, well spunked arse, Em!"
"Gonna rip you a new one you dirty cum slut! And you're gonna fucking love it!"
"Sal here can take it like a pro, we double her arse all the time, and the filthy fucking bitch gets off on it too!"
"We had to teach her exercises to keep her back door in shape, keep it tight and elastic." Simon laughed with malice. "You'll be needing them too once we're done with you!"
"S'never better than that first time though. You should've heard the racket she made that first time. It was fucking sweet, wasn't it bro?!"
"Too right, it was fucking awesome! That's why tonight's your turn, Em. Your arse is a hell of a lot tighter than Sal's ever was, even than it was that first time..."
"'Cause you're still young and spritely, and she's all old and haggard and stretched out."
"Even with the exercises!"
"Yeah! She must've been taking it up the arse for fucking decades, well loose she is!"
"We're gonna do Sal first though Em, make you watch close up so you can see what you're in for..."
"And see how much it's gonna fucking hurt!"
"You, not us..." They laughed.
"Lads..." Auntie Sal groaned, exhausted and defeated and placid. "If you're gonna do it to me first, can't we have a window open at least? I'm fucking dying in here with that fire roaring and there's no air in here at all. Please Gaz....? Simon, please....?"

The Twins were ready for it now, preparing themselves, sharing out whatever they were using as lubricant, working a glistening, gleaming film of oiliness to their full-mast phallic weapons. Simon half heartedly glanced up at the window and then back to Emily. He nodded her into action.

"Throw that window open Em, and then get your hot fucking arse back over here for a front row seat of what you're gonna be getting!"
"Of what you're about to receive!" Added Gary with a manic laugh.

Emily slid weakly off the bed, shuffled achingly across the carpeted floor, opened the bedroom window as wide as it would go, and then darted out of it onto the rain slick verandah.

There was a shout behind her and she felt hard angry fingers closing on her wrist. She panicked and her barefoot slipped on the slanted tiled roof of the verandah, the hand almost slipped from her wrist but it clung on, grip tight and constricting. She could feel her bones moving painfully under the vice grip of whichever twin had hold of her.

There was yelling but she didn't take it in, she heard Aunt Sally's high pitched scream as well as yells and inarticulate cursing from both brothers. On the old roof down by her left foot, her free hand closed mindlessly on something cold and hard and heavy, and loose. It came free in her grip, a slate tile. Without even thinking she lashed out backwards with it at the hand that was squeezing and pulling on her wrist.
A layer of moss and years of weather erosion had blunted the exposed edges of the slate rectangle, all except for the under-lap side, the edges of which were absolutely razor sharp. As it struck the person behind her she turned her head and caught a glimpse of pale naked forearm and the dull grey slate connecting, felt a resistance, felt something that made her think of cutting raw meat with a kitchen knife. She saw red amongst the pale flesh.

She felt it grate horribly against bone and knew she had inflicted serious damage. The immediate result was a panicked scream of pain from the twin, a thick gout of crimson blood suddenly pumping from his exposed flesh and him letting go of her wrist.
Emily dropped the slate tile and the scooted down the verandah, with barely a moment's hesitation she dropped off the low roof onto the rain sodden packed earth of the front yard below. She glanced behind her as she ran, naked and caught the briefest of glimpses of the open upstairs bedroom window, a liberal gout of blood on the glass like daubed paint. And then another gout splashed onto the inside of the other pane. The screams and yelling within continued.
She turned away from the house, sprinting along the pathway and then turned off and raced across the grass for the concealment of the woods.

[Nickamano]

Chapter 5

As Emily ran, she found herself visualising her own escape from the twin's point of view - arms and legs desperately pumping, perky breasts and full buttocks shuddering to each thundering footfall. A pale, pink beacon against the rain-greyed and green/brown of the woods and the calf high grass she was tearing through. She knew she would stand out a mile away and would have to camouflage herself straight away, before even thinking about clothes or a weapon.

A conversational lesson from Jay from a previous year popped into her mind. That mud was always a good instant camouflage, although not very helpful if it was pelting down with rain. However, at the present moment the rain had stopped so she looked for a ditch close by.

She wondered what she was doing and found herself with a sudden and stomach churning snapshot of how dire her situation was, that she could be getting everyone killed by running off. She had just reacted with the roof slate, but she thought she must have done some serious damage to whichever twin had grabbed her. If she had stayed after that, the other one would have killed her for certain and probably neither quickly or painlessly. He would have made her suffer for what she had done.

There was a ditch, gouged deep by repeated tractor tyres which had a shallow puddle of collected rain water in the centre and it had plenty of thick sticky and usable mud around the circumference but it was too exposed, too open. He would be able to catch her up in the time she took to cover her nakedness. Even as she made the decision to move on, Emily heard a raging yell from the way she had come, echoing from the walls of the farm house and catching up with her.

"Bitch! You're dead bitch! You're fucking dead! I'm gonna hunt you down!"

There were a couple of cracks, loud and echoing through the air between them and she shivered with fear - that they were gunshots. But had he fired at her because he had seen her? Or fired to kill her grandmother or her aunt or her childhood friend? Or all three of them? There was no way of knowing, her only hope was that they had been unaimed random shots. Exclamations of the psycho's rage. And that he was coming after her rather than them.
She ran on into the shadows of the woods, wincing as brambles and undergrowth scratched at her legs and feet. Grimly determined, she gritted her teeth and ran on. Twigs and loose stones under her feet were like torture and she silently blessed the randomly scattered little carpets of dead leaves and mostly rotten acorns and pine cones that saved her sore feet from further torture.

She knew where she was going, the brook that cut a little horseshoe through the woods where she used to play as a girl, there would be plenty of mud and rotted foliage on its wide banks to cover herself with. And if she was really lucky those iron stakes that had once, long ago, been part of a barbed wire fence might still be there too. They were only pushed down into the earth and she should have no problem pulling one out for a weapon. If they were still there.
She finally saw the brook in the gloom, a rushing curve of black against the grey green of the undergrowth, and threw herself into the mud, rolling around in it, slapping her head into the soft stink face first, rubbing it under her breasts, between her thighs over and under her buttocks. Then she looked up and saw the remnants of the fencing, the iron poles, some of them fallen, some lying at an angle in the mud, some sturdy and upright. It made her think of decrepit soldiers on parade and brought to mind Dad's Army repeats from when she was a girl.
She picked one that didn't have any sketchy remnants of the barbed wire and with desperation and aggression giving her strength, she dragged it out from the profound suction of the muddy bank and then hefting it and feeling comfort and relief at having a weapon and a substantial weapon at that, went and hid in the undergrowth of bracken and a low, bushy pile of what might have been mistletoe, clinging to the remains of a fallen tree.

It was a long time before she saw him and she was shivering with the cold as much with fear, in the near night-time temperature. She wished she knew for certain that she was as well camouflaged by the mud application as she hoped but she kept having visions of great swathes of lush pink skin amongst the brown and green undergrowth, glowing as though fluorescent and revealing her hiding place. If he found her and disarmed her she could imagine him pitting a bullet through her stomach and then spending last hour or so, while she died in slow agony, violently raping her.
She didn't want to die that way. She didn't want to die at all.

The fear gripped her but she had a counter measure ready, she focussed on the twins, how they had spoiled the hope of the farm as a safe haven for her and the beginnings of a new happy family life. Okay, it hadn't followed the initial design of herself and Dean creating the family unit. It hadn't even been Jay and herself, not that she had ever really thought like that. But these twins had spoiled the whole scenario, burned her dreams into ash and right at this moment it was enough to bring up her anger and allow her to bury her fear and bolster her resolve to rise up and take her stand against the twins. And if necessary their family and anyone else who came up against her and tried to mess with her future happiness.

The whistling of the wind through the trees, the pattering of rain beginning to fall again, at first masked the twin's approach but soon enough the crunch of his booted feet became unmistakable and louder by the step.
Emily gritted her teeth, gripped her weapon, fought against the uncontrollable shivering and waited for her chance.

She was crouched down, her knees under her, head low and turned to the side, feet and left hand pressed against the leaf strewn ground, a coiled spring ready to explode into action from within the parasite entangled boughs of the fallen tree that served as her hiding place. She saw him through the thick mistletoe leaves.
He was coming straight toward her and her heart skipped a beat as a sudden belief struck her that she must be visible to him, but he proved her wrong by changing direction and approaching the brook. Where she realised her foot prints would be visible.
He muttered something to himself and let out a grunt. Emily took a deep breath, gathered her resolve and launched herself out of her hiding place.

Three steps, while she swung the four-foot iron pole from behind her up over her head in a big heavy arc and she was on him, yelling while she purposefully brought her weapon down into his right forearm, his gun hand. He cried out as his arm broke, the radius and ulna giving distinctive and loud splintering cracks as they were smashed by the iron bar. Emily didn't hesitate as the twin dropped the pistol and stumbled backward in shock and pain. She hit him again and again, breaking more bones, rib, collar, knee, calf.
She didn't count the number of strikes just launched them against him again and again until she was out of energy. He was down and broken, but alive, whimpering and barely conscious in the mud at the edge of the brook.
Blood trickled from lacerations and at least two of the smashed bones were sticking out through his flesh and clothing. His left calf was bent at a ninety-degree angle halfway down, and Emily could clearly see that she had cracked his skull, his scalp was split and skull bone was visible through the pouring blood.
She staggered backward, threw the iron bar to the ground and ran.

<><><>

Emily, made it back to Bear's cottage in record time, but she was calm, shaken but not panicky. She knew what she was doing, what needed doing. She went straight to the fireplace and took down one of the three big machetes and then ran back to the twin, who was unconscious but twitching horribly in the mud. She beheaded him with three big heavy swings then washed the blade in the brook and went back to the cottage. By now the adrenaline was wearing off and she was starting to feel the cold, shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

As she came in sight of the house, thinking about her clothes and equipment and not quite remembering if they were in the cottage or in the house, she heard a bang and saw the front door flung open. Bear was there, dragging out the body of the other twin and Emily felt a huge sense of relief at seeing that. It was over, they were free of another kind of evil at last.

"You okay?" She asked, jogging over to Bear.
"Yeah, are you?" He countered, struggling to keep his eyes from her mud caked nakedness.
"Yeah. just cold."
"Not surprised, what's with the mud?"
"Camouflage. I led that other shit into the woods and killed him. I just made him safe." She answered, hefting the machete.
"Is he done with?" She added, nodding at the corpse hanging from the grip of Bear's one hand.
"He's dead," Bear confirmed. "...Bled to death, more or less. Sal finished him off, pinned him under the big wardrobe, even though he was probably too weak to move, then slashed his throat. I'm gonna haul him out there and decapitate him too."
"Then they're both dead. The other's out by the brook. Let Sal know, will you? I have to wash this mud off me and get warm."
"I'll light a fire, get the water heated up and get the shower going."
"Thanks Bear."
"Thank you, Em. You don't know what you've done for us getting rid of those two..."

She just nodded, then turned and headed for the cottage.

The shower was like Manna from Heaven. Invigorating, rejuvenating, replenishing. The soap stung the scratches and abrasions and the bruising. But the hot water, which Bear's manual valve design gave her the perfect temperature, soothed her aches and pains. She got a big, soft sponge and gently worked at the soreness between her thighs and buttocks from where the twins had assaulted and abused her. She half wished she could use the soothing sponge in the back of her throat, which felt as raw and bruised as the rest of her but the best she could do was gargle some of the now steaming shower water.

It reminded her of taking showers with Dean, before all this. Before the world ended, and she grabbed onto that happy, lusty memory. Fighting to focus on it and not allow her thoughts to slide across to what the twins had been doing to her, or what had become of Dean or the world for that matter. She closed her eyes and pictured the bathroom, the bath, the tiled walls and the glass partition forming the square that contained the two of them, the trickling trails of condensed water on the smooth cold surfaces and that hot hissing spray from above.
And Dean, tall and naked, his water matted hair wet, curls flat against his skin. Lean muscles, tattoos that hint of Italian or Romany to his features and the small gold loop earring he used to wear. The gold chain she had bought him for his birthday that year that he never took off. She felt a momentary shock of remembrance of that chain and a flood of nostalgic memories assaulted her and she felt a welling of loss of her man, but she forced those thoughts down. Regained control. Thought about his cock, the way it looked in the shower, sticking out of that nest of glistening black pubic hair, long and thick, supported by those big heavy balls. The foreskin hooded over that flared purple crown, the musky scent and taste of it. The way it made her feel when she got it hard with her attentions. It never took much with her. She early on learned that the promise of anal or a good no-nonsense blowjob never failed to get him rock solid in her caressing, teasing palms.

She had started that way, face to face under the hot shower spray, snogging animatedly, tongues all over the place, her stretching up to find his proffered lips, her hands firmly gripping his thick shaft and heavy scrotum, working up and down its warm hard length, preparing him for her body.
His hands had told her where he was expecting to put it. And it was nothing new to her. He was fondling her bottom, firmly, almost painfully. Squeezing her pliant buttocks and spreading them to stroke the hot cleft between and tease her tight little anal mouth with the pad of his middle finger.
His other hand plucked at her nipples, pinching and tugging at the rosy buds before skipping down to her pubic mound, spreading her slick lips and driving a long digit up into her already primed pussy. Just like she knew how to get him hard in a matter of seconds, she had soon found she was nearly was always ready for him too and always quick to cum, no matter what hole he chose to stick it in. Even if it was rarely her preferred choice.
She was ready to suck him, wanted to, for him, but she was also aware of his dominant streak so she waited deliberately, demurely, until he firmly pushed her head down toward his crotch. She silently allowed herself to be controlled, playing her part, letting him feel all strong and manly and commanding. She slid down into her knees in front of him, putting up just enough resistance to make him have to pressure her into position, feeding his dominance and his desire.

The blow-job had followed the same scenario, Dean using his dominance and Emily playing her part, reluctant, struggling slightly, making him to force her to his will. He pulled her face into his crotch until his crown was pressing insistently against her lips. He pulled on her hair until, with a theatrical whimper, she parted her lips and he thrust deep into her mouth, pulled back and then thrust all the way in and onward down her throat, jamming his erection down her oesophagus until his scrotum mashed her chin.
She had worked at his cock for a long time, listening to his moans and growls, reading his actions and the strength of his occasional dominant face fucking until he was moments from climax, then she pulled herself off him and urgently drew his hands down between her thighs, keeping her other hand teasing his hot bulging scrotum to stop him boiling over or losing his edge.

Almost at once he had hauled her up off her feet, squeezing her pliable and plentiful ass cheeks into his hands, while she wrapped her legs around his hips and then leaned her back against the cold tiles of the wall. She had let out a gasp at the discomfort of the icy touch on her lithe back but he had ignored it while he struggled to penetrate her. He had demanded she push him into her but he hadn't bothered to specify which hole he wanted, so cheekily, she had slid him up into her wanton pussy and used her weight to push him in deep. Instinct had done the rest as he started fast, deep thrusting before he even noticed he was not up her arse.
She had cum all over his driving shaft before he had swapped holes, so by the time he had let her down and got her bent over with her hands against the wall, the hot water streaming down across her back, and lubed up her ass hole with shampoo, she was relaxed and well prepared to take it in her back door.
He had driven into her like a beast, savaging her arse with his solid meat like he always did, giving her bottom an unashamedly aggressive battering for a good ten minutes before filling her rectum with his hot cream. She had orgasmed a second time halfway through but by the time he had emptied his balls in her guts she was sore, exhausted and barely able to stand up.

Afterwards he had gently cleaned her up, and massaged her clit through another climax where she had literally collapsed into the bath tub and he had ended up carrying her to bed and toweling her off while she recovered and then dried her hair. That last climax and the gentleness he showed her afterwards had been the nicest part of the memory and the part she cherished the most but the sex had been good too, however much her arse had hurt for a couple of days afterwards.

