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Fever 01

By: Kimtacular



Three weeks ago, the first case for Colis-Hersch Fever was reported. A week ago, the entire eastern coast was in a state of panic and disarray. Two days ago, the world had ended.

Hannah laughed out loud when she thought about it. When she pictured a zombie apocalypse, she saw a metropolis overrun with animated corpses, stumbling and groaning for human flesh. Not in Canada. In Canada, the zombies froze to death before they even took their first bite. In small town Barrhead, there were a total of four-thousand corpses and about a dozen zombies.

So the End of Days was not as blood-drenched, gut spilling, bullet-popping as she thought it'd be. In fact, she didn't even have a gun. All she had was the steel baseball bat that had belonged to her late brother. But she hadn't killed one person with it yet. The Fever and the cold did enough of that on its own.

When her mom got sick, Dad kicked her out. A few days later, her parents were both dead. Her brother had luckily died years before this had all happened. But for some reason, Hannah missed him the most, especially after her father succumbed to the Fever. Vince used to laugh at death all the time, then come up with all the answers on how to feel better.

Communication was cut off a bit over twenty-four hours ago, along with power, people, and goods. No gas, no supplies. No meals.

"Better time to learn to hunt than ever," she muttered to herself. All the stores had their doors wide open, signs saying to take what you need and leave the rest, but to think there'd be a scrap of food left would be to think miracles grew on trees. Any food to be found would have to be out in the bush.

The people who were still alive were shacked up all over the town, but to pinpoint them was impossible. Small as Barrhead was, four-thousand was a lot of people, and called for a lot of dwellings. All the people Hannah knew were dead, and she was apprehensive about meeting new friends and neighbours, especially now. Zombies she could find morbidly funny. Hungry strangers... she didn't know what to expect.

So out she went. So far, grief hadn't struck. It was easy to keep it tucked on the back shelf of her mind as she started to brainstorm just how to find wildlife and then how to kill it.

Shit. How'm I gonna cook it?

She added learning to make fire to her to do list.

When Dad kicked her out, she stayed at a hotel until she found a more permanent place to lodge. She walked across the parking lot—had only one corpse in it, post Fever. Past that was the Tire Warehouse, Bulk Barn, and A&W. Eighteen corpses, all previous zombies as well. Hannah was starting to think she wouldn't find a body that wasn't a zombie first. They wore undershirts, underwear, pyjamas, or sometimes nothing at all. One was wearing a pretty flashy winter coat. Hannah brushed the snow off, rolled the body over, and stripped it of its coat. He would have wanted her to have it, anyway.

Highway 18 was just beyond the fast food place. Beyond that was where Barrhead ended and Alberta country began. She would rummage around for a few hours at least, just before sunset, before going back to her room and finding a way to make it warmer. Hopefully she'd have some dinner with her too. She tried not to think about what might happen if she didn't.

She walked right out to the animal crossing sign and started to march through the snowbank. "O—kay, cold, cold." She balanced on one foot to wrench off the other boot and shake the snow out. Walking more carefully, she reached the treeline and shimmied her way into the thicket. 

All her life, bless her small town soul, she never played in the bush. It was like a girl living in New York never going to downtown. But she knew enough kids that did, growing up. Landmarks were set up by said children, and even if you've never seen them, you knew exactly where Tommy Hilkes and Candy Kaminski made out when someone mentioned the Billiards Tree, or where Vanessa Forsyth got chased down by a moose when the Bunker Fort was identified. Hannah wasn't afraid of getting lost in the least. The first landmark she should find was the Stick Teepee. From there she would approach the Crater and then make the hike to the Clearing. Hopefully that would be far enough in that she would find some sort of wildlife.

She blanked all the way through the trees up until she saw a coyote. It froze—she froze—they stared at each other. Oh, shit, a coyote—are those dangerous? she thought. Then it bolted.

"Oh, no, no, no!" She took off after it, tripping and stumbling on roots and branches, cursing to herself frantically the further away it got. If she let it get away, who knew how long it would take for her to find her next meal. Already she knew it wasn't likely she'd catch up to the damn thing and even less likely she'd be able to kill it with a bat. But she had to try; she was too hungry not to.

