An inconvenient apocalypse

The blood splashed all over the side of my face, ran down my neck and dripped onto my shoulder. I was nearly sick then and there, but I had to get moving. I didn't have any clothes on, you see, and I had to find something quickly so that I could get out of here pronto. All around me was chaos and screaming, but I had no time to get scared. I needed clothing fast, and a weapon; whatever I could get my hands on quickest.

I stepped into the next room, hearing growls and wet splashes as I did so. The strobe lighting confused me immediately, as I couldn’t tell who was alive and who was infected. I found the main light and switched it on, hating that I had to make myself more visible, but also needing to see where danger lay.

A man (or woman?) in a full gimp suit came racing past me, pursued by a slathering zombie. I noted with interest that when the zombie was upon them, looking for flesh to bite, it couldn't find any, beneath the full coverage of the latex suit. The zombie eventually moved off, and the person stayed down, no doubt in terrified and confused shock. I wondered if that was the first time that someone's life had been saved during an apocalypse, because of their unusual hobby. I also wondered if the lucky escapee had soiled themselves during the attack; you would NOT want to shit yourself wearing a gimp suit!

I noticed, in the far corner, that another undead creature was secured to a radiator using handcuffs. As it writhed and snarled, I couldn't help thinking that it somehow managed to look a little humiliated - maybe the fact that the handcuffs were pink and furry made its capture all the more undignified.

How did it all begin, and when exactly? It's impossible to think about these things until after the catastrophic events have taken place, of course. When you're in the midst of a steamy orgy at a sex club, you tend not to worry about such things as the end of the world. It's typical really; me and Greg had really started to get our mojo back, put the spark back into our marriage, the icing back on the cake, well... you get the picture. We had been full 'swing' when the outbreak hit outside the club and found its way in, via one infected person who rushed in and started biting people. Of course, with all the close proximity of people in the club, the dim lighting, and the amount of naked flesh on display, it wasn't immediately obvious that something was very wrong.

I guess if the original infected person had been contained in the dungeon quickly and secured with the various straps and chains, we may all have stood a chance. As it was, many were already dead, and it was pandemonium among this plethora of sexually carefree carousers.

"Dildo to the head! Dildo to the head!" A naked man wearing a tutu and a matching strap-on, raced past me, clutching a jelly double-ender in both hands, using it to garrote various zombies whilst screaming violently. He was strong, and took down a few on his way into the dungeon, probably hoping to secure himself safely inside. I thanked him for his battle advice by saluting, swiftly reaching to grab a Black Mamba (the new, foot-long design) from the toy cabinet beside me, swinging it hard at the side of the head of the vicious looking nude zombie racing at me. It fell hard; this new model of dildo must be pretty darn sturdy, I thought to myself.

The zombie stayed down for now. My eyes darted frantically about, and my breathing came harshly as I braced the Mamba for another swipe, edging across the littered bodies on the plush carpet. I stepped carefully but as quickly as I dared, between various limbs and spaces where limbs should have been. I winced as my feet sunk into squelchy wet carpet, soaked through with blood and goodness knows what else...

More carnage as I stepped ever closer towards the clothing and toy room, where I was hoping to find clothing and weapons... I watched a couple tag-team a zombie: she, with a frankly impressive double butt-plug attack to the eye sockets, and he, with a 'dark destroyer' (extra-large model with glittery detail) to the rear. Literally to the rear. Its mouth seemed to form an 'O' of surprise at the combination assault.

I heard a woman screaming from the dressing-up room, and rushed to help, my heart hammering. She was dressed impeccably in a nurse's uniform, desperately trying to keep a slathering zombie (also in the same uniform, interestingly) from getting at her. I swung the Black Mamba as hard as I could at the head, knocking the creature off her and breaking its neck with a sharp crack. She looked stunned at my sudden entrance, then at my nudity, before taking my helping hand and thanking me profusely as she dusted herself down. "Jesus, I was eating her out a few minutes ago... didn't expect she'd be the one trying to eat me for real!"

"Were you bitten?" I asked, keeping an eye on the open door. She shook her head; she was petite with a head of orange curls, thick make-up, and an attitude. "You look good in the outfit, anyhow!" I exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood, which couldn't have been much blacker really.

She curtsied. "Thank you! Fancy wearing one yourself? You could do with, er... covering up, I guess." I remembered my nakedness, and nodded. Bit embarrassing, but then again, twenty minutes ago I had been giving oral sex to a stranger whilst my partner (ex-partner? Deceased?) fucked me from behind, plus I had just saved this woman's life, so this was no time to suddenly be coy.

We checked all hidden areas and corners, and the woman - Sheree, her name was - guarded the doorway. She'd retrieved the stainless-steel baton she had been using as a weapon; it had been knocked from her hand in the struggle. Going through the clothing rail, I found the nurses uniform and quickly began to pull it on. Then I saw something better, gasped in triumph, and started to dress...

A few minutes later, I was kitted out in a policewoman's uniform, and was brandishing a baton, with several spares in the small rucksack on my back, along with handcuffs, and masking tape (plus a few stainless-steel dildos for good measure). I'd found some sturdy boots (you can't tackle zombies in heels) and a leather jacket and gloves, to provide coverage and reduce the risk of bites.

There was still no sign of Greg: maybe he had managed to escape? We had got separated in the initial chaos and confusion. Maybe we could find each other once again. Give our renewed relationship another go, in spite of a sudden zombie invasion.

We both wielded our weapons: myself – PC Pain, plus Nurse Sheree - adrenaline pumping, as we moved to the front doors, and looked at each other. "Time to bring some law and disorder, and a bit of TLC (Tender Loving Carnage) to the streets," I declared. She grinned, and we opened the door into a very different world.