<><><>

After her shower Emily dressed in tight fitting blue jeans, her boots and a grey and blue fleece hoodie. It had been one of Jay's and sported some kind of Chinese calligraphy that he said read as hentai but never told her what the word meant. Under the fleece she had a loose fitting plain white t-shirt.
She met the others in the kitchen where they drank warm milk but Auntie Sal was insistent on celebrating being rid of the twins so Nan Bea brought out some whiskey from a cupboard and four glasses and over the next couple of hours both bottles were emptied.
Emily watched everyone carefully. No one seemed the worse for wear, at least emotionally. They had all been through a hard and stressful day, two being imprisoned, held hostage and threatened, and two being violated, raped, abused, beaten and threatened, all culminating in the attempt to murder Emily.
Nan Bea looked a little pale and a touch shaky but the alcohol was settling her down well enough. She had always been a robust woman and never easily shaken up. Uncle Bear had a scabbed-over gash above his right eye and was limping a little but otherwise he seemed fine. Auntie Sal was battered and bruised and winced every time she sat down but Emily had the impression that since the twins had taken to her that wouldn't have been a rare sight. She seemed a little quiet and subdued but having just help killed someone, even if it was her own abuser, Emily didn't find it surprising.

Emily herself felt strong and righteous. Sure, she was sore all over and dog tired and sometimes she struggled to keep the sordid and painful memories of what they had done to her and what else they might have done to her and Sal at bay, but the alcohol was helping there and all in all she felt good. She had come to the farm, discovered a problem and solved it satisfactorily within a day. She hadn't had to rely on Dean or Jay to hold her hand or tell her what to do. She had done it for herself, done what needed to be done and she had neither hesitated or dropped the ball when it had mattered.

They toasted the farm and deliberately talked about old times. But Emily noticed that as darkness fell everyone was keeping weapons close by them and the doors and windows were all locked and bolted securely. Beneath the surface the fear of the unknown, the darkness and what might be hidden in it, was never far from their thoughts, just bubbling there under the surface. That was the life they lived now. Even if the undead weren't able to access the island and the place had long since been cleared of zombies, the darkness always contained that childhood fear of what might be out there beyond what you could see.
Emily gulped down her last shot of the throat burning, heart warming and head swimming spirit and started thinking about bed.

Bed ended up being in Bear's cottage, something about the house bothered Emily and even drunk she preferred the cottage to the house. Plus, there was the idea of not putting all your eggs in one basket. Emily's buzzing head was half aware that Bear would probably be wanting to fuck again, and the booze in him would probably be telling him to do her arse, while the booze in her might well dull the pain enough and her own reticence to allow her to take it but as it happened he fell asleep almost immediately.

Once they were securely locked inside, weapons stowed, they drunkenly stripped off their clothes and fell into bed side by side with the room spinning invariably around them. However, even as Emily shuffled herself into a comfortable position, enjoying the warmth of the big older man's body alongside hers and expectantly reaching for his hot but flaccid penis, she heard him beginning to snore softly and mentally shrugged while she released her grip on his cock.
She grunted to herself, somewhat relieved and allowed the exhaustion she had been fighting, to envelop her. Bear's soft snoring acted like a hypnotist's pendulum and soon enough she was lost to slumber herself.

<><><>

They regretted the whiskey the next morning, the hangover was the worst ever, seemingly for all of them. And it forbade any potential or intended sex between Emily and Bear that morning. They washed, dressed and headed over to the house for breakfast, each trying not to let the pounding head and dizziness turn into bad temper and snappiness.
Emily's Nan and Aunt were just as sore but none of them could ignore the bliss and relief they all felt - of freedom and safety, they were beholden to no one once again and had their safe island, their crops and their animals to themselves.
Doggedly fighting off the symptoms of over-doing it the previous night, they all got to work, Sal feeding and checking on the animals while Emily and Bear looked over the crops, Bear beginning the education that Emily would require to be an equal partner in the business of survival. At the same time Nan cleaned the house, wrote more of her 'How to Farm and Survive' guidebook, made an inventory of things they might need for the next scavenger hunt on the mainland, whenever that may be, and then started on lunch.

<><><>

Three days later, Bear and Emily were finished with the morning work a little early and lunch wasn't quite ready so they went off to the upstairs bathroom to have a leisurely wash. Emily, happy with life for the first time in a long time, and happy with the success of the morning's work and more than enjoying Bear's company, turned it into something else entirely.
She had been idly flirting with him the whole morning and in the bathroom upstairs, jokingly volunteered to give him a sponge bath which turned into soaping and rising his grubby face with a flannel. She completed the job with a kiss on the lips, which Bear automatically returned, and all of a sudden, things were serious between them, tongues and hands playing, frolicking with each other's bodies. Emily was half planning and half expecting what Bear would be wanting of her, so her hands went straight for his already erect cock, rubbing at the solid burning ridge through the rugged denim of his trousers, gauging the heat and the hardness under her caressing hands. His hand was deftly unbuttoning the fly of her own jeans, while his other forearm was across the small of her back, the home-made appendage hooked into the baggy waistband just above her arse cleavage. He was very careful to keep the cold metal away from her bare flesh.
Expecting him to push her onto her knees, she was just about to pre-empt him, but Bear surprised her. He finished unbuttoning her trousers, tugged them quickly down to her knees and then, pincering her between his powerful forearms, he lifted her bodily off the floor and dumped her down onto the heavy ceramic sink then dropped down in front of her, mirroring her own intent. Fingers grabbed the gusset of her knickers and pulled at them urgently, Emily helped by taking her weight on her hands, gripping the sides of the sink and lifting her bottom up into the air. Bear pulled her underwear down to meet her jeans, which were caught around her ankles. He lifted her legs up over his head, pushing her torso back against the wall behind her and then pushed his head up between her thighs, allowing her to rest her legs on his huge broad shoulders.
Before she knew it his face was pressing forward against her pussy lips and his tongue was slipping out to taste her.
He proved at once that he had memorised what she liked and what had worked best during their first night's fun. This time he avoided the feather-light teasing kisses and tonguing and using his tongue to spread her slightly salty labia, lapping between them with long licks of the soft part of his tongue and listening to her increasing pants and moans while using his self-control and stamina to maintain a steady rhythm.
His hand stroked the smooth, cool flesh of her thigh before sliding around to squeeze and caress a firm, pliant buttock.
His tongue pushed on, finding her vaginal entrance and taking long, deep tongue licks of her soaked core, enjoying that watermelon nectar of hers. Emily's hands were in his lank hair, pulling him against her, stroking him, enjoying him. Her moans growing longer and louder and less restrained.
Bear shifted his hand from her ass to her pussy and he used a thumb to circle the hood of her clitoris, immediately recognising the little responsive leaps in the muscles of her inner thighs pressing in against the sides of his face and the sudden increase in the intensity of her moans and gasps. He kept this up for a few minutes until she was grinding herself rapidly against his fast working mouth and then gutturally cried out as her orgasm hit.
He worked through it, fighting to maintain his pace and rhythm, keeping up his caresses, building her orgasm to a higher peak even as it crested. And then, as he recognised her peak had subsided he swapped attentions, pushing two fingers into her quivering pussy and fastening his lips over her clitoris to lap her quickly to another climax, stroking her g-spot at the same time. It took less than a minute until she orgasmed again, and this time she gushed juices across his soft tickling beard. And still he didn't stop, working her writhing, jolting body onwards and upwards until her orgasm blossomed into another and then another, climax on top of climax, each peaking higher than the one before. Eventually she had to beg him to stop, panting and moaning and shivering all over, weakened and invigorated at the same time.
But all at once she gained a new strength, a kind of frantic unadulterated desire and desperation for him.

"Hurry!" She groaned, grabbing his half-mast cock and struggling to free it from his trousers. "Anything you want Bear, you can put it wherever. Wherever you like. Just stick it up me. Oh God, Bear fuck me good!"

But Bear had frozen, listening, and for a moment Emily didn't understand. Then she heard her Nan shouting from downstairs.

"Bear?! Did you hear me?! There're people coming up the drive!"

<><><>

Bear loaded the side-by-side shotgun, while Emily, bringing back the lessons that Jay had given her about handguns - that one time they had found one, checked the Glock 17 the twin who had bled to death upstairs had donated to them. Sally was going around the ground floor of the house securing the doors and windows as best she could while buckling a machete and knife belt around her hips. Nan was upstairs, at the front bedroom window that Emily had escaped from, with a bolt action rifle which Bear had assured them, though empty would be a deterrent all the same. The visitors weren't to know it was empty.
Sally watched through the net curtains that covered most of the downstairs windows.

"They've stopped in the drive, Bear."
"How many?"
"Erm... Six."
"There're bound to be a couple more trying to get around the back.... Weapons?"
"Usual, mostly knives and axes, two shotguns.... I think there's a bolt action in there too."
"You recognise anyone?"
"All of them. From Hensley."
"Figured as much." Bear grunted.
He and Emily shifted from the kitchen into the vestibule and stood to one side of the front door.
"Hensley? That's the island west of us, isn't it?" Emily asked.
"Yeah, where the twins sprung from. This'll be their family wondering where they've got to."
"Oh..." The situation hung heavily on Emily, she felt partly responsible.
"McMann's have always been a tricky bunch. A bit unpredictable. If it gets violent, they might try to break in down here somewhere, round back or at the sides. Stay low and listen out for them. Kill anyone you don't know."
"Okay, Bear. You'll be careful won't you?"
"Always am, kiddo." He gave her a reassuring grin. But his grimness shined through his smile. "You watch yourself too, Em."

Emily just nodded. Bear took a breath and then went to the front door, shotgun in hand and stepped out onto the verandah.
He knew all of them. Ewan was the patriarch, a fisherman, hardy and gruff but mostly fair, he and Bear had grown up together, then grown apart over a woman. There was neither warmth nor animosity. He was bald but wore a head scarf and a baseball cap. And he sported a trimmed beard, a mismatch of rust and grey, black rimmed glasses were the same he had always worn. His thickset body was covered by a heavy sheep skin coat, Wellington boots and waterproof trousers.
His wife was with him, she had been the woman that had forced them apart. Claire. She had been pretty once, now she looked haggard, over-worked and stressed, wearing thick jumpers and leather trousers that were too big for her. Her once lush sandy hair now an equal mix of grey, was loosely plaited and hooked over one shoulder. There was little left of the vibrant, passionate woman Bear had once loved. Both husband and wife hefted shotguns.

Lara, their youngest daughter was there too. Next to Ewan, she could be considered the brains of the family, into her twenties by now, Bear remembered that she had been going through a Goth phase when the world ended, now it was less than a dim memory. She had changed. Amazingly, She was practically California blonde. Long, straight blonde hair that fell past her shoulders, side parted with a sweep that half covered her forehead and lustrous waves in the length that somehow maintained an alluring appearance even as it was snatched and whipped around by the harsh, cold, North wind. She was tall and lean, somehow tanned golden and showed off a strong slender frame and 'gym toned' though meagre curves. The gym-toned body must have been acquired through physical labour but Bear couldn't imagine her doing anything physical at all. She was undeniably beautiful though. Emily would be jealous at first sight of her. She had on grey clothes, very snug fitting, faded one time black jeans, a thick rugged fleece emblazoned with something about a 'Starting Line', over a hand-knitted woollen jumper, heavy military boots and an open leather coat. She had sharp and intelligent eyes, her mother's full lustrous lips, which had a constant and undeniably erotic pout to them. The only mitigating factor to her startling looks was a broken nose that had once been pretty. She carried a Lee Enfield bolt action rifle.

Her husband David stood alongside her, tall and thin and sour looking. He had changed his name to McMann when they had got married. He was quite a lot older than Lara, Bear knew him as lazy and a coward who liked to drink and therefore wasn't allowed. The rumour was that he had broken Lara's nose once and she had put him in the hospital afterwards before her father could get his hands on him. Lara had taken him back because she wanted kids. He had been the frightened sheep of the family ever since and Lara's sense of power and with it her paternal cruel streak had blossomed like a sun flower in high summer. He was shivering because of the old suit he wore, shirt, jacket and trousers, nothing to keep off the bite of the cold wind. He hefted a small hatchet and had a six-inch knife in his belt.

The other two were the eldest brother and a stray the family had taken on. The eldest brother Hamish was a bully, harder and gruffer than his father, his cruel streak eclipsed only by the twins'. He was his father's son, a younger, leaner version. Someone to be careful of. He carried a big wood cutters axe. The stray Bear didn't know much about, but he had the impression he had been taken in and then essentially used as slave labour. He was small and frightened and underfed. He had was without weapons and was only wearing old jeans with tears on both knees, a holey jumper and a pair of ratty trainers. He was visibly shivering. Bear couldn't remember his name.

"Afternoon Ewan." Bear said with a nod and a lack of smile.
"Joseph." Ewan replied, matching the other's cold politeness. "Twins didn't come back. They here?"
"There's been an accident." Bear replied. "Severed artery, Simon bled out before we could do anything. Gary freaked out, started shooting up the place when we weren't able to save Simon."
"I had to protect my family, Ewan!" Bea shouted down from the upstairs window. "We didn't have any choice."
"What a load of fucking bull-shit!" Hamish spat venom and outrage on his lips. "We cut liar's tongues out Andrews. I heard what my brothers did to your hand. Got your chance for a little revenge, didn't you!"
"Mrs Bea said she did it, lad. Didn't you hear her confess?" Claire grunted, calm and cool and disbelieving.
"Where are they?"
"We made them safe. They're out in the wood shed. I was planning on bringing them over to you tomorrow." Bear said.
"'Course you were." Ewan said, but his cold, flint eyes were locked on Bea, upstairs. "Hamish, take Dave and Neil and collect your brothers."

Emily watched from inside, staying in the shadows, out of sight while using the forward facing windows from the hall, the study and the kitchen to observe. And then staying in the kitchen to follow the three men as they came around the side of the house and over to the woodshed near the edge of the woods.
They disappeared inside the shed, the three of them and were out of sight for some time. Emily checked the back-door was locked up tight and kept her head down but sneaked one of the windows open an inch and listened to the voices on the breeze. She could hear them talking amongst themselves. Not everything, the odd word and partial sentence.

"...This one's ...Gary...No... Simon...
"...No, Gary..."
"...Tits on that Sally MILF... Didn't fucking see her... Wanted to see them tits..."

Emily recognised two voices, the third didn't seem to be saying much and one of the two was louder, more distinctive. More authoritative.

"You'll get your chance... Plan... But you shouldn't... Talking like that... Our Lara wouldn't like it. Maybe I should tell her. She'll kick the shit outta you."
"...Don't Hay... Seen Gary?... He's been battered, half a dozen broken... ...Head bashed in.... Don't look much... ...Self defence...."
"Doesn't matter. They'll get there's, we'll kill armless Andrews and old Granny Knock. Then Sally'll be dragged back to ours. And then them tit's'll be all of ours to play with."
"...Can't we take... ...Now?"
"Shotguns are down to one load and our Lara's empty. Dad wanted to know what happened to Gary and Simon, but don't worry, he's got a plan for 'em."
"...Something about herding...?"
"You'll see. Now help that weak-arse with Simon."

And then they emerged from from the shed, the leader carrying one body wrapped in one of Nan's blankets over his shoulder, the other two carrying the other blanket shrouded body between them.
Emily followed the leader with the barrel of her pistol back around to the front of the farmhouse. Keeping the other two out of the corner of her eye.

Bear had his eyes locked onto Ewan and Claire and their shotguns, but he kept one eye on Lara and half an eye one the three men coming back from the woodshed. Ewan was staring at Bear and Nan but his attention shifted to the shrouded forms of his sons being carried back to him.
He watched closely and Bear saw a misting in his steely gaze and he swallowed as his twin sons were returned to him. But then he shook himself and his hardness returned. Without taking his eyes off Bear, he called out to his family.

"C'mon, we're going."
"But dad!" whined David,
"Shut it, boy!" Ewan spat at his son-in-law before turning back to Bear. "We'll be seeing you, Andrews."

And then they left without another word.