With some bizarre twist of fate the coyote yelped and jerked to a halt. All her muscles tightened as she pushed and shoved herself through the trees as fast as possible to get to it—Don't let it get away, goddammit, Hannah! 

It was caught in a bear trap. That should have caught her attention and set off all her alarms, but instead she immediately went to calculating just how to kill the animal. Whining and shivering, it was hers for the killing. Put it out of its misery and eat well that night. Well, as well as well could get anymore. But as she gripped and regripped her bat, trying to find the best angle to bludgeon the dog, she found it impossible to even lift the bat above her head. The very idea of hitting the coyote was revolting. Her arms wouldn't comply.

"Come on," she growled. Shifting to the side and stepping away, she tried again. She couldn't get the bat past her shoulder.

A snort drew her attention away from the dog and onto a very, very large animal.

Standing on four legs, the moose had at least a good two feet on her—and that was only at the shoulder. Its antler span was at least as wide as she was tall, and each of its legs was just as thick as she was. It was the biggest fucking moose she knew she'd ever see—if she got the chance to live after this.

"Fuck," she whispered. It was not two meters away from her. The moose snorted again.

Okay, what did she know about moose? Vanessa was chased by one once. She climbed up a tree and hollered for help for a good hour. That was all Hannah knew.

All right... what did she learn in the movies? If it's big, don't move and it can't see you.

She remained frozen to place, stiller than a goddamned statue, and stared. 

The moose took a step forward. The coyote yelped louder than ever. She nearly shit her pants.

Something sliced the air so thin she didn't hear it until it thunked into the skull of the moose. The animal staggered like it was drunk and was just punched in the face. An arrow stuck out from just behind its eye, black shaft and fletchings, so thin she almost missed it. The moose turned blindly. Another arrow plunked right in the middle of its eyes.

The moose made a weird groaning noise, almost sounding like a big metal ship creaking and shifting. It started to teeter towards Hannah and the coyote....

"Shit! Shit!" She tripped over her own feet and threw herself backward—and in just enough time. The moose landed just where her toes had been, effectively crushing the coyote and shaking the ground like an earthquake. Hannah lay in the snow gasping, muttering incoherent blasphemies in between breaths.

"You sick?"

Hannah whipped her head around. She didn't see anybody. Man's voice. "Hello?"

"Said you sick?"

What does that even—oh! "No! No, not sick."

She heard soft footfalls crunching in the snow, approaching from somewhere to the right. She searched and searched, but saw no one. He had to have come from that direction though; that was where the arrows had flown in from. As she craned her neck for a better vantage, she heard a soft click next to her ear. He had circled around and come up from behind. She didn't dare turn to face him.

"Weapons?" he asked.

"Baseball bat."

"Ammo?"

"N... o."

"Food?"

"Food?" she parroted, turning her head. "You got... any...."

The man standing behind her had a crossbow trained to her eye. The arrow point was not three inches from her face.

"Where're yer people?" He spoke like a tradesman.

It took her a few seconds to register that she needed to reply. She gave a slight shake of her head.

"You realize if I catch you lyin', there're dire consequences in it fer ya."

This time she nodded.

He pulled away the crossbow and held out his other hand. It was crusted with dirt. Before she took it, she looked up into his face. He had sounded old—maybe in his fifties or sixties—but the face she saw was about as half as aged. Much more handsome, too; strong brow and jaw, squared chin, watery green eyes she could swim in. He looked at her expectantly. When she grabbed his hand, it tingled hers.

When she was on her feet, the stranger abandoned her and looked to the moose, humming and hawing over its body. Hannah turned her focus from the meat to the man. He was covered in exemplary Canadian hunting clothes: a furry brown ushanka, plaid winter jacket, thick snow pants, and big white rubber boots. His winter gloves were stuffed into the pockets of his coat. He was tall, and even though he was wearing multiple layers, she could tell he was lean from the gaunt look in his face.