<><><>

They sat around the kitchen table, the lunch of vegetable soup and bread and milk, before them but no one seemed to have an appetite.

"Didn't expect them just to walk away." Sally muttered.

Bear shook his head, looking darkly around the room.

"I think they might have been bluffing. I overheard of them saying their shotguns only had one load, I'm guessing that's two shots altogether and that the rifle that pretty blonde was carrying was empty." Emily offered.
"You could have mentioned that before, honey..." Sally moaned, leaving Emily momentarily speechless and embarrassed.
"Quiet, Sal." Nan spoke up. "We're not murderers or savages. We weren't about to start any trouble."
Sally gave Emily an apologetic cock of the head and the younger woman threw her a forgiving smile.
"They know what the twins were doing here, doing to Sally, they would have been bragging about it and that lot wouldn't have believed it was accidental or in self defence. To the McMann's, us killing two of their young men is unforgivable, accident or self defence, doesn't matter. It wouldn't have mattered what anyone would have said."
"I've known the McManns all my life." Nan grunted as she picked up her spoon. "This isn't over."

[Nickamano]

Chapter 6

Eighteen-year-old Emily O'Brien tried and failed to bite back a loud, long moan of despair. Gripping the sleeping bag spread out beneath her, she was trying her best not to slip and slide under the lad's powerful, relentless pounding but the hardness of his pace was making it very difficult.
His hips slammed against her soft, perky bottom over and over as one hand spanked her pliant buttocks along with his hard thrusts and his pace only ever seemed to increase.
The lad's other hand moved around constantly as he clawed at her other buttock, squeezed the flesh of her waist and hip, dug into her shoulder as he drew her bodily back onto him and thrust into her harder and harder.
She and a lad were in a small, shabby tent in what seemed to be the dead of night, pitched on a vaguely familiar camp site, she vaguely recollected a field on the edge of some woods, something about a college trip.

The lad leaned in and drove into her harder than ever, slamming powerfully with the whole of his thick hardness, drawing back until her swollen lips were barely encircling his crown, before he jerked forward, shoving the full length back into her.
He was going on about how he was loving the feel of her cool, soft, arse cheeks cushioning him as he bottomed out, taking the hard bony pummelling from his hips. Her big, sexy ass feeling so soft and smooth against his hips and abdomen.
To Emily, his erection driving in and out felt like a huge, almighty pile-driver, sawing forward and back in and out of her, stretching her raw tunnel walls, the heated, frictional rasping of flesh of flesh and the never ending, hard, jerky hammering against her bruised bottom.
He started to grunt and pant as his climax approached, and Emily let out another little muffled whimper at his ever-increasing drunken aggression. He reached under her and grabbed her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, forcing her to take his weight while he milked her, tweaking, tugging and twisting painfully on her tender young buds. And despite her efforts, she couldn't hold back the wail of pain his attentions brought out in her. He didn't care, his fingers still viced onto her tortured nipples. He continued to fuck her hard and fast, snarling into her ear all the while with his simmering passion.

"Ah! Fuck!" He growled loudly as his simmering finally bubbled over. "Fuck! Take it!!"

He roared as the bubbling-over resulted in his climax exploding from his balls and racing in heavy ecstatic waves along his pulsing hardness.

"No! Don't, not in..."
"Argh! Yeah! Coming in you Em! I'm fucking cumming in you!"
"D... Don't! Don't get me pregnant!"
"Ah, FUCK!" He yelled and pulled out of her at the last possible moment.

Emily gasped in relief as she felt a thick, hot torrent of his spunk erupting across her buttocks and over her arched back, spewing forth from him, lashing across her creamy flesh, whipping her with three or four viscous ropey threads.

"Jesus! I've never cum like that before." He groaned exhaustedly after he was done.
"Fuck me you're a good shag, Em! Gonna have to have you again!" He muttered, letting out a long, satisfied sigh and getting off her.

He slumped down next to her on the narrow sleeping bag, half consciously shoving her towards the edge. Emily just lay there, panting, her thighs pressed together tightly, her arms under her.
She could feel the drying strings of his spunk, strung out, up her back and across her tender bottom and she could taste his residue in her mouth from earlier, even with the taste of Alcopops and rancid saliva.
Her pussy ached, as did her thighs and buttocks. She almost drifted off as well, but the icy coldness of the night caressing her nakedness brought about cold shivers and kept sleep from her.
She lay there, infused with disgust while the lad lay beside her, snoring loudly. Sitting up, she quietly gathered her clothes, hurriedly dressed and then slipped over to the entrance of the tent. She unzipped the flap and popped her head out and found herself face to face with one of the undead.

Emily awoke suddenly, staring at the morning sky, which was cloudy and grey but still bathing the world with bright morning daylight, through the window in the kitchen area of Bear's cottage. It took her a minute to adjust, to accept the difference between the dream world she had occupied and the real world she was now in. It was always harder with dreams based around memories too.
She sat up in bed the uneasy feeling, a leftover from the dream, not letting go of her. Something about zombies she half remembered. She was rapidly losing the dream but it connected to something from her past that she hadn't thought about in years. A lad she'd met on a tawdry camping holiday with her parents.
She had connected with the lad who seemed to be the only other person her age at the camp site and had hit it off over a few too many bottles of Alcopops while smoking secretly behind the cold concrete toilet block. They had drunkenly flirted on the last night, kissed a lot and then Emily had let him feel her up and suck on her tits while she had given him a hand-job, jerked him until he'd moaned a little too loudly and spurted his spunk all over the floor between them, and that had been the last time she had seen him. She had meant to get his phone number but had missed her chance. She couldn't even remember his name now.

She leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed the concealed machete that was sheathed to the bed-frame, comforted by its weight and protection, then she gazed out of the window, her attention caught by a movement. The feeling of dread brought on by the dream continued to prickle her even though the dream had all but gone from her memory.
The world outside was rain slick, though it wasn't raining at that moment. Everything outside was bright and glistening with a layer of wetness. And Emily then saw Aunt Sal, and realised that she was the cause of the attention-grabbing movement.
She was out in the front yard with what looked like a long curved machete attached to a long wooden pole. She was in a shorter than knee length yellow nightie and heavy duty green Wellington boots and seemed to be hurrying toward the cottage from the house. The most eye-catching bit of the movement she was responsible for was the way her unencumbered breasts bounced and shook inside the cotton nightie. Emily felt half embarrassed by the sight and half jealous. And then something altogether new startled her.
A well-rotted zombie stumbled past the window, right up by the glass, actually smearing the window with its putrid gore. And beyond it Emily saw Sally shift into a run, the machete-on-a-pole weapon raised and ready, her large breasts quaking in the thin cotton nightie.
The walking corpse's head and left forearm were sliced away by Sally's downward sweeping attack and the corpse tumbled downwards and out of sight.
A second later Sally was knocking on the door.

There was no time for modesty, Emily hurried naked to the door, unlocked it and pulled her aunt inside, barring the door again immediately. But even in that split-second long view of the front yard of the farm, she saw two lumbering forms of the undead approaching. They had been invaded.

As she turned back from the door heading for her discarded clothing, Emily spied, out of the corner of her eye, Bear throwing back the blanket and getting out of bed, he was just as naked as her and was sporting impressive and for Emily, mouth-watering, morning wood.
A disturbing thought occurred to her, even as Aunt Sal started chattering away urgently - and Emily knew she should be paying attention, but the concern over Bear revealing his incidental hard on and Sally standing there with those huge unencumbered tits. would they be staring at each other? Getting horny for each other? Could Emily lose her new lover to her older super busty Aunt. Even as she told herself that she knew full well that there had never been anything between them and if anything was going to have happened it would have done so already, she eyed them both and saw with heartfelt relief that both had their eyes averted from the other while Bear quickly pulled on some cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt.

"What is it?" Bear asked though his eyes were focussed on the difficult talk of buttoning his trousers over the fat bulge tenting them.

Emily pictured that hard cock, looking big and thick in the morning light and found herself getting increasingly annoyed that their morning had been interrupted, if not for the emergency she would probably be riding that beast to climax right now. The frustration gave her fuel to drive away her undeniable reluctance to get out there and help defend the farm. She knew she had to, it was part of everyone's duty, but the thought of it, of what could go wrong was like a parasite climbing into the back of her head and chewing into her mind and making her shiver with fear. The anger and the prospect of morning sex being taken away from her went some way to allay that understandable fear. She mentally refreshed what she had half heard Aunt Sal saying and catching herself up on current events.

"I couldn't sleep so I went out at dawn to have a look around, took the binoculars. I saw a boat coming into the south mooring so I hurried down there for a closer look. There were three of them, McMann's. Hamish, Lara and her hubby, I think. They had a raft with undead on it all chained together with fencing to stop them falling overboard. They let them loose on the shore, ran ahead of them to entice them up."
"Shit, did you get a count, Sal?"
"Eighteen. I double checked."
"Nice work."
"Eighteen! Jesus!" Emily moaned.
"We'll just have to spread out and take them in ones and twos."

Emily pulled a clean pair of knickers from the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed while Bear moved over to the weapon wall and started to select weapons for the task at hand.

"So those arsehole McMann's are behind this, I take it?" Emily asked.

She reached down, not bothering with a bra and grabbed the first warm looking item of clothing she saw, a blue and zip-up sporty jacket with a high mandarin style collar and elasticated sleeves and waist band.

"Yeah. Retribution for the twins I suppose." Sally answered, pacing by the door while impatiently watching her niece dress.
"Why didn't they just attack us last night while we in asleep in our beds?" Emily asked.
"They tried that once, before the truce. They came up against barred doors and shuttered windows and made so much noise trying to break in and then set the house on fire that we had plenty of time to boil water and pour it down on them from the upstairs windows." Bear put in, while he drew a whetstone along the blade of a long curved cavalry sabre he had selected.
"Your Nan even shot one of them dead as they tried to run away. Not too mobile is Mum, but she's a terrific shot!" Sally added.
"One of their slave people, not one of the family, or they never would have let it stand."

There was a moment of silence while Emily looked around for her thickest pair of jeans, Sally paced over to the window and gave a huff. Bear used the whetstone on a machete blade.

"We have to get going Em honey, while they're spread out, if they get bunched up we could be in trouble!" Sally said impatiently, turning back to her niece and seeing her standing there in just her jacket and knickers.
"I can't find my pants!"

Sally threw a hurried gaze around the place, spotted another pile of Emily's clothes on the kitchen table and tossed her a garment at random.

"Here, just put that on and let's get going."

It was an A-line knee length skirt, that wasn't even knee length and entirely impractical for the woods with nettles and brambles and the like. Emily bit back the annoyance she felt and pulled it on, doing up the zip and buttoned waistband, then sat on the bed and hauled on her heavy-duty boots.

"So, Bear How're we doing this?" Sally asked already starting to unbolt the cottage door.
"You get back to the house, you need proper clothes yourself and make sure Bea's safe. Lock the house up tight, will you?"
"Right, once mum's safe, I'll head back out and give you a hand."
"Yeah, but stay near the house in case some get past us and make sure the garden and out buildings are clear."
"Wait. There were eighteen but I've managed to put down three already. So we're only looking for fifteen now."
"Nice work Aunt Sal!" Emily said with a grin. Then she turned to Bear. "So, what about us?" Emily asked.
"I'll check on the animals first, make sure they're safe. Then I'll start clearing the woods to the South-west. Will you see to the fields and then the woods to the South-east?"
"Sure." Emily said, trying hard to hide her disappointment at being separated from Bear.

The thought of fighting alone terrified her. Of course, she couldn't admit that to the others. She had to show confidence about killing zombies on her own for Bear and her aunt's peace of mind, but she was acutely aware of the fact that she had rarely killed for herself and never without back up. Dean and Ray had always been nearby to keep an eye on her, support her and step in if she messed it up. Now there would be no one with her, maybe not even in earshot. Alone and without backup was a terrifying prospect and she felt the beginning of jitters and an uncontrollable shaking set into her hands. But a grim determination developed alongside the fear. She had to prove to herself as much to Bear and Sally that she was worthy of being at the farm, that she really was one of the family that she was capable and deserved her place here.

"We should meet back here in, say, two hours with a head count." Sally suggested and the three of them hurriedly checked their watches matched. "Let's make sure we double check the kills, we need to be certain all eighteen of those things are accounted for."

Emily grabbed her newly sharpened machete and followed Bear out into the yard. There were two more in the yard between them and the house but Sally went after them straight away, running over and using her longer range weapon with surprising precision to decapitate the first and then running over to the second and slicing its head and half of one putrid, fluidous shoulder with a long, diagonal, sweeping slice.
Sally and Bear exchanged a wave and the two turned from the lone woman and headed down the path.

"What is that thing she's using?"
"Called a Naginata, we found one on a dining-room wall on a trip out one day. The blade was crap so I made a new one. Sal likes it well though. You can get a heavier swing because of the weight of it and the length means you don't have to get as close to those things. Takes a bit of practice to get used to it though."

They walked together in silence for a couple of minutes, following the path south across the fields, before Bear peeled off to the right where a number of their animals were grazing. Emily saw a couple of the undead in the field but they were still quite a way from the animals and Bear didn't have to hurry over. Emily glanced at her watch and then stepped off the path and cut across the other narrower field to her left towards the track that ran through the woods toward the shore line.

She didn't even come across any of the undead until she reached the shore line, and the small boat that had brought the raft over that Aunt Sal had mentioned, was in sight.
The woods were by this point only about twenty-metres deep and they died off as the uneven horseshoe of cliffs that encircled much of the island emerged from the Atlantic and grew as they advanced up the edge of the land mass.
Emily paused in the shadowy edge of the woods and looked around first to check the woods were clear and then she focussed on the boat. It was a small fishing vessel, with a covered cabin and a little walkway that stretched out from the bow. It reminded Emily of the boat from the film 'Jaws'.
She could see three people on the gravelly beach, and they were herding a group of five zombies using long pitch forks to keep the things away from them and direct them away from the beach toward the path and fields beyond. They were coming this way.

The first seemed to accept the directive of the pitch fork continually spiking it the back and it abruptly lumbered away up the hill away from the beach and toward Emily's vantage point in the concealing tree-line. She waited a couple of minutes keeping one eye on the walking corpse as it ascended closer and closer to her, while her other eye she kept on the rest of the group. The two men, Hamish and David apparently from what Aunt Sal had said earlier, seemed to have the other monsters moving ahead of them in the direction they wanted and none of the things seemed to be showing the desire to turn and attack their Human leaders which worried Emily, did they have some form of control? Or was it just the continual pain of their stabbing pitchforks that was causing the positive outcome due to maybe something like left over remnants of the undead's instincts?

The last of the walking corpses seemed to have been held back as a freakish plaything for the pretty blonde sister. She had it about the throat with a home-made neck restraint. A kind of chain or cable tie connected to a strong pole to keep the restrained thing at a distance. Its hands were also tied behind its back and it shuffled awkwardly, even comically, because its soiled and stained trousers had been dragged down around its ankles.
The young woman seemed to be very interested in what the undead was packing between its thighs. And even from this distance, Emily could see why. It was huge. Thick as a tin can and close to the length of her forearm. The attractive young woman, Lara, was holding the end of the restrainer while she pumped the big heavy slab of cock-meat trying, stupidly in Emily's view, to work some hardness into it. She was mesmerised for a little while, at the size of the cock and the sheer perversity of the blonde woman. The fact that she was spawned from the same stock as those two twins seemed altogether obvious watching her.
Then she realised that they were all coming her way too and if she didn't move, she would be spotted and captured or snatched by the zombies and eaten alive. Sometimes the agonised screams from Ray back at their camp site where he had died still rang heavily in the back of her mind, bringing up tears and guilt and horrible sickening imagery much of which was conjured by her re-imaginings after-the-fact.

She slipped backward, keeping low and quiet, keeping trees and undergrowth between herself and the advancing enemy, both human and undead until, recognising exactly where she was, she remembered the shallow gully or ravine, only a few feet from her and that, when here as a kid playing hide and seek, she'd often use the curtain of ivy in the gully to hide behind. And had never been found there.
It was like a wedge cut out of the woods, shallow at the mouth and cutting something like ten feet down at the deepest end which was formed by steep ragged rock walls on three sides. The flooring was rotten vegetation, leaves and mud, water liked to collect there and often the deep end was a foot deep in putrid smelling boggy water, but there were rocks and matted tendrils of creeper against the walls that created a little pathway for those who knew how to cross it. Emily remembered well enough and she used it now. The rock wall was still all but covered with long stems of ivy that hung from the surface to the ground like a static green waterfall and shuffling around from the side allowed a person to conceal herself behind it. Emily did so.

She hid there, still and silent, breathing shallow half to conceal the sound of her breathing, half so as not to gag on the rank stench of the rotting vegetation surrounding her.
She heard everything in layers. The closest rustling of wind in undergrowth, then the noise of the of the zombies that might well have seen her and was close by. That was okay she had her machete ready and waiting. Beyond those sounds came more, rustling of movement through the undergrowth, the occasional undead grunt and then the furthest layer was the distant and echoing, yet ever-increasing, noise of a living conversation.
It was a good hiding place, the undead didn't have superior senses to humans or anything, so there was no reason for one of them to deliberately enter the ravine, however luck was not on Emily's side. She could see the zombie, the one that had followed her into the woods, loping along the upper wall of the ravine to her right, slowly passing her by, but suddenly a magpie swooped low over the monster's head, caught its attention and turned it around so it mindlessly followed the bird. It stepped off the edge of the ravine and dropped down into the wet, boggy ground. It seemed to have broken something as it flailed drunkenly, trying to right itself. It tried to gain purchase in the watery mud and rotten vegetation but found it impossible.

The noise seemed to attract the others, however, because all of a sudden three more zombies appeared at the shallow end of the ravine opposite Emily's hiding place and they stumbled forward as one.
And Emily realised too late that her hiding place might well end up as a death trap. She had chosen somewhere with only one way in or out and right now there were three mobile undead and a partially mobile one between her and escape. And then the trio of living bastards appeared as well with the fifth monster, watching the walking dead in the ravine with mild interest and amusement.
Emily was taken by the strange antics of the three humans with their zombie plaything. The hot blonde girl was the strangest, she had the monster's flaccid cock in her hand and was tugging at it, as though experimenting, still trying to see if she could get it hard. While her brother and husband (according to what Aunt Sal and Bear had told her) laughed and swapped ribald jokes and ribbing. The zombie seemed to be led by more vestigial instincts as it was slowly and awkwardly thrusting forward and back in Lara McMann's clenched fist, while the three Humans laughed at its ridiculous antics.
Emily caught Hamish muttering something about getting Sally to suck it off while she was taking him doggie style, once they have their hands on her.

"...If she survives the undead assault of course."
"Well, if she doesn't," Lara spat with bile. "It's tough shit innit!"
"It'll be zombie-MILF shit, on a dick! I'm gonna make your Davey-boy arse fuck her no matter what!" Hamish replied with a ribald laugh.
"Oh Jesus! You're fucking disgusting!" Lara spat back.

All Emily could do for the time being was to keep still and quiet and watch. She watched the things spread out, all of them were male and in different stages of freshness the second of the three was the least decomposed, his flesh grey-green and sunken, but there was still shape to him, muscle and fat hadn't yet started to be eaten away. His clothes were filthy and blood stained and... Somehow familiar... So were his facial features now she looked more closely. She recognised the face. She recognised the person the thing had once been.
He was wearing military camouflage trousers and jacket, much of it covered with dried blood, as was his lower face, jaw and throat. His nose was obviously broken and one eye had been swollen shut prior to death and the dried blood had remained beneath the swollen flesh. And there was the long wide gash in his temple where the hatchet had once lodged, the ragged edges of tattered flesh were stained with dried blood but pink and white splintered bone fragments and a sliver of exposed brain matter within the gash were plainly visible.

"Jay..." Emily breathed aloud, despite herself.

She felt her heart fluttering and a sickly sensation rear up from the pit of her stomach. She felt herself overcome by an uncontrollable shivering and she almost dropped her machete.

She must have made some noise as undead-Jay and another of the monsters suddenly locked in on her position, one of them made a wheezing cough kind of noise and his lumbering advance took on a more animated speedy style. The zombie's change in demeanour caught the attention of the rest of them and suddenly all three were moving toward her, and even the one stuck in the mud with probably broken legs was starting to try and pull himself through the mud toward her concealed position.
She bit down the heart-hammering panic and looked up at the living trio on the small cliff above and to her right. All three were standing there watching the undead's movements, their plaything all but forgotten.
And then her attention was torn back to her predicament as she realised the zombies were really closing in on her and she was out of time and choices. She shoved her way out of the ivy, hearing both the hungry groans from the monsters reaching for her and the gasps of surprise from the living above.
She raised the machete at the first of the zombies which was, of course, undead-Jay and swung it hard and fast horizontally at his head. With a sickening 'chock' it slammed into his skull, even as undead-Jay reached for her, gnashing his teeth. She had swung hard but high and the machete blade had bitten deep into the side of his skull, bisecting an ear and digging in deep, though skin, bone and into grey matter, burying the blade over an inch into his brain.
But when Emily tried to pull the blade she found free, to her panic, that it was lodged there, vice-tight by the grip of bone and muscle, adhered to by slime and pressure.
Another of the zombies was almost on her, fingertips millimetres from her shoulder, she had to let go of her weapon and stumbled back against the ivy, out of reach but off balance. Undead-Jay slumped and fell to the ground, the weight of the weapon stuck in his skull dragging him down into the bog.
There was nothing else Emily could do as the other two zombies came in close, and the broken one continued to drag himself closer and closer through the bog. She took a deep breath and screamed.

"Help!"

It caught their attention straight away and they leaned over the edge of the ravine, looking down with surprised expressions. The men especially looked her carefully up and down. David, the husband was the one who spoke, but not to Emily.

"Jesus! Where'd she spring from?"

Emily had to redirect her attention again as the things were closing in. She cursed herself inwardly for only taking the machete, Jay had always had a back up weapon with him. Jay who now crawled toward her through the bog, weighed down and hampered by her machete. One of the other things groaned and reached out for her, she ducked under its hands and shoved it hard in the chest, forcing it backward. The zombie lost its footing in the boggy ground and stumbled a couple of paces back. It gave Emily the chance to side step the other advancing monster, and give that one a shove on one putrid stinking shoulder, she felt the thin, wet flesh split under her aggression and a discoloured ooze started to seep into the already filthy cotton of his shirt. Emily gagged as the smell wafted under her nostrils and had to fight down rising bile. She shifted to the side, keeping to the thicker mud, her shoulder against the natural wall of the ravine.

"Who the fuck is she?" David said, loud enough for Emily to hear.
"Who cares? She's female, young and not bad looking. I got dibs on her!" Hamish said.
"What's yer name love?" Lara called down, butting in through the rising testosterone.
"Emily! Please don't let them get me! Please!"
"What's in it for us?!" Shouted the husband, casting his wife a sheepish look as he spoke.
His wife just eyed him with cold interest. He apparently took it for permission and carried on.
"How'd you get here, anyway?"
"By boat same as you, I'll answer your questions, just please help me!"

Emily blanched as she felt clammy fingers grab her bare thigh and as she looked down a combination of raw exposed distal phalanges and split blackened fingernails raked down her bare flesh, trying to gain purchase or pull her toward a waiting mouth. It was the monster who had followed the bird into the ravine, apparently breaking his legs on impact, had crawled within range of her now and had hold of her. Emily jumped in sheer horror as she saw the scraping extremities break through her silky skin and beads of blood welled up. She shook him free and the scratches didn't go deep but it shocked and disgusted her all the same. She lashed out with hands and feet, shoved him down, slammed a boot into his face, feeling rotten bone crunching and puss-ridden putrid flesh splitting like over-ripe fruit with her frantic retaliation. She pushed on with her foot using her weight to force the monster into the boggy ground, 'drowning' it in mud and leaves. The other two weren't close enough to cause her imminent danger and standing on the inert corpse she was able to take a breather and check her thigh wound. It wasn't as bad as she first feared, seemed reasonably clean, and it was their saliva that transmitted the disease as far as she understood. One of the McMann's called down to her.

"But love, why should we help you? Why would we put ourselves out for a stranger? Would you?"
"Please! I'm begging you! Don't let them... I can't hold them off much longer, I'm gonna get bit! I'm gonna die!"
"Tell us what's in it for us?!" Hamish growled, sounding equal parts horny, impatient and annoyed.

She was about to reply when one of the two standing undead lunged at her, managing to grab her left arm. Before Emily could recoil or react, the zombie latched onto her forearm with its rotten maw and bit down hard. Emily screamed and tried to yank her arm free, panicking, her heart pounding practically in the back of her throat, she wrenched and pushed at the monster as it bit down on her double layer polyester sleeve. She was fortunate that the thick fabric of her jacket protected her skin, the monster's teeth were rotten and loose in the heavily receded gums and couldn't get enough bite to penetrate fabric or skin, still in her wild screaming panic Emily wrenched her arm free and the aggressive movement dislocated the thing's jaw and tugged a number of its teeth out of its mouth, the loosened mandible bone swung down in the pouch of rank and discoloured flesh, the lower jaw hanging completely loose from the face, the horseshoe shaped appendage swinging and slapping against its gulping throat. She pushed it back so it staggered off balance and then followed the shove with a hard kick to the ribs that sent it sprawling onto its back in the mud.

Immediately she was yanking up her sleeve to check her arm for bite wounds that would, if present, provide the physical evidence of her imminent demise, either by her own hand or by one of her family. Under no circumstances was she going to wait to turn, or worse, let allow one of the McMann's kill her.
Fortune was continuing to favour Emily however, as the bite had not penetrated her sleeve or her skin, there was a little redness from the pressure of the bite but there was no break to the skin. She knew instinctively that her luck was going to run out any moment and she had to get out of this trap, by any means necessary.

"Please! I'm gonna die!"
"Like I said, what's in it for us?"
"Anything you want, please! I'll do whatever you want just get them the fuck off me! Hurry!"
"I'm horny love, you gonna see me right?" Hamish grunted with lusty, excited amusement.
"And me!" David piped in.
"And she has to eat me out too!" Lara spat, not wanting to be left behind.
Emily felt her anger rising. As she pushed a monster out of reach for the umpteenth time.
"Fucking men..." She muttered under her breath. "...Fucking perverts..."

Finally, she snapped back at them.

"Alright, whatever you want, I'll do it... But you have to save me first... For fuck's sake!!"

The 'deal' struck, they didn't waste any time. David and Hamish drew out a heavy cleaver and a long Bowie knife respectively and rushed down into the boggy ravine. David drove the cleaver hard into the skull base of the loose jawed zombie while Hamish skirted around the edge of the ravine, grabbed Emily by the upper arm and pulled her past two corpses, one stumbling forward after her, the other (Jay with Emily's machete still embedded in his skull) reaching up toward her from the ground. She was pulled over to the shallow end and then shoved aside as Hamish turned to take on the undead pursuers.

[Nickamano]

Chapter 7

Emily ran. She didn't hesitate and didn't look back. She didn't run toward Lara and her pet monster either. She ran up out of the ravine and off into the woods and she knew exactly where she was headed and for what purpose. Though the exact location of that purpose she had yet to pin down. She was halfway there before she started to wonder about the actions of the McMann's. They had put the undead onto the farm specifically to kill, or at least distract Bear and Aunt Sal so they could finish them, and Emily's Nan, once and for all. They had been unaware of Emily herself, and as a young and reasonably attractive female she was no doubt a commodity in their eyes. But why would they kill the zombies in the ravine? And why would they allow her to run away? Surely, they would have been pursuing her rather than loose her or have her killed by other undead.

She proved herself right as, moments later, she heard them behind her crashing through the undergrowth, closing in, shouting and laughing, enjoying the hunt. What they were shouting was lost in distortions and echoes but they were obviously having fun chasing her down like jackals after a doe.
They caught up to her about ten seconds after she had got to her intended location and that was when her luck ran out. She was rugby tackled to the ground by David, a second before Hamish caught up and threw himself onto the two of them. Lara seemed to catch up a few seconds later but she remained to one side, keeping her distance and watching. Her pet monster was nowhere to be seen.
Emily struggled for a bit but knew she wouldn't be able to fight them both off and escape, she was unarmed and there were two of them, rough and strong and driven by lust. It strengthened their desire, their resolve and their determination. Emily realised she had no chance and she gave in after a bit of struggling and suffering a couple of light punches to the stomach and annoyed slaps across the face.

"Okay, okay! Enough! Do what you want, I'll do what you tell me." She panted in defeat.

She was rolled onto her back and Hamish pressed up alongside her, half leaning over her while one hand started to caress her bare thighs. David knelt on her other side and nonchalantly hiked up her skirt, then with some difficulty and reluctant cooperation from Hamish, rucked the length of Emily's jacket up onto her chest, exposing her braless breasts to the cool woodland air. Hamish quickly got back into position and pressed his lips onto Emily's hungrily.
He forced his long tongue past her parted lips and licked all around the inside of her mouth filthily, Emily half-heartedly kissed him back, not wanting to anger him but not wanting to reciprocate either. It was the twins all over again, although at the moment these two seemed to be somewhat less sadistic and aggressive.

David got his hands to her thighs and spread them apart. She didn't resist too much, she could feel his fingers and palms caressing the silky flesh of her inner thighs while Hamish's tongue continued to worm around the inside of her mouth freely. She could feel one hand, she assumed belonging to Hamish, cupping and squeezing one bared breast and then she felt lips lock onto the nipple of her other breast, obviously David at work, sucking on the cold-stiffened bud while he stroked her naked thighs, each caress sliding closer and closer to the plain white cotton gusset of her knickers.
Eventually, Hamish released her from choking on his tongue and she instinctively turned her head away, his tongue took advantage and snaked along her jaw and then into her ear to probe the organ disgustingly. Then his lips closed on her lobe while his hand continued to squeeze her breast and stroke the stiffened nipple with the pad of his thumb.
She looked around seeing the grey, cloudy sky through gaps in the woodland canopy. She was where she had wanted to be but she hadn't been allowed the time to find what she wanted from the land around the edge of the little stream where she had killed the McMann twin. Whichever one it had been. She locked eyes for a moment with Lara who stood against the trunk of an oak tree casually, watching her husband and brother preparing to commit a double rape. She watched with a glint in her crystal blue eyes and a smug little grin on her gorgeous young face.

"Roll her over Haym, I wanna see her arse." David said.
"Right."

And then Emily was being lifted and shunted around and her searching gaze was tossed around as her body was shifted hurriedly from one position to another. She was pressed down onto her front, on her knees with her arse up in the air but her chest and one side of her face pushed into the ground. Hamish knelt over her, one shin and knee across her shoulder blades, pinning her in place. She felt his hands grab and lift up the hem of her skirt again, gathering it around her waist, then his hands gripped the waistband of her plain white knickers and, taking his time for David's benefit, he drew the garment down over the heart shaped curves of Emily's broad hips and pert bottom and down her shapely thighs to her knees. She let out a sudden gasp at the feel of the cool air kissing her pubic mound and exposed anus. David let out a groan of appreciation.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck the hell outta that!" Someone grunted.

Hamish's hands didn't stay still for long, as almost at once Emily felt fingers and thumbs touching her most intimate parts, caressing her pussy lips, spreading them, pushing between them. One thumb was lubed with spittle and then unceremoniously shoved up her bottom as deep as he could manage.

"Keep calm... Stay calm and wait for an opportunity."

She repeated it to herself over and over, in her head, like a mantra, feeding off it, gaining self-assurance, culling the rising anxiety.

"Get your mouth in here Dave and lube her up a bit." Hamish grunted from above her.