The man pulled out a knife from his pants pocket and knelt down between the moose's legs.

"What're you doing?" she blurted. He payed her little attention as he sliced the moose open.

Hannah gagged and turned away. She even resorted to stuffing her fingers in her ears when the sounds of tearing flesh made her belly flip and flop. After a few minutes he said, "Could you lend me a hand here?"

She turned reluctantly, keeping her eyes downcast and her fingers still planted in her ear canals. He pointed. "Get me my bag."

She sought out the sack and brought it to him. It smelled like mouldy basement and looked older than her. She laid by his feet and he immediately dug into it, pulling out a newspaper.

Hannah threw up a little in her mouth as he hauled out a giant piece of moose out from its gut and let it splat on the paper. He did this several times, making her hurl up a bit of stomach acid at one point. "You got somewhere to go back to?" he asked as she spit up the last of her puke.

"Not really."

"I'll let you have some of this meat if you help me haul it back to the land."

It wasn't a hard decision. "Done."

When she turned, he handed her a bloody, rolled up newspaper. She turned right back around and dry heaved.

"Righ'. Well, you carry the bitch, I'll take the steak. C'mere and help me with this moose."

"What?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"We pull this moose off the dog and you carry it home."

Hannah must have grimaced, for the man scoffed, rolled his eyes, and waved her over. "Git over here!"

She complied and approached him, albeit sheepishly. He knelt before the two front legs, and she knelt by the hind. When he grabbed onto the limbs, so did she. "On three," he said.

On cue, they threw their weight into hauling the thing backward. God, but did it weigh a ton! She had never tried to pull something so heavy!

"Are you sure we can move this thing?" she asked once they both stopped tugging.

"Slow n' easy, we can get the job done."

"Okay."

He counted to three again and they heaved. Again. And again. After the sixth try, the moose started to budge. Hannah yelped in surprise and pulled harder.

"Careful," the man wheezed, all but trembling from the exertion. Finally the moose shifted back a good foot; Hannah slipped and landed on her ass, and the stranger pulled himself to his feet using the moose for leverage. The coyote, now squished beyond recognition, was fully exposed. The stranger went to inspect it.

"Norma might be able to fix 'er up," he said, shoving the bloody mess with a toe. He then unclasped the bear trap and pulled the coyote out of it. "'Fraid of gettin' dirty?"

"Er... no."

"Good. 'Cause yer gonna."

He lifted up the coyote, stomped up to Hannah, and deposited the corpse into her arms. She wrinkled her nose and turned her head away, careful not to look at it. It felt unsettling to be carrying something dead and broken in her arms.

The man collected the other meat and shoved it unceremoniously into his pack. Then he stood, making sure he had all his equipment about him, and started off on his way. Hannah scrambled to collect her baseball bat before hurrying after him.

They walked in silence for a good five minutes, the entire time Hannah wondering if he was pissed at her or not. Granted, the world had just ended—everybody had the right to be moody. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something to make him angry. She had always been timid like that, eager to please and desperate to stay in everyone's good graces. He was certainly in hers; he could have just well saved her life.

Oh, that's right! "Um, thank you. You know. For the help."

He grunted, barely looking over his shoulder at her.

Another two minutes passed. "I'm Hannah, by the way."

He looked away into the trees, turning his head as far away as possible from her. "Bill."

She decided not to try and start another conversation for the rest of the walk.

* * *

"The Land" was nearly a day's walk away. Or at least in daylight terms; during the winter the days were short and fleeting; the sun would rise at nine and set at four. So she had a poor idea of what time it was when they came across the acreage, a good twenty or so kilometres from town. They made it in good time, too; any later and they would have been groping through the dark to get home. 

From far down the road, Hannah could see a light guiding them forward. When they got close, she recognized it as a candle in a window.

"Leave your bat at the door," Bill said in a tone that broached no argument. They walked across the gravel driveway and someone opened a curtain to peek out. When they climbed the long porch, two more heads poked out. Hannah grew tense; she leaned the bat up against the garage on the way to the front door, feeling the earlier she ditched it, the better.