She tried her best to disassociate the physical experiences from her intent, using the fact of the men being distracted by her body to look around for the reason she had come to the stream. Inexplicably, it had popped into her mind when she had seen Undead-Jay with the machete in his head, the McMann twin had had a pistol and she had used the metal pole to knock it out of his hand. Thinking back, she thought she remembered seeing it skitter off to the right of the stream, out of the corner of her eye, which was more or less where she was lying. So, it had to be around here somewhere.
She felt David move in close behind her, his hands closing on her perky buttocks to squeeze them cruelly. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on her search but he was distracting her, his hands digging into her flesh, then a palm coming down repeatedly on her bottom, spanking her painfully. Hard stinging slaps. The cracking noise bouncing around the surrounding woods.
Then he shoved a finger into her pussy, followed it with a second, feeling her heat, her dryness. He held her open with his fingers and then thrust his mouth against her, wet lips smacking, tongue protruding, penetrating her, lapping, spittle drooling freely over her tender flesh. She shivered, squirming with disgust, at the feel of him, the sounds he was making.

Trying to focus on her task and not their pleasure, she craned her head incessantly, struggling to not let David's attentions keep her from her essential task. She stared into ground level shaded areas around her for unusual reflections and highlights and shapes. All the while David ate her pussy, licking, kissing, sucking, slobbering. Tonguing her with the hard tip and the softer surface, searching for her clitoris, licking at it and making the shivers of disgust turn to shivers of self-loathing as her body started to respond to his oral caresses. She tried to switch her mind off, repress her burgeoning emotional state and concentrate on finding that pistol.

"Oh yeah, little slut's juicing up nicely."
"Fucking whore. Get her turned over Davey-boy.” Hamish said. “I'm feeling generous. You can ball her first. But I'm not having no sloppy seconds, so you pull out and dump your wad on her belly or tits or something."
"Sure, whatever..."

David pulled away and she was grabbed and lifted and hefted and rolled onto her back again, shifted backwards across the ground toward a tree and deposited back down on the floor. This time Hamish was behind her, sitting with his back against a tree, her head was in his lap, she could feel the hot, hard bulge of his dick against the back of her neck and head. He lifted his feet one by one and stepped between her torso and arms so his legs pinned her shoulders with his heels almost in her armpits. David crawled over and yanked off her knickers completely, leaving the skirt in place and her boots on. Then he slapped her legs apart, wider and wider until he was satisfied.

"She got lucky with that scratch." He commented, idly glancing at three parallel scrapes on her upper left thigh. "Barely broke the skin."
"Fuck do you care?" Hamish grunted.

David shrugged and then went down on her again, feasting on her delectable pussy, clutching at the soft, baby-like flesh on the tops of her inner thighs. The brother was repositioning Emily's rucked up top again, making sure her perky young breasts were out in the open and unencumbered by fabric. He cupped them both in his hands, squeezing, caressing the orbs and then snatching onto a nipple and tweaking it between forefinger and thumb. Emily let out a gasp in reaction but she was intent, searching around them, gazing into the shadows with her peripheral vision still.

"Huh, like that do you? Bit of a dirty one this, eh Davey?"
"Haha! Yeah, seems that way!" David said.

He pulled back from pussy eating just long enough to voice his agreement, then pressed his mouth back onto the pretty lips of her naked peach.
However, after another few seconds he removed his mouth from her slick pussy, noisily hawked up a mouthful of saliva and them spat it deliberately between her spread lips. Then he took hold of his erection and positioned it against her pouting pussy lips.

"I'm going to make sure you feel this." He said to her, ginning with excitement. "I want you to remember what a real man feels like. What real fucking feels like. Are you ready for some real fucking?"
"Shut up and get it up her you prick!" Hamish snapped.

David flushed with embarrassment and focussed on Emily's pussy, he leaned in and bore down on her. Gripping his hard shaft, he pushed the underside of his thick, swollen helmet against her soft, pink lips, pushing his cock head forward to splay her open so her pussy mouth spread around its circumference.
He teased her for a second or two, sliding his sensitive crown up and down the cleft of her cute little pussy before changing the angle and asserting weight behind his erection as he started to push into her reluctant young body.
Emily gritted her teeth and had to squeeze her eyes shut but she couldn't hold back the groan as she was penetrated by the man's cock. She found herself involuntarily struggling under their combined grip and against the hurriedly commenced, hard pummelling assault that David was now inflicting on her. Hamish tightened the grip of his legs around her shoulders and the grasp of his excited hands that continued to paw at her breasts. She was going nowhere. The fight went out of her as quickly as it had commenced and she seemed to settle down to the forced fuck. Once again, Emily focussed all her attention on the search for the device she counted on to save her.

David leaned in and pounded her harder still, grunting with his raping pleasure, gripping her at the waist, and pulling her back onto his pummelling shaft. He grabbed her legs and hooked her knees onto his shoulders driving into her, slamming his hips onto her bottom. Emily averted her head as best she could but now Hamish was also getting riled up. He started fidgeting at first and his grasp of her breasts tightened until it was painful and Emily found herself whimpering again. Hamish grunted with sadistic glee and took hold of her nipples, pulling at them, lifting the orbs of her breasts by his pincer grip of her stiff nipples. Emily's whimper elevated to a little whining moan.

"Huh, like that do you? Slut." Hamish grunted.

He shifted his weight, lifting his crotch up from under her head until he was kneeling over her with her head between his thighs and his broad buttocks right above her face. He let go of her bosom long enough to tug his erection out of his pants. Emily didn't get to see it, she heard and felt him spitting lube onto her breasts and then he leaned down and thrust his cock between them, shoved them tight together with both clawing, horny hands. It hurt Emily and she wailed her condemnation but of course they ignored her and there was nothing else she could do. The men raped her pussy and tits at the same time, Hamish all but blocking her view of her surroundings as well.

The tit fuck didn't last long. She was not built like her Aunt Sal and Hamish grew impatient and disappointed and leaned off her. Then, even worse, he slipped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled upward so her head rolled back, the top of her skull pressing into the ground. Without a word he leaned forward again and pushed his hot pulsing cock against her inverted lips and as she obediently opened her mouth, he thrust home, deep and aggressive.
It was probably the most awkward and painful blow job Emily had ever attempted. He held her head, one hand at the back of her neck and the other at her throat, pulling her head forward and back almost as much as he was thrusting. His balls were still inside his pants but she could feel their weight bashing her face and her nose and the cold metal zipper at his crotch scratched at her mouth and cheeks. He battered her face with his hips and her upside-down throat was forced to open again and again for his deep throat drilling thrusts. All Emily could do was concentrate on breathing through her nose when she could.
Eventually though Hamish gave up on the difficult throat fuck and pulled out.

"Oh, fuck this, I wanna bang this bitch. Davey-boy, get her up on top of you so I can fuck her at the same time."
"Hurt the little slut Haym!" Lara cackled from off to their left. "Fuck her in the arse!"
"Nah, ain't into that, sis..."
"I will,” David said, “but I'm saving her arse for later."

No one reacted. They repositioned her quickly between them, lifting and flipping her over. Hamish held her tight while David lay down, finding a comfortable position away from stones, twigs, pine-cones and nettles. The brother forced more French kisses on her and squeezed her breasts and ass, rubbing at her hot pussy until David was ready, then he dumped her face down on top of him and allowed David to position her and shove his cock back into her pussy.
Hamish paused for a moment, seemingly rethinking his refusal to fuck her in the arse. He even went so far as to lean in and spit on her sphincter.

Emily lay there, bent over David's lap as he restarted his aggressive rape from beneath her, while her bare buttocks were squeezed and slapped by Hamish. She could feel cold spittle against her bottom and then fingers pressing against her puckered sphincter. Panic ruptured her increasingly desperate mind and she convulsed and struggled against the unexpected invasion but still she was held fast and fucked hard while two fingers pushed as far as they could into her contracting anus.
Her eyes went wide and her focus was torn away from her desperate search, but that was the exact moment that she spotted it. Her eyesight didn't fail her, glancing into the shadows beneath a collection of brown and green bracken fronds, Emily saw the unmistakable plastic gleam, the straight-line highlight of sunlight on polished black plastic, the diamond cross-hatch of the grips, the light touching and tracing the curve of the trigger safety. The Twins' lost pistol.

Hamish seemed to change his mind at the last second, she could feel him pushing the head of his dick against her anal mouth, hard and insistent, trying to force his way inside but then he just released her. The next second he was squatting down near her face pushing his erection toward her.

"Suck me. Do a good job and I might not feel the need to rip you an new arse hole." He grunted, rubbing his cock head against her lips.

Without comment, Emily opened her mouth and he thrust in deep, sliding his hands into her hair and pulling her deep onto the shaft, shunting it straight past her uvula and into her convulsing throat. She almost gagged on it but managed to control the reflex and took him all the way in.
She worked with him while he liberally face-fucked her, keeping her lips and tongue tight and suctioning to his slick, thrusting shaft while keeping her teeth well away as he thrust into her throat. And then whipping her tongue quickly back and forth across the underside as he drew back toward her lips. Listening to his appreciative groans, Emily maintained the suctioning, tonguing action all the way, keeping pace and following his erratic rhythm as best she could.
Under her, Emily felt David craning his neck to snatch hold of a shuddering breast with his lips, catching it between his teeth and then holding it in his mouth while he lapped at it and sucked hard. That meant he had a face full of her breast. Blindly and hoping she wasn't in plain sight of Lara, Emily reached out and felt for the hard plastic and metal of the pistol with her fingertips.
Her pictured memory of the location proved accurate, which was a relief, as she felt the hard smoothness of the handle against her fingers, she stretched further and felt the diamond cross-hatching of the grips, got her nails into the machined grooves then started to pull the weapon back towards her. Once it was close enough, she encircled the grip in her hand, blindly slipping her index finger around the trigger, feeling the trigger safety and the weight of the partially loaded handgun and then hefted it in her grip adjusting its position, she knew enough that she didn't have to flick off a safety catch or cock a hammer or pull back a slide. All she had to do was point and shoot and hope there were enough bullets remaining to do the job. She could hear David underneath her grunting more and more loudly as he thrust, raping his way closer and closer to his climax, his lips were away from her nipples but his face was still mashed into her chest, apparently enjoying the shuddering sway of her breasts.

Recognising how fast her heart was hammering, Emily mentally steeled herself and then seized her opportunity. By feel, she quickly shoved the muzzle up hard between Hamish's buttocks using the position of her hand to try her best to angle the pistol vertically and not anywhere near herself, hoping for his anus. And then she pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack and a jolt in her hand that jarred her wrist, she was twisted by the impact and not quite prepared for the recoil. She wasn't prepared for the sheer volume of the agonised screams that after a second's shocked delay tore from Hamish's oesophagus.
Immediately she switched to her second target, shoving the pistol against David's skull, who had frozen stock still apparently confused - head back against the ground looking up at his screaming brother-in-law, and shot him through the side of the head, even as Hamish fell back against the tree, hoarsely screaming in inconceivable agony.
Again, the recoil jarred her already sore wrist and she felt the heat from the muzzle flash across her chest and neck and then a thunderous splattering concussion as David's head was turned inside out by the point-blank shot. The contents of his skull sculpted a Jackson Pollack across the forest ground and splattered gore against Emily's left hand.
At once she was lifting herself and the pistol at the same time, her eyes whipping around to her left, searching out Lara who was standing there, pale and aghast, slack mouthed, a deafening scream imminent. Lara was panicked and shaken by the unexpected murder of her husband and brother and it gave Emily the time she required. She had noticed as she brought the pistol up to bear, that the slide was locked back, showing the gun was empty.

In the same split second, as she consciously planned her next move, a quick flash of memory popped into her head - herself and Jay sitting at the edge of a forest with their backs to a tree while Dean finished erecting the tent for the night.
Emily had asked Jay to show her how to load, fire and reload guns in case they ever got their hands on one. Jay had owned a few gun books and had learned the theory by reading about them, he'd never fired more than BB guns himself but he had known enough to be able to talk her though the processes with verbal descriptions and doodles on an A4 notepad he always carried in his backpack. Emily had found it fun and educational despite her lack of interest in such things, it felt like she was pro-actively helping herself, educating herself with survival techniques, beyond lighting fires, edible and none edible wild fauna, reading directions with how moss grows on trees and laying simple traps for catching small animals. At first, she hadn't paid much attention, assuming Jay was teaching her just as an excuse to be close to her and to talk to her. She didn't want to encourage him any more than accepting his help and guidance already was doing. She was Dean's and always would be.
Their lesson had been interrupted by Dean, looking thunderously jealous and snapping at Emily to come over to their tent.
He hadn't voiced his annoyance but the hard face fuck he had inflicted on her the second the tent flap had been closed, along with the aggressive sodomy that came after, had been evidence enough. The rough anal had also made the following day’s long march really uncomfortable too. Of course, she had taken all of it out on Jay at the time.

A new thought suddenly developed. Had Dean taken advantage much more than she had ever thought? Certainly, sexually their relationship had benefited him much more than it had her, looking back that was a certainty. And it suddenly stung her, tainted her memories of their relationship. Could it be that he hadn't loved or respected her as much as she had always believed he had? And because of that maybe she hadn't been particularly fair to Jay.

She threw the empty pistol at Lara and then threw herself at Hamish's belt, who had finally gone limp and silent. His sheathed Bowie knife was strapped to one of those cowboy style belts, thick leather with a big heavy oval shaped brass buckle. By the time Emily had tugged the belt free and drawn the knife, Lara had managed to draw her own kitchen knife and in a red-rage ran at her. Remembering another 'Jay-tip' - she gripped the belt in one hand, holding it by the leather end and the knife in the other.
Lara's attacks were uncontrolled and he was screaming as she slashed and chopped at her enemy. Emily kept her distance and let Lara wear herself out, her eventual retaliations came in the form of using the belt as a flail, smashing it onto Lara's arm whenever her knife came within range. It hurt and infuriated Lara whose slashing attacks grew more and more uncontrolled, and it wasn't long before Emily saw her chance and took it.

She stepped in closer after avoiding yet another slashing attack and whipped the belt down hard so that it spiralled around Lara's knife arm like a bull whip and took hold. Then Emily yanked downward dragging Lara off balance and pulling her toward Emily, who stepped in to meet her and thrust the big Bowie knife hard up under her chin. The blade bit deep and sunk into the flesh of the younger woman's jaw, piercing her tongue and throat and thumping hard into her soft palate. The lovely twenty something fell back, gasping like a fish out of water, eyes bugged out in sheer disbelief. She gagged and choked and coughed and blood burst from her pinned apart lips. Emily skipped forward and slammed a boot into the chrome pommel of the knife, kicking the remaining inches through her palate and into her brain, finishing her off with a single kick.
She watched Lara die, idly pulling her chest-snagged top back down so her nakedness was covered and then smoothing her skirt back into position. And then, deciding her machete was still her best weapon, she ran back to the ravine to get it back.

Lara's pet monster was lying face down with his trousers around his ankles still, dragging himself along the ground between the ravine and Emily but he had only managed twenty metres or so. He was easy to dispatch. One foot to pin his reaching hand, a knee on his back and Lara's kitchen knife stabbed down hard and deep into the base of his skull severing the spinal connection to his brain and silencing him once and for all. She ran on to the top of the ravine and looked down at the scene below.
Emily had been right to question the McMann's uninhibited desire to cull their own zombie soldiers. Only one of them had been decapitated and that had been the one whose jaw she had ripped apart, he wouldn't have been any help to them anyway. Undead-Jay and the one with broken legs seemed to be lying dormant in the bog, Jay was half sunk in the muddy water but interestingly the machete had moved a little from where she had left it. It gave her hope that removing it might be possible after all. The first of the zombies to have entered the ravine, chasing the magpie, was lying dormant and broken, face down with its half-submerged legs twisted in unnatural positions. And that just left the other one whose shoulder she had turned to mulch. He was inching his way along the edge of the rock wall of the ravine toward the shallow end, slow and aimless but still he was upright and relatively undamaged and as such was the most dangerous of the three of them. However, she still had her speed and agility.
She skipped up to the monster with the open wound on his shoulder, puss-filled and reeking, the shirt sleeve visibly saturated with putrid rotten flesh-matter and shoved him hard in the chest then raced past him toward Undead-Jay. She used the face down, dormant bird chaser zombie as an undead bridge, stepping onto him and advancing from squishy buttocks along the small of his back, until she found the more stable platform of his shoulder blades. He was too weighed down and drowned by the boggy rainwater and rotten leaves to put up much resistance and she was able to reach across and grab the handle of her machete from behind Undead-Jay.

It took a bit of back and forth and twisting and tugging before the blade came free and Emily nearly fell off balance a couple of times, but she managed it and then turned the long heavy blade onto the thing underneath her and chopped deep into the back of its skull and chopped and chopped, until its quivering, shaking movements had ceased and the back of its head was like a roughly shuffled deck of playing cards.
She climbed off her corpse bridge and went after the shoulder damaged zombie next, using a two-handed horizontal backhand tennis swing to completely decapitate him, enjoying the arms-length extra distance that the machete afforded her.
Undead-Jay came last and not without a noticeable layer of sorrow in the act. She stood on the body of bird chaser and looked down at Jay who was trying to wade through the bog, arms flailing, mouth agape and moaning, but eyes aflame with a different kind of lust than she was used to seeing. She found a sad smile forming and the words followed, spoken to and for herself.

"Thanks for all your help these last months, Jay. You got me to where I needed to be, and I know I used you and never treated you as well as I should. But now you're a part of my past. I have a new future Jay, and you're not a part of it. All I can do is give you peace."

She took a moment, sighed and then slammed the machete into the side of his neck, tugged it hard to free it, hacked at him again and again as he fell sideways into the bog, until his lust filled eyes dimmed and his head finally came away from his shoulders.

"I should probably bury you properly or something." She muttered to herself. "But I can't right now. Maybe this evening."

She picked up the head by his lank, matted, oily hair and tossed it toward the shallow end and then had a go at pulling the headless body free of the bog, but the suction and weight was too much for her alone. She gave up and headed back through the woods for the pathway that lead back through the fields to the house.

<><><>

She saw Bear heading her way as soon as she emerged from the woods, he was crossing the fields from the East and changed direction to intercept her, displaying a visible bounce to his stride once he had spotted her. His grin seemed to grow with each metre that receded between them. Emily checked her watch. About an hour and a half had passed so they weren't even meant to be meeting up yet.
Her first reaction on seeing him was that it was sweet of him.

"He's worried about me." She thought.

She changed direction to meet him. But one thought quickly led her to another.

"Does he think I can’t look after myself? What do I have to do to prove I'm capable? …No, he knows I can take care of myself, or he wouldn't have left me on my own this morning. He's just cleared his own area and wanted to make sure I was okay because he cares about me. I'd probably be heading for his area if I got back to the house first and he wasn't there waiting for me... "

Emily couldn't help her own broadening smile as he got closer. And even noticed a little fluttering in her stomach, a warmth in her chest.

"Hiya." She said.
"You okay?" He asked, looking her over.
"Fine, you?"

He was muddy like her and semi congealed, black-looking blood was splattered on his clothes and there were smears of it on one side of his face. Emily realised that she probably looked quite similar.

"Yep... This isn't my blood." He said.

She glanced down at herself, muddy boots and legs, blood on her hands and coating the tip of one boot.

"Same here."

She could see he wanted to ask her about the blood, but instead they turned toward the path that led back to the house and headed in that direction side by side.

"I found six of them." Bear started to explain. "Took their heads, piled them up and burned them. Then I searched the whole area, right back to the house. Your Auntie Sal got another four, plus the three she already dealt with before she got us up..."
"That makes thirteen. So, with the five I've taken care of... Well, that's all of them, isn't it?"
"Eighteen, yeah! Great! Nice work, Em."

He cast another long look over her, but Emily said nothing. She was looking at the heavy grey overcast clouds and the cold wind that was picking up rapidly.

"You look like you need another shower, kiddo."
"Yeah." She replied, laughing. "I got scratched on the leg too. Here."

She stopped lifted up the hem of her skirt to show of the creamy tops of her thighs with the three narrow, raw looking scratches prominent against the succulent smooth flesh.
Bear stared, he practically gulped and Emily, with a smirk, couldn't fail to notice the bulge already starting to fill out in the crotch of his heavy-duty denim trousers.
A little fantasy slipped into Emily's mind's eye in the second Bear took to look over the scratches on her upper thigh. She saw him dropping solemnly to one knee, gently putting his fingertips onto her thigh to examine the scratches more closely and then he leaned in closer and his lips parted, covering the raw flesh surrounding her meagre wound. She felt his soft lips and hot breath making her flesh tingle and easing the throbbing pain beneath the scratches. And then his tongue was there, touching gently, licking softly, lapping at her flesh, tasting her, cleaning the marks. All too soon his hands encircled her tightly, hugging the soft cool flesh of her legs to him, while his soothing tongue and suckling lips grew more animated and voracious. And Emily felt the pangs of excitement tantalising her core, her vagina throbbed and swelled and she felt her juices begin to flow. Bear's hands shifted onto her naked ass cheeks, gripping her buttocks, squeezing hard, showing off the depths of his lust, revelling on the feel of her and the lustful intoxication she caused within him. Emily pushed her fingers through his shaggy mane and lifted his face higher, away from the soothing tickles he was plying to her wound and reassigning his lips and tongue to her swollen pussy and pulsing clitoris. She held his head tightly against her and started to gyrate against his face as he obediently went to town on her pussy. And she let out a long, low moan of deep and distinct pleasure as she felt the cresting wave of her orgasm building, as rapidly as she had ever experienced.

"We'll get that cleaned and dressed before lunch. Doesn't look too bad." He grunted, breaking the spell of the fantasy moment.
"Bear...?"
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"I... Killed three of the McMann's as well."
"What? Who? What happened?"
"The brother and sister and the sister's husband. Hamish, Lara and… David, I think."
"Jesus, girl! What the Hell happened?"

[Nickamano]

Chapter 8

A storm had erupted the evening following the undead invasion and the Heddaby farm had been forced to batten down its hatches and pull the animals into the barns for safety. As the night drew late, they spent a few hours planning their counter invasion and pulling together what supplies they could. Then they slept. Emily was sore and a little shaken from the previous day so she and Bear left each other alone. And everyone was hyped up and worrying over the coming night attack, so little sleep was managed.

However, slept came to each of them sooner or later. They awoke at three in the morning with the use of well-maintained old fashioned wind-up alarm clocks. And with the worst of the storm having passed over them, they set about preparing themselves, dressing in dull and dark clothing, strapping on their chosen weapons and then loaded themselves into the boat and set off over calming seas.
The three of them, Emily, Bear and Sally crossed the relatively peaceful stretch of the Atlantic that night, grateful for the relatively calm seas and berthed their boat to the Hensley wharf. They stayed low and waited for a while before disembarking, just in case they had been seen docking, but the island was in pitch darkness so they headed off.

The pathway forked to left and right and Bear took the left path while Sally and Emily took the right, sliding into a little copse of trees and advancing toward the orchard. Bear, Nan and Sally had worked out a rough map from memory of the layout of the Hensley farm, its fields and outbuildings.
They spotted the first of the undead within the tree line that separated the farm from the rough ground that, in turn, buffered the gravel beach. It was roped around the neck to a tree almost like a guard dog, though this time around the bite was worse than the bark.

The women crouched down in the tree line on the edge of the orchard and looked into the darkness, it was a cloudy night with a crescent moon so the available illumination was meagre to say the least. Emily was paranoid about the ground. It was water logged from the storm a few hours earlier and there were plenty of muddy patches and large puddles. She decided to keep close to the trees, their roots should provide a bit of stability, a more solid surface than further away, where the grass and earth was probably soft, cloying mud.
She also knew well enough how best to cancel out the risk the zombie represented, but she was still hesitant and nervous, knowing how do kill it and getting up to actively accomplish that were entirely different. She glanced over at her aunt.

"You scared Auntie Sal?" She asked.
"God, yeah, honey. Definitely..."
"So am I." Emily breathed. "So let's just get on with it."
"Right, I'll go left, get its attention. You come around the other side of the tree and put it down."
"Right. Be careful."
"You too, honey."

There were actually three of the things amongst the trees of the orchard all loosely roped or chained to trunks with enough slack to allow them to wander a little and, incidentally, get themselves tangled. The women worked quickly and quietly, it was almost as if it was a practised technique. They used the trees as obstacles, as shields and traps to confuse the things and keep themselves as safe as possible. Sally ran up to a zombie so it saw her and lunged for her, then skipped backward, putting a tree between herself and it, keeping her distance but all the while maintaining the thing's interest in her while Emily sneaked around from the other side and moved in close. Then, using her machete, Emily hacked at its head and neck, taking it to the ground and then carrying on until its head was free of its shoulders and it had stopped moving altogether.

They repeated the method a second time and this time Sally actually got the monster to chase her around the tree it was chained to, wrapping the length of the chain around and around the slender trunk until its chain was short enough to stop it in its tracks. Then between them, the women hacked it to pieces. Emily's machete and a large, two-foot Kukri knife that Sally had brought, made short work of its putrid and rotting limbs and finally its head.
The last one Emily took out on her own. She turned, zeroed in on its loping groaning form, sprinted over to it from one side. She burst out of the long, inky shadows of the orchard's apple trees and chopped into its collar with a massive two-handed swing. The head came free after a second chop to the opposite side of its neck, as if Emily were felling a tree, and the head slid backward, the spine severed and nothing more than a handful of tendons and scraps of flesh preventing a complete decapitation.

Between the deliberately wide spaced straight rows of fruit trees was an unobstructed view of the fascia and front garden of the McMann's farmhouse. It resembled a double size bungalow. A fairly recent build, it was wide and squat with modern roofing tiles and clean bricks and UPVC double glazed widows and doors, there was no activity in the house, no visible candle light or oil lamps lit, no doors or windows open that they could see.
However, it was the tree house in the leafless boughs of the huge sycamore tree to the left of the bungalow that caught Emily's attention. It wasn't much of a tree house, floorboards forming a square base more than six square feet, vertical supports in each corner attached to a slated roof with tarpaulin walls and a rope with widely spaced knots and a tyre attached to the end as the way in. There was a human silhouette in the tree-house, a blurred grey shape through the plastic walls, backlit by a meagre light.
Off to the left was a flash of reflected light, a momentary sliver, there and then gone. It happened a second time and Sally touched Emily's shoulder.

"Bear's over there, to the left. Let's meet up with him." She whispered.

Emily nodded and followed her aunt's lead. They skirted the muddy, unkempt grassy border between the orchard and the front garden, using undergrowth, an old wooden cart, a discarded plough share and a small half collapsed shed as cover. Once beyond the orchard and its no man's land border, they kept low and ran across an open fallow field, leaped over a low wire fence, vaulting over the thick wooden stakes that formed the vertical supports of the fence and met up with Bear behind another small shed, in sight of the front of the farmhouse.

"Okay, girls?" Bear asked in a whisper.

The women nodded, all three of them silently observing the drawn bladed weapons and stains of blood, gore, hair and smears of puss evident on each of the recently honed edges.

"You?" Emily whispered back, unable to repress a smile at her new man.
"Yeah, sure. Couple of undead sentries, same as you two by the looks of things." He said.

A quick nod at the gore patterned blades. They all cast eyes across the farmhouse again and then up at the sycamore tree as the silhouette moved casually inside the tree-house. Emily noticed that there was a long chain encircling the tree trunk, the length of which led up into the tree house and disappeared inside. It moved and clinked lazily, a quiet and gentle enough sound though in the dead of night it was almost like a car alarm going off. Not that anyone had heard a car alarm on years.

"Em," Bear whispered. "Can you get up that rope? We can keep you covered with the guns from down here."
"Yeah, I should think so." She replied, looking up at the tree-house and then working out her route over to the tree.
"Keep down and keep quiet and you should be okay getting the drop on whoever's inside." Sally added.

Emily watched the other two for a second as they readied the firearms they had brought as back up, if the stealthy assault failed. Sally carried the Glock handgun with the remaining four bullets. It wasn't the one Emily had used; it was the one that had belonged to the twin she had cut with the roof slate. Bear had a side-by-side shotgun slung over his shoulder by a length of garden twine. He only had two shells for it though. Emily thought about the noise it would create in the dead of night, and the difficulty of trying to hit someone up in the tree house, while she was suspended on the rope leading to it.

"Wait. This isn't going to work.” She said. “If he spots me and calls out there's nothing I can do. I'll be stuck halfway up the rope. And it'll be hard to hit him up there too. Even ignoring the distance and bad light, there's plenty of branches to get in the way."

Bear paused, thinking, looking at his shotgun and then up a into the branches of the tree.

"You may be right, Em."
"What about burning it down? Set fire to the tree, make a fire bomb or something." Sally suggested.
"A molotov? Suppose there'll be alcohol or cooking oil or paraffin or something in the house..." Bear replied.
"Damn. There's not going to be any need. Look."

Emily drew their attention back to the tree-house. The person inside was climbing down the knotted rope, he kept turning to look in their direction as he descended. At least he was definitely living, no zombie could climb a rope.
Emily noticed the chain was padlocked around his throat. He appeared unarmed and he came over to them easily with his hands down by his sides and yet away from his body fingers open and spread apart to show he wasn't hiding anything.
The chain didn't allow him to get all the way to the shed they were crouched behind but there was another broad trunked tree about half the distance so Emily made her way stealthily across to meet him there.

He was small and thin with curly hair that was probably lustrous and handsome a few years ago but was now receding and untidy. He was skinny and wiry, as though he should have been tall but his body had failed all the necessary growth spurts. He was wearing the same jumper, jeans and trainers as when he had come over to Heddaby with the McMann's. His eyes were nice, kind and intelligent and sharp but there was a tiredness there and a sense of the defeated was etched into his whole sallow cheeked face. He had a weak chin that was still plain even through the scrabbly beard. The rust coloured chain around his neck was not tight or heavy but it was robust nonetheless and the padlock was new polished steel and seemed pretty substantial. The rust coating on the thick links had left a discolouration around his neck.
Emily watched him watch her. His eyes were plain and easy to read and his face reflected his thoughts. She watched as he looked her over. His eyes sliding over her curves, which were obvious even beneath the dark green knitted jumper she was wearing and the snug fitting dark navy jeans. His eyes settled momentarily on the shadowed juncture of her plump thighs and then the twin orbs of her perky breasts, made to appear larger than life by the thick woollen covering of her jumper. Emily wouldn't have been surprised to have watched him lick his lips. However, when his eyes lifted to hers and caught her watching him coldly, a deep flush spread across his cheeks and his eyes darted about with embarrassment. Eventually he spoke to her though it was another couple of seconds before he looked her in the eye.

"I'm Neil. Neil Heston. I want you to know I'm not your enemy and I don't mean any of you any harm. Are you from Heddaby?"
"Emily O'Brien." Emily nodded. "You're not part of the family are you?"
"No, I was forced here against my will and made to work. I understand what you're here to do. And after what they did to you all, I'm not surprised you're retaliating. I have to say I'm shocked to see you all alive!" He said, almost stammering.

It was obvious he was terrified, he spoke in a fast whisper, eyes almost bulging from their sockets, face visibly pale even in the darkness.
"What do you do for them?" Emily asked, keeping one eye on the man and the other on the house beyond.
"I was a nurse, started training as a medical student before it all went to shit. But I've been labouring mostly. It's a big farm and other than Ewan and Claire the family are a bunch of layabouts, so there's always more and more work that needs doing. And the crops and animals haven't been doing well and there's been less and less to eat and of course, I'm at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to a share of the food."
"I'll have to let Bear decide about you." Emily said more to herself than to Neil. "Is the house locked?"
"Yes but I know where they keep a spare key out here. And I know the layout."
"Who else is there? How many more on the island?"
"Just the two of them. I assume you've killed the others. Not that I blame for that. Fucking psychos, the lot of them."