Bill opened the door and stepped inside. "It's me," he grumbled, setting down his bag and stepping out of his boots, "with visitor."

"Who's the visitor?" someone asked. A young man, pretending to be harsh and wary, by the sounds of it.

"Stray."

It stung. She must have looked it, too, for Bill glanced at her and ruefully added, "Name of Hannah."

A young man—maybe in his late teens—walked around the corner. He had a double barrel anchored in the crook of his shoulder. "Jesus," Hannah yelped, jumping and nearly dropping the coyote. Bill cursed something dreadful and the boy lowered his aim immediately.

"Idiot—twat—" Bill snatched the shotgun away from the kid and towered over him.

"Sorry, Bill. S'bein' cautious, is all."

"You watched me walk up to the fuckin' house with her," the man said so viciously that the boy cowered.

"William Secord!"

Bill straightened and slowly turned towards the main room, of which Hannah could not see. An older woman had called his name.

"You watch your mouth under this roof, you hear me?"

Bill pulled off his ushanka slowly (revealing a thinning crown of mousy brown hair) and let his backpack fall to the ground with a wet smack. He turned to walk up the set of stairs opposite. A door slammed in his wake. 

Which left Hannah standing in the doorway holding a dead coyote with a person even more a stranger to her than Bill was.

The boy who'd threatened to blow her head to bits now eyed her... remorsefully? Brazenly? She couldn't get a read on what it was he was thinking. His gaze was so direct that she began to feel uncomfortable; she averted her eyes and shrank.

"What are you waiting for, Father Christmas?" the old woman from around the corner barked. "Close the door!"

Hannah grabbed for the door handle and slowly drew it closed. She then stepped out of her own boots (which were not as winter durable as Bill's were) and entered the house.

Candles were alight everywhere; the walls, furniture, and people were bathed in a soft orange glow. And there were a lot of people. More than Hannah had expected, anyway. There were three standing near the couches—a woman, a girl and a boy—and two more couples in the kitchen, one young, the other old. An old woman stood nearest to her, save for the teenage boy—with wispy blonde hair and a very prominent jaw. An apron was tied around her neck; across her hips it read: "Kiss Me and I Kick Your Ass." Immediately Hannah pegged this woman as the Norma that Bill had mentioned briefly.

"I suppose that coyote there is for me."

"Y—eah. Yes." Hannah stepped forward and went to deposit the dog in the woman's arms.

"What, you think I'm taking that bloody mess? Put it in the kitchen."

Hannah slipped past Norma and headed straight for the island counter. "Not on the goddamn granite, in the sink!"

If Hannah felt small around Bill, she felt miniscule in the likes of Norma. She closed her eyes and shuffled over to the sink in between both couples and gently laid the meat inside. Everyone's eyes were on her.

"Good. Well, she who carried it should be served," Norma declared. "If it tickles your fancy you can go take yourself a shower. But be stingy on the hot water, we can only make so much at a time."

Hannah blanched. "You have water?"

"Well, not for long, by the look on your face," Norma said, waving a hand dismissively. "Leave your coat down here and I'll get Ian here to tend to it. There are towels in the linen closet by the bathroom door—last door on the left."

The teenager, Ian, held out his hands expectantly for her coat, which was covered in fur and blood and who knew what else. She shrugged it off her shoulders, bundled it up, and handed it to him, keeping her eyes averted—he had that same look on his face since she walked in the house.

Everyone else was still staring at her like some sort of spectacle. She darted her eyes around and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hannah. Hi."

"I'll acquaint you over dinner, just go wash up for now," Norma ordered.

"'Kay...." Hannah turned on her heel and climbed up the stairs, feeling overly self-conscious about the amount of eyes trained on her back. She nimbly hopped up the stairs and slipped into the washroom, closing the door behind her swiftly.

The tears came easy, for she'd been holding them back since she started her walk with Bill. Two weeks ago she was planning a trip to Hawaii with her girlfriends once the whole Fever scare blew over. Two of them were dead and the other one fled for greener pastures. She was probably dead, too.