Emily spotted the first hint of a temper in him then, a flash of redundant bile, which given the direction his life had been dragged in by the McMann's, she was not at all surprised about.

"Okay, I'm going to talk to Bear. Stick yourself behind the tree, out of sight of the house and stay there. I believe you at the moment but if you give me a reason, I won't think twice about killing you too. And just to be clear we have guns and can shoot you down before you reach the house." She said.
"The chain won't let me get close to the house but I take your meaning. I won't move an inch, I promise."

Emily nodded and backed up to where Bear and Sally waited.

<><><>

The conversation had already taken place earlier, in the planning stage around the dining table. Bear had been unwavering in his assertion that the remaining McMann's had to be killed, that any other method would allow them the chance for revenge and they were the kind to carry on a family feud without end. It would end in more deaths and at least some of those could well be Emily, Sally or Bea or Bear himself. And that couldn't be allowed. He was well aware of the slave however, even if he didn't know him by name. And was adamant that where possible he should be spared as long as he didn't show any loyalty to the McMann's or take up arms against the three of them when they went across. No one argued with that. However, there was long discussion about the act of the assault on Hensley Island in the first place.
For a long time, it had been two for and two against. Bear and Sally were all for going over and finishing off the family and taking whatever goods they had that could be useful. Bea was against it and Emily kept her own opinion to herself for most of the discussion, feeling that she didn't really know the people or the situation well enough to make an informed decision. That was until she realised that her Nan was being unrealistic and that Bear pointed out the reality that the McMann's weren't the same people her Nan remembered before the end of everything. And that she still thought of them as the same hard but reasonable family always they had been.

Emily believed they had been crippled already with five of their number killed within a week or so, and it would be a risk to go over on the offensive and that maybe it would be better just to let them die off on their own rather than force the issue and put themselves at risk.
However, Bear gently pointed out that the McMann's were always aggressors and they wouldn't go down quietly without a fight or an attempt at revenge. They held grudges and a feud was unavoidable now. If they did nothing there would be another attack and that put their own lives at risk. A surprise attack on the McMann's farm was the safer option.
Emily was convinced and the vote went three for and one against. Emily's Nan had told them she wasn't happy about it but agreed to help however she could. And the preparations began in earnest.

<><><>

Emily, after a brief confirmation, went back to Neil and squatted down beside him on the grass under the tree, machete still in hand and still wary of the small, malnourished, chained up man.

"We're gonna let you go. But only after we've dealt with the McMann's. Until then you'll have to stay here and be quiet. Afterwards we'll unlock you and you can take a boat back to the mainland. Make a new life for yourself." Emily said.
"I understand. That seems fair enough. I know trust is hard to come by these days. I trusted Claire and Ewan and look what happened to me."

She nodded, looking him in the eye and seeing only honesty.

"You said something about a hidden key to the house?"
"There's a few garden gnomes around a rockery in the front garden, there's a key under a flat rock under the gnome with the fishing rod. I think it has a green hat on. And for later, the key to my pad lock is in the key box on the wall over there beside the front door."

He pointed to a small cream coloured metal box, Emily could just about see it in the dark, at about head height, screwed into the bricks to the left of the front door.

"My chain isn't long enough for me to reach it for myself."
"I'll remember it." She replied and then got up and rendezvoused with Bear and Sally.

Sally and Emily waited at the front door, their backs to the bricks flanking the UPVC entrance. Neil had been correct about the spare key under the gnome. They waited while Bear reconnoitred the windows one by one, moving around the rectangular exterior of the house anti-clockwise. He reported back in a couple of minutes.

"There seems to be one undead locked in each room. They're using them like guard dogs, like they were out here. Though I can't get my head around how they can make that work."
"So, what, we just clear the place room by room until we come across Claire and Ewan?" Sally said with a shrug.
"Suppose so." Bear replied, then turned the key in the front door's substantial lock. "Ready?"

Bear threw open the front door and slid quickly back out of the way, allowing Emily and Sally to dart inside first and then he followed them in and closed the door behind them. They stopped in the hall listening, there were the low wall-suppressed moans of zombies in the other rooms and the ticking of a pendulum clock somewhere to their right but nothing else. There were dull near silhouettes of coats hung up to their right on a rack attached to the wall, Wellington boots and heavy duty walking boots beneath. Old wallpaper, textured with what looked like vines and flowers in the darkness, covered the walls and the ceilings were all smooth plaster probably painted in magnolia or some other, dreary neutral colour. The flowery carpet was threadbare and matted with what Emily hoped was walked in mud, as were the couple of rugs that lay atop it. There were a number of framed pictures on the walls. A few were framed black and white photographs, the monochrome allowing them to stand out more in the gloom, that were easily recognisable, including Edinburgh Castle, a couple of generic Highlands landscapes, Urquhart Castle and Glasgow Cathedral. Above the door there was a faded gilt-framed Saltire.
There was one door to their right beyond the coats, the hallway seemed to stretch out a few feet and then turn abruptly left. At the end of the hall where it turned, another door faced them. It was also shut.
There were quite a lot of flies buzzing around the hall, accompanying a heavy, cloying, sickly aroma that smelled like a mixture of rank organic rot, disinfectant and air freshener.

Sally took the right-hand door while Emily advanced to the right-angled bend in the hallway. After checking that the rest of the corridor was clear of people, living or dead, Emily prepared herself to open the door ahead of her but Bear put a hand on her upper arm.

"I'll take this room kiddo, you check the next left." He whispered to her.

Emily nodded and took two steps down the hall to give him room. She wasn't sure if she was happy to be let off clearing the room, she had been building herself up, readying herself to do it. She certainly didn't enjoy the prospect of being alone, facing a corridor which she now saw sported four doors along it, two on either side of the hallway.
She reassured herself that Bear was right in the next room and Sally was only a few feet behind her too.
Coming to the first door to her left, she considered the likelihood that there would be a zombie waiting for her within, or Claire or Ewan, or both, or all three. They couldn't keep the undead in the house all the time, she decided. It would be impossible with the flies and the stink they brought with them. Besides, hygiene would be a nightmare. They would be openly inviting diseases of all kinds. They had to have some kind of holding pen or building they kept them in and brought a few into the bungalow at nightfall as their odd security measure. She couldn't fathom how no accident's had happened.

And then theoretical assessments were put out of her head as she focussed on the task in hand. Hooking the back of the machete blade ready on her right shoulder and gripping the cylindrical door handle in her left fist, she turned it and pushed the door inward. The room was almost pitch black inside, there was a faint blueness from the moonlight seeping in around the edges of a curtain somewhere opposite the door. The opening of the door brought a fresh assault of flies and stench and Emily ducked her head back and stifled a grunt of disgust. She inched forward into the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She could see the human shape moving, smell it, hear its suddenly elevated undead groans. The McMann's seemed to be relying on surprise, for someone to go into the room unawares and walk straight into the monster's grasp. The length of the rope was their own safety net. It stopped the monster short a couple of feet from the door, keeping it at arm's length from those aware of it and careful enough.
Emily used it to her advantage, stepping into the doorway quietly as the zombie reached for her, already at the end of its rope, reaching and struggling and moaning its undead frustration at being just out of reach of a tasty morsel.

The tiny bit of moonlight creeping in around the edges of the curtain allowed Emily to see the room better now. A chest of drawers were to her immediate left, behind the door and next to a small single bed. On the far side was a bedside table with a number of half burned down unlit candles, a picture in a frame, a steak knife and what looked like a box of condoms. There was a book shelf under the window and an old chest, probably for bed linen beside it. And then she spotted the rifle. It was the one Lara had been holding when she'd stood there in front of Nan's farm with the rest of her family.
Emily wanted to slip past the guard for the rifle but its reaching arms were making it difficult, so she lifted the machete, waited for the right opportunity and then hacked off one arm and then the other, with big heavy downward swings, like she was using a big, two handed axe to chop wood. The zombie's arms came off neatly with a one-two thump onto the carpet and brought increased groaning from the monster. Then to finish the thing off, she shoved it hard so that it stumbled back against the right side wall, to give her room. And then, while it was reeling, quickly drove the point of the machete into its throat, and then started repeatedly stabbing and chopping at the neck, until its spine was shattered and the head was only connected to the neck by a few strips of rotten flesh and a few tendons and strands of muscle. The source of its reanimation extinguished, it slumped like a puppet with cut strings and tumbled in a heap on the floor.
Emily darted to the corner and grabbed the rifle, working the bolt to expose the breech, which was empty, and reveal an empty magazine as well. Disappointed, she tossed the empty gun over onto the bed and went back out into the hall.

At the end of the hallway under a small window was a little table with a potted plant on it. The décor of the walls, floor and ceiling were all a continuation of the other half of the hallway and between each door was a framed picture and a couple of display plates. One of the pictures caught Emily's eye and it took her a moment to work out why.
Then she realised the picture was familiar to her. Dean had had one just like it on the wall of his bedroom in his little terraced house back before the world had ended. That famous and, to Emily, silly and old-fashioned candid photo of the blonde tennis player flashing her bare arse. It took Emily back to those early days with Dean in his room, though the first memory that blossomed from long buried memories was of her being talked into pressing her face in deep between the prone, firm buttocks of a tennis and gym toned older woman, of bristling internally at the unfairness of what she was doing while at the same time biting down her frustration and drunkenly reminding herself why she was doing it. To keep hold of Ben. To make him happy. To make him love her again. She had hated that moment. She had hated that night but that moment when she had parted the other woman's lean gym toned buttocks and lathed her tongue, as instructed by Ben, who had been busy fucking Emily's soaked pussy doggie style, up and down the whole crevice from salty anal mouth to shaved and swollen pussy and back again. Ben had snapped an order to penetrate the woman's anus with her tongue to lube her up for his dick. However, Emily found that she hadn't been able to, had chickened out and had instead used only the flat of her tongue and against the spicy, puckered and sweaty little opening. Of course, the other woman had immediately complained to Ben who had summarily threatened to make Emily take an ass-to-mouth unless she did it properly.

"...You'll be coughing up her shit after I've made you suck it off my dick!" He had threatened.

She remembered that warning with painful clarity. And she had done as he had demanded. And all the while her mind had been screaming at her that he couldn't love her after all, if he was willing to make her degrade herself like that. But she had ignored that voice and instead had listened to her heart. Her desire allowed her. The need to have Ben continue to be her boyfriend convinced her to ignore her common sense and instead accede to his every desire.
She had probed the other woman's anus liberally, even bringing her off with her tongue and fingers. And yes, she had eventually taken the ass-to-mouth as well. Disgusted with herself and reeling with nausea, but simultaneously convinced that, if she did everything he wanted, it would doubtless be enough to convince him to stay with her. That he would have no reason than to leave her.
Of course, he had taken advantage of it for as long as she had been able to stand to go along with his ever more sadistic perversions, even allowing herself to be fucked by a friend of his simply to pay off a debt before she had finally accepted the truth and had refused his next demand. He had dumped her on the spot.

Emily felt a momentary heart ache, a residual shame and self-loathing, a tightening of her chest and an accelerating of her pulse. Her breath shortened and she found herself weak and shivery. She leaned against the wall to her right, her hand clammy on the shaped wooden grip of the machete. She gritted her teeth, forced down the pain and darkness that threatened to consume her. She tried to think of Dean, of happier times that followed. At first her mind strayed to his death but she forced that away and clung to something altogether more pleasant, something that the picture on the wall led her to.

She and Dean had been part way through a leisurely four hour sex session in his bedroom and she had been riding him for once, Emily doing all with work while he lay back half propped on pillows, hands up and reaching to play with her breasts, cupping, pinching her stiff excited nipples, while she slowly worked and gyrated her hips, lounging on his pulsing erection, the thin film of sweat between them allowing a smooth, slippery motion where their bodies pressed together.
While they slow fucked, Emily had been describing a sensual fantasy of hers, a vision of the future. She had known it hadn't been the sort of 'sensual' Dean had meant but the imagery made her heart swoon, made the fucking feel more like making love. She described their life together, owning and running her Grandmother's farm, having the island to themselves. Alone with their love, self-sufficient, a safe and lovely place to bring up their children. She'd described them in detail, a boy and a girl, gave them names, home schooled them until they were ready to go over to the main land to university. Got married and then brought their other halves and their children back to the idyllic life of the farm.
It had been a heavenly fantasy she had lovingly shared with Dean. She started to remember Dean had, as usual in his practical way, started to poke holes in the idea. And then in her definition of sensual, had teased her until she got annoyed and then somehow diverted that passion to get her to fuck him they way he wanted her to fuck him.
Of course, it had been before the world had ended and the idyllic fantasy had turned into their singular plan for survival. For safety. For a life.

Movement. A deepening of nondescript shadow at the end of the hall, along with the tell-tale creak of lubricated hinges, brought Emily out of her reverie. Then a deafening, earth shaking boom was suddenly pummelling her senses. She felt and then heard a heavy, wet slap against the upper part of her left arm and momentarily filling the void to her left as the hall filled with acrid smoke. Then a dull, powerful throbbing slowly inserted itself over the other sensations and she realised that she had been shot.
She staggered, leaning heavily to the right as the throbbing developed into pain and shock started to dig itself into her body and mind. Part of her mind remained active enough to see the pock marks and torn gashes, like fingernails in the wall paper opposite her in the left side of the wall. It must have been a shotgun shell fired blindly from the half open door she had caught sight of in the gloom.

Emily didn't even have time to realise her good fortune to be alive and that her wound was little more than a scratch as the furthest door on the left, the one she believed the shotgun blast had originated from, swung wide open and a figure emerged. It was apparently female by the form inside the blurry, gloomy image of clothing and long wavy brown hair. Emily registered the femininity of the attacker in the glimpse she had of t-shirt and jogging pants, the clothing revealed the unencumbered bounce of braless breasts under the cotton of the old t-shirt.
Emily saw the flash of the big knife in the darkness, a blade edge highlight illuminated by the moon through the window at the end of the hall. Reacting to the knife flashing toward her, she stumbled backwards, sliding down against the wall and twisting, her legs buckling.

The woman's shrieking, a freakish banshee-racket of desperate screams and curses, cut through Emily's stunned stupor and gave her enough of a split second to save her life. Her left arm, dulled by the insistent throbbing barely reacted, but her right arm came up to ward off the attack and with it came the vice-gripped machete which struck almost accidentally, swinging up and forward in an incidental underarm swing. The back of the wide, heavy blade caught the woman, it had to be Claire McMann, hard under the chin, probably not cutting her but certain jarring her and possibly cracking her jawbone.

Her eyes went wide in shock, fear and pain and Emily leapt to the advantage and this time she kept her head and her grip on her weapon, getting her footing as she drew back the blade and swung again hard and fast, yanking backward with it the moment she saw the blood spray and hacking down again at once, not really aiming but focussing on Claire's upper torso, face, skull, shoulders and chest, anywhere the blade would strike. Claire was off balance and screaming still, the noise deafening Emily even as the building rage and tamped down fear finally unleashed itself in a wide eyed, teeth gritted moment of harsh, brutal, almost maniacal violence.
Claire fell back against the wall, sliding down, turning her face away as she cowered back, screaming from Emily's assault with the hacking, chopping machete. Emily, snarling, teeth bared like a wolf intensified her attack adrenaline giving her strength and energy to come down hard again and again with the two-foot blade, giving no respite, ignoring the screams and pleas, the splattering blood and gored flesh, the savaged, shredded clothing and increasingly visible damage through the rents in the fabric.

"Ahhhhhh! Murdering cunt! You're killing meeee!"

Claire was shrieking, the extreme pain evident in her high-pitched abandonment.

"Call your-fucking-self that!" Emily countered. "You started this!"