Life had knocked her down and was kicking hard. Strange people, strange place—parents dead, hopes and dreams snuffed. So many bodies.

She wanted to go back to the time her dad told her to leave and decide to stay.

To cover up the sound of her tears (and to not appear suspicious) she went to the tub-shower and turned on the water. She then looked for the switch to a fan and turned that on, too. A loud sob escaped her; she hid her face under her shirt, hoping no one had heard her and that no more sobs would come. Wiping away the tears, she took big breaths and tried to calm down. There would be another time.

She peeled off her shirt, jeans, socks and underwear like they were a second layer of skin. God knows she'd been wearing them long enough, they may as well have been. They reeked. She reeked. The shower would do her some immense good.

The bathroom mirror was straight across from her. Even with puffy red eyes, she was pretty. Her eyes were very round and a light blue. When she cried, they became aquamarine. 


Fever 01



She had straight dark hair that framed her face, although after a few days without a shower it stuck to her head like plaster. Her skin was fair and her figure fairer, although she always did think her boobs were a funny shape, and she wasn't fond of the way her bum squared off at the cheeks. She was starting to look peckish, though, and not in a good way. Not that anyone around here would care what she looked like; they all were content just gawking at her like some sort of abysmal freak accident.

It had to be the stench. With that thought, she hopped in the shower.

The water was freezing cold. Jumping from foot to foot and craning away from the stream, she fiddled with the taps. No hot water. Ice cold jets struck down on her skin. When the temperature didn't seem to increase even a modicum within a minute, Hannah grumbled, "To hell with it," and quickly dipped under the stream to scrub.

It certainly was the fastest shower she ever had—about a good three minutes flat. A bottle of body wash was in the corner; she took a quarter sized amount and scrubbed her body down like she was on fire. She washed her hair in it, too, desperate to get the sour smell off her head. The very second she was done she lunged out to turn the water off. Not once did the tap produce warm water.

And then she realized she had forgotten to grab herself a towel.

This was not some friend of a friend's house; this was a building full of strangers—passive-aggressive, distrustful and rude ones at that—and a situation like this was like being in the presidents house and shitting your drawers.

What could she do? Stand there until her skin air-dried, maybe. She'd freeze in the process, but it would avoid any awkward confrontation that was otherwise inevitable. That's what she would do. Someone would probably come knocking after a few minutes, and maybe then she could ask for help. Or tell them she just needed some privacy. Oh God no, that wouldn't be awkward, Hannah. Fuck.

After tending to her hair and trying to brush off the water from her skin, a knock sounded at the door, sure enough. Hannah hesitated briefly before clearing her throat. "Yes?"

"I have some clothes fer ya."

Her heart jumped into her throat like Bill had actually walked into the room to see her naked. "Oh?"

"I'll just pass them to ya through the door."

She bit her lip. "Okay."

There was a pause. After a few seconds, the door opened a crack, and Bill handed in a pile of neatly folded clothes: a fresh pair of jeans, a pair of panties, and a white blouse with light pink roses printed on them. "Should fit."

Hannah stepped up behind the door and reached out for the clothes. As soon as she had them in her hands, Bill closed the door forcefully, cutting her off mid thanks.

"Now, was that so hard?" she heard Norma say from down the stairs.

"Yes," was Bill's muffled reply.

* * *

One would think the smell of cooking coyote was not a pleasant one, but somehow Norma made the house smell heavenly. She cooked the meat like a turkey in the gas stove with onions, carrots and leeks. Over the fire she boiled potatoes and water for tea. For desert there were jars of strawberry and rhubarb lined up on the counter, positively glowing in candlelight.

These people were eating well. 

The moment Hannah stepped out of the bathroom, she was commissioned for work. Her and Ian went down into the cellar with the little boy, whose name was mentioned in conversation (in which Hannah was not involved) as Dylan. They stocked away the moose meat Bill had collected in a man-made freezer, collected teabags, and checked the mousetraps for rodents. The cellar was unfinished; it looked like a mineshaft. "Bill's been working on this house for ten years," Ian said in passing, barely looking at her. "He's a bit of a procrastinator."

"I'm not even ten yet," Dylan informed her as if it were dire news.

"This is his house, then?"

"Yeah. Used to be Norma's land, but she sold it to him years ago. Bill's known her since he was little. Heck, we've all known Norma since we were little." He then eyed her suspiciously. "You from around here?"

"Barrhead. Never been out here before."

"Really? Well, I guess town folk don't have much to do in Campsie. But you've never been to Thunder Lake, even?"

Hannah shook her head. "We always went to the water park in West Edmonton Mall."

Ian apparently did not think highly of this, for he scoffed and turned his cheek.

When they resurfaced into the basement and up on the main floor, the three other ladies and two men were setting a table beside the kitchen in the bay area. There were an assortment of dining chairs, lawn chairs and stools, and even an overturned milk carton for seating. It was obvious to see that there were ten natural spots and an eleventh one shoved in awkwardly for her.

That was when she knew she wanted to get the hell out as soon as possible.

"Set yourselves down for grace if you've washed up already. Dinner's a comin'," Norma said.

Hannah sat herself down on the milk carton and waited, watching everyone at work and not daring to keep her eyes on any one individual for long. She noticed quite quickly that the little girl was sensitive, shy, and quite possibly mute. Every time she got in someone's way or set a dish down improperly, she seemed to tear up. Dylan was slow and lazy, and the mother was tight-lipped and introverted like she had an abusive husband watching her every move. On closer inspection, everyone seemed to have that air about them, save for Norma. She was the standing chef, the commanding officer, the head of household. She conducted everyone's task like a circus ringer with eight arms, and she did it well.

"Ian, run up and get Bill," she commanded.

Ian did not seem interested in doing this in the slightest.

"Git!"

"I dunno if he'll—"

"You tell him to get his ass down here and eat the meal I made for him," she said, punctuating her words with finger jabs. Ian did as he was bid.

"Hannah, dear, milk, tea, or water?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't make me say it again."

"Milk. Please."

After all the drinks, dishes and foods were brought to the table, hands were washed and seats were taken. The little girl and her brother sat on either side of Hannah. She immediately thought of a personal angel and devil on either shoulder; she imagined little horns on Dylan's head.

"I can make my tongue into a clover leaf. See?" Dylan demonstrated his genetic ability.

Hannah had never been good with kids. She nodded. "Oh. I see." 

"And I can cross my eyes," he said, doing just that, "or one eye"—he did his left—"or the other eye"—he did his right—

"Enough, Dylan," his mother said. All antics ceased.

There was a sharp yell from upstairs followed by a slamming door. Everyone froze; Norma sighed.

"All right, Ian, you did your part. Let's eat."

Ian came down the stairs like a wounded puppy. The atmosphere thickened; everyone seemed on edge when he sat, like he'd taken some sort of disease from Bill and brought it downstairs. Each place was claimed, save for the one beside Norma.

"Peter," she said, turning to the oldest man, "would you do us the honours?"

Peter, a man with a head so shiny the sun would squint from the glare, bowed his head and began to mutter a prayer in a watery voice. Hannah followed suit, though only hung her head halfway and did not close her eyes. She could only hear half the prayer, and the half she did hear made her uncomfortable. It was about bestowing good will on them in times of strife and gifting them with such a lavish meal. Hannah inwardly scoffed. If there was a God, he initiated Judgement Day. Bill had caught their meal. Norma had cooked it.

"Amen," Peter said. Everyone but Hannah muttered the same.

"Before we begin, we should get everyone properly introduced," said Norma. "This new addition to our dinner table is Hannah. I'll let you say a few words about yourself, if you like."

"Oh. Uh. No thanks."

"Suit yourself. On my left here is Peter, who just led prayer. Beside him is his wife June and their son Dave with his wife Kelly. Caroline is the mother of the two fine children on either side of you, Dylan and Diana, and Ian you've already met and mingled with. I don't think I need to tell you about the man of the house."

Hannah shook her head nervously.

"All right. Dig in."