She narrowed her eyes against the splattering arterial sprays and spitting vitriol along with her saliva, continuing to chop at her with her words as much as her machete.
The woman fell onto her side, covering her head and face with his hands but it just gave Emily new targets to chop into and she slashed at her ribs, hacked at her side, gutted her, until loops of pinkish entrails spooled out through the slices in her clothing and flesh. Eventually, Claire's protective arms fell limp and she slumped, prone and still on the blood sodden carpet.
Breathing heavily, her body shaking uncontrollably, Emily coldly rolled the woman onto her front, lifted her hair out of the way and, pulling on the last vestiges of her energy, hacked at her exposed neck until her head came free and rolled onto its side.

<><><>

The ending occurred without Emily's input. She hadn't registered the noisy commotion behind her but she was able to piece together what had gone on from what she could see at the front door. Ewan must have climbed out of the bedroom window and tried to sneak up on Emily, Sally and Bear from behind through the front door. Sally must have seen him from the living room window or maybe heard him unlocking the front door from outside and had thrown the living room door open and emptied the pistol at him. She seemed to have missed him in her hurried trigger-jerking, bullet holes marked the inside of the door and the wall to the left of the entrance.
Ewan must have smiled at Sally's misfortune and levelled the remaining barrel of his shotgun on her, standing there in the doorway of his living room. However, Bear had emerged from the kitchen door at the apex of the 'L' shaped hallway and diverted his attention in the nick of time.

Emily wondered for a second if he had spared a glance in her direction, if he had witnessed her unashamed massacre of the woman he had once loved, but he had never said a word about it, or showed any kind of reaction or coldness toward Emily following that night.
Bear had blasted Ewan with his own shotgun at a range of about ten or twelve feet. Bear had aimed low, bracing the side-by-side barrels at the crook of his left elbow and Ewan hadn't stood a chance.
Still, he hadn't died instantly and Sally had vented her fear of almost being killed by him by chopping his head off with her Kukri knife.
And that had been the end of the McMann family.

<><><>

They had gone through the other rooms killing any guard zombies they came across, there was practically one in every room chained to a wall by an industrial bolt driven through the brick walls. However, by the time the last body had been dragged outside and decapitated, the shakes had overtaken Emily. Shock and exhaustion taking their toll, and Bear had taken her back to their boat and headed home. They left Sally with the McMann's remaining boat and an unchained Neil Heston to make a list of any and all usable supplies, food stuffs, livestock, equipment, clothing and weapons that over the coming days and weeks they would ship back to their own farm.

Bear took Emily home to his cottage at the farm. They stripped off their gore-soaked clothes and burned them in his fire, got changed and washed each other and then stopped in to see Bea and inform her that they were safe and it was over. And then Bear took Emily to bed. Emily was exhausted and Bear pulled her into his arms and held her until they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

[Nickamano]

Epilogue

Emily dug. Her back ached and her arms felt like jelly. But she dug.

Bear had helped her with the body, saving the head which had already been picked at by scavengers, and then hooking a rope around its headless torso before - the two of them laughing over the impromptu tug-of-war against the suction on the boggy ground - they managed to pull it free and dump it onto the back of a little handcart Bear had fashioned.
Emily had picked out a place at the edge of the woods just off the path where she had noticed a big roughly rounded rock with one flat-ish surface, like a stone fingertip jutting forth out of the grass. And she realised it would serve well as an over-size head stone.
There were some scraps of white exterior gloss paint in one of the sheds and she painted on the epitaph in her best hand writing. It felt strange to be writing after so long, she was out of practice and uncertain, but it came back to her quickly enough.

"For Dean and Jay. The latter lies here, at peace. Friends. Lovers. Saviours of Emily Jane O'Brian. RIP both."

Bear had offered to help her with the digging but it felt wrong to Emily, she felt like she should do it herself. Besides, it wasn't as if she was digging a six foot deep rectangle and fashioning a big oak coffin to drop into it. It was a shallow grave and Jay's body was just wrapped up in an old blanket. However, he stood with her when the digging was done and Jay was respectfully buried. He held her tightly, with his good arm across her shoulders.

She didn't cry for either of them as, alone, she filled the hole that Jay rested in. She didn't actually remember the last time she had cried. Maybe when Dean had died? She didn't even feel the loss as deeply as she felt she should have. She felt sad of course, thinking about them and the years they had shared together, for Dean especially, before the end of the world and after. But it almost felt more like the loss of distant relatives than it did the death of her fiancé and her... boyfriend? She supposed... She still felt unable to put a name to whatever had been between Jay and herself.

The presence of Bear comforted her, warmed her and took the edge of whatever grief she did feel for the losses of Dean and Jay.
As much as anything, she felt guilty, not only of having survived and found her safe new paradise, and her family. But also, that she realised she was thinking more and more positively about Jay than she was about Dean. She had been with Dean for years, had been engaged to him. And she had only known Jay for a few short years and had only been his lover for a few days - and that had been coerced if she was honest... Or harsh, maybe. At least, it had been a reluctant arrangement.
And yet, her thoughts for Jay remained warm and positive and revealed a fondness for the memory of him that she had neither recognised or expressed when he had been alive. Meanwhile her memories of Dean had started to sour. Her full-to-bursting love for him and trust in him dissipating, memories of their time together revealing a selfishness and manipulation that she had never seen at the time. Especially when it came to the sex. All that cock sucking, swallowing his spunk whenever he demanded and he had almost never returned the favour. All the anal that, looking back, he had obviously manipulated her into giving him with all that crap about not wanting to risk pregnancy and how dangerous it would be in this post end-of-everything world.
Then again, had that been such a crime? Everyone manipulates everyone else to get things their own way, she had been guilty of it at times too. Could she be so disgruntled by being manipulated by a man she had loved to distraction?
It didn't matter; it was all the past. They were both dead. At peace. Jay had seen to Dean's peace and she had seen to Jay's herself. And now she had her family with her and she had Bear. She was his now, as much as he was hers. She belonged again. And yet, seeing Jay as one of those things and the reality that, since his death, she had, more often than not, only ever been able to conjure memories of Dean in his last few agony-ridden seconds of life...

The pain of that memory, of those last months of her life with Dean, gripped her like a vice, crushed her, made her heart ache, made the anxiety bite, made her weak and shaky. She needed to be free of it. She needed... Something.
And then she realised. She needed to feel good, to feel happy. To feel desired and warm and safe and wanted. The thoughts pulled her in one direction. She wanted closeness and companionship, needed to feel a tight embrace, the warmth of another living human. She realised that physical pleasure, sex, with Bear, was the very thing, the ideal thing to mask the heartache and the guilt and the sadness that Jay and Dean represented. His body against hers, his cock driving into her, heating her, making her cum, washing away the emotional pain that was threatening to overwhelm her.

She ran to him, standing there at the edge of the woods, fifty yards away waiting for her. A respectable distance. But she didn't want his respect, she wanted his dick. She wanted him inside her. She needed fucking. Needed it.

There was a fallen log just off the path at the edge of the woods that she wordlessly pulled him over to and they both straddled its smooth surface, the bark stripped off by rubbing and chewing of some of the animals. Emily drew herself close to Bear who read her well enough to have the good sense to say nothing and let her lead him. She slid her already spread legs beneath his so their bodies were close together and pulled him closer still for a heady kiss. She went in with her tongue, desperate in her horniness and he followed suit, realising her desire, the strength of it, the need behind it.
His arms came around her as their kisses grew increasingly passionate, frantic and powerful. He slid his good hand into her hair and pulled her harder onto his mouth, her tongue shoving in deep before he could access hers. His left forearm stroked her thigh and hip, wishing he had the hand still, to fondle her sweet bottom.
Her hand matched his, sliding into his hair to pulling him harder still against her, to increase the suction of her mouth on his, while her other hand slid around his muscular waist. She ignored the constant throb of the buckshot wound. Her upper arm had been cleaned and bandaged and would heal perfectly well, her Nan had assured her but its throbbing was incessant.
Bear took the opportunity to release her head and slid his hand down her body. Panting with pounding lust, he took hold of and squeezed her arse firmly, enjoying the response of the soft flesh and taut muscle beneath. Then he slid back up to cup a breast, squeezing the young orb. He tweaked a lust hardened nipple that was poking excitedly through her bra, before he went back and slid his powerful hand between her arse cheeks, squeezing firmly, rubbing at the enticing heat in the crevice beneath her jeans. Emily braced her thighs and lifted herself up while she carried on kissing him, harder, deeper, his tight supporting grip on her arse and her hungry gyrating hips drawing her up onto his already tented lap.

Their kiss broke for the first time and, both of letting out panting groans of mutual desire, he shoved his face into the soft twin orbs of her t-shirt covered breasts. Emily let him nuzzle her for a couple of seconds before dragging his face back up to hers again.
Their kiss resumed as his hand worked hungrily at her buttocks, kneading, caressing, pushing his questing fingers into the crevice. She lifted her arms up above her head and, blindly registering her movement, he grabbed the hem of her top and peeled it up over her body, their wanton lips pulling apart for the passage of the cotton garment. Emily tossed it to the ground without concern. Her bra followed an instant later and then she arched her back so he could feast on her naked breasts properly.
He sucked one nipple and then the other, his single hand simultaneously mauling the unsucked orb while she moaned and panted and ran her hands through his hair.
While he sucked her tits, Emily loosened the fastening of her jeans but they soon found they had to get off the fallen log to get her naked.

"Strip, Bear. Hurry!" She panted as she yanked off her jeans, boots and underwear.

Bear remained silent, only giving out a lustful panting as he eyed his young lover's sweet, sexy body but he followed her lead without hesitation. He tore at his own clothing, inwardly cursing his missing hand for a second time.
Naked, Emily went over to help him but soon became distracted as his fully fledged erection came out into the open as he kicked off boots and yanked-down trousers. They came together again like sex starved teens.
She mindless pushed him up against their log and squatted down in front of him.

"Em, you don't need to..." He started to say.

She silenced him with a light slap to the upper thigh. Then she pressed her lips against the pulsing crown of his hard thick cock and slid her mouth down its length, pinching the root between finger and thumb to hold his shaft steady while she palmed his heavy scrotum with her other hand.

As her lips travelled down the length of his hot dense shaft, her tongue swishing back and forth along its underside, Emily moaned deep in her throat, revelling in the musky taste, the thickness filling her mouth and stretching her jaw, the weight of it pressing down on her labouring tongue. She felt Bear's hand grasp onto the top of her head, his fingers pressing into her skull, closing on a handful of her short brown hair but she was way ahead of him. The searing hot crown, foreskin already retracted by the suctioning tightness of her mouth, shoved at her uvula and Emily mentally defeated her gag reflex and pushed on, pressing the cock head past the entrance with a wet pop that she felt in her mouth but heard in her imagination.
She pushed on, feeling the shaft sliding further down her throat, her oesophagus forcing the shaft to bend slightly as it bulged her neck. Finally feeling the tickle of pubic hair, she inhaled the fresh saltiness of his sweat and forced her face forward that last inch, until her lips met hard muscle and her nose was flattened by his abdominals. Bear groaned a diaphragm-deep, visceral, almost animal noise that she could swear she felt in her throat, vibrating beneath the fast pleasure-pulse in his solid cock shaft.
She held it there down her throat, bathing in its hardness and drowning it in her own wet heat and vice tightness, enjoying the weak-kneed quaking that struck Bear. He tightened his grip of her scalp and his panting moans of intense pleasure thundered. Then she went for broke, drawing back suddenly, sucking hard while gulping on the dick as it slid backward out of her throat, assaulting the spongy tumescence with her flicking tongue and hot saliva, sucking hard with her locked tight lips, teasing the needle-eye of his shaft with the tip of her tongue and then plunging it all the way in again.

She built up a rhythm, fucking her own throat with his hardness, paying close attention to the pulses and little muscular jolts within the tasty flesh baton, reading his orgasmic climb with her mouth, like sensory Braille. Inwardly giggling with pride, she marvelled that she brought him to the edge within a minute or so and slowed it right down, sucking the tip gently while she kneaded his balls, between palm and fingers, working him with little circular caresses, manually and orally.
Then she pulled away, stood up and all but threw herself face down over the fallen trunk. She felt the heat of Bear behind her at once, his hand on her buttocks, his thumb sliding up and down her pouting and swollen labia. She could read him well enough to know she had taken him too far to think of anything now but penetration. She had no doubt, once his first climax was spurted over or inside her, he would not hesitate to repay the favour and suck her pussy to climax two or three times over. But now the only thing on his mind would be getting his cock back into her body. So she reached back blindly and caught hold of his drool anointed erection. It had never felt as hard or hot as it did right then in her slick grip.

Emily considered going for anal, residual guilt still weighed on her and the pleasure-pain of a hard uncontrolled sodomy had become a kind of salve to her, a small pain to mask the deeper psychological anguish. Punishment. She went as far as silent coaxing, grasping his hard cock and aiming the throbbing meat, pushing the big hot crown against her anus. But she paused, half teasing herself, half entertaining second thoughts.
Punishment? She needn't guilt now, they were at peace. She was with the man she was meant to be with, enjoying him. Did she need to be punished? Was it even guilt she was feeling? She slid the shaft down quickly, splaying her hot damp pussy lips and then pushing the cock head inward a millimetre and then left the rest to Bear.
She released his big weighty shaft and grabbed the trunk she was lay across as he immediately thrust home, all the way into her hot, pulsing, soaked depths, to loud mutual groans from the both of them. Emily wanted to shout out, to declare it had been what she needed but she just wailed out her pleasure, hearing her moans echoing through the trees.
Bear leaned into her, squeezing her arse and gyrated his shaft in her sultry core but Emily needed more and needed it now.

"Fuck me hard, Bear." She moaned, a guttural sound of carnal, animal need.

She felt him shudder and his cock tightened in her pussy and she half expected to feel his hot spunk jetting into her then and there, but he maintained control, drew back until his hot-coal crown was snuggling between her labia and then drove in hard and started to pile-drive her buttocks for all he was worth.
They both groaned and panted, Emily humping back onto him hard, forcing him as deep as possible, matching his frantic pace, their stereo cacophony unrestrained by embarrassment or morality. And soon Emily was shrieking the woods down as an explosive orgasm overwhelmed her, a tree split asunder by lightning. And the orgasm crested like rolling thunder and peaked again seconds later, each climax developing into another, coastal waves crashing. And through it all Bear's big, hard shaft was hammering into her, hard and fast and deep.
Even in his own exquisite pleasure, he consciously focussed on steadying his rhythm to maintain the pace and the pressure to build on each of her obvious, noisy climaxes, getting her to cum again and again and again.
The pleasure was exquisite and Emily lay there, bent over the tree, receiving her pounding and she bathed in the joy of it, the glorious, mind-numbing, pain-banishing joy of it.

If Bear had asked her for anal at that moment she would have agreed wholeheartedly, but because she wanted to make him happy, not for the reasons of self-punishment that had previously motivated her.
She even entertained the prospect herself for a moment or two, feeling the urge to cry it out at him back over her shoulder.

"Fuck my arse, Bear!"

But she held her tongue and moments later Bear was groaning and quivering, his thrusts loosing control, growing erratic and unconstrained. He clawed at her naked buttocks and then suddenly yanked his erection out of her and with a great gutsy bellow, he exploded all over her back and arse. She felt the thick, long streamers of his seed splattering down into her writhing flesh. She felt it strike the back of her head, onto her hair, splash all over her shoulder blades, gush across her waist, and then a half dozen more laid forth, like whiplashes, up and down her quivering buttocks, her pulsing pussy lips, the backs of her thighs and everywhere in between.
She panted and groaned at the feeling of him climaxing all over her body, enjoying the sexual effect she had on Bear, how compatible they were together, both sexually and beyond, how warm and protective he was with her. How he treated her. How he didn't manipulate her. How he loved her.

No, Jay and Dean were gone. At rest. Part of her past. Her present and future were Bear and the farm and her family. It was just going to take time. To heal. To move on. But that was okay, Emily had the rest of her life ahead of her.

The End.