Everyone reached for a plate or dish with a delicate reserve, but Hannah could tell they were just as famished as she was and just barely restraining themselves. They dished themselves small portions and passed the food down. Hannah desperately wanted to take more, but didn't out of politeness and necessity.

There was no dinner conversation. Everyone ate their meal like it was the last. The food tasted off, but it was the best thing she had eaten in a good week. It was probably as good as it would ever get anymore. It didn't take long for the plates to be cleared and the desert to be dished and devoured.

Everyone rose to put away their plates by the sink. Hannah followed their lead but hovered in the kitchen, unsure of what was socially acceptable for her to do next. As if on cue, Norma snapped her fingers and pointed. "Ian and Hannah, you can be on dish duty," she said. Without further word, Ian rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and headed for the sink.

"I wash, you dry?" he asked as he passed Hannah.

"'Kay."

He grabbed a few dish towels and started to fill the sink with water. "We have to be careful with what we use because we run on wells. It's been hard to heat up lately on account of the weather, so it'll be a bit cold to the touch."

"I know."

He looked at her guiltily. "Sorry 'bout your shower."

"I'm glad I got one at all."

He passed her dishes in silence and she dried them as thoroughly as possible, picking her fingers away from the cold. When the dishes were done, Hannah turned to see everyone was gone from the main floor, save for Dave and Kelly.

"Where did everyone go?" Hannah asked.

"We all keep to ourselves after dinner, really," Ian explained. "Bill stays in his room most of the time, and Norma and Caroline take the others. Peter and June stay in the basement and Dave and Kelly keep to the living room."

"So where do you stay?"

He shrugged, nodding his head over his shoulder. "I usually stay in the laundry room."

Hannah stared at the door Ian had indicated. "Is there someplace for me to stay?"

"Oh, you, uh... can... no."

"Well... can I bunk with you? Maybe?"

She saw him hold his breath. His Adam's apple slid up and down his throat. "Yeah. Okay."

* * *

As it turned out, Ian made himself a bed by sleeping on a pile of old sheets, so he made Hannah a bed similar. He went about the house and collected things for her to do—books, magazines, knick knack toys—but she ended up just chatting with him. 

"So. Greet many people by shotgun?" she asked.

"Oh. Um—" he said, breaking into laughter when she did, "sorry 'bout that. This whole thing's got me... jumpy."

"Yeah," she agreed. They fell silent. "You know, you kind of look like an actor, especially when you've got a girl at gun point. What's his name... um...." She snapped her fingers to try and jog her memory.

"Gerard Butler?"

"Yeah! But much younger."

"I get that a lot."

"And skinnier."

"I'm not that skinny."

"Not a bad skinny!"

"I've got an over-active metabolism."

"Oh-ho, and you're complaining?"

"Well... no—"

"So many people would murder you for that thyroid."

"I'd like to fill out at least a little."

"You look fine. Maybe the apocalypse will be good on your muscles."

That effectively killed the conversation. The smile faded off his face like a dying light. Hannah averted her eyes. They sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Did you, um... did you lose anyone?" he asked carefully.

She nodded. "Both my parents got sick. I shut myself in a hotel room for a week. When I came out...."

"I lost my parents, too. My dad died of cancer last year. Mom... killed herself last week."

Hannah's jaw dropped and she covered her mouth. She was about to blurt "I'm sorry" when she stopped herself. "How are you doing?" she asked carefully, curious of the answer.

"Honestly? I don't feel.... And there's guilt because I feel like I should feel awful. But I can't. Maybe it's shock... I mean, I say it out loud, and it's like I'm telling you about the weather. Why, how are you doing?"

She shrugged. "About the same."

"Everyone here's lost someone. We all came to Bill's 'cause he's got the biggest, safest house."

Hannah did not want to sound ungrateful or haughty, but it came out that way. "Why is he so... angry?"

Ian gave her that curious stare again. She tried to meet him evenly but felt like she was being drilled with lasers from his eyes. "It's how he's dealing with it. He's lost... a lot."

They sat quietly for a while, remembering things that ought not have been remembered. Then a question struck her. "Why was he so far out of Campsie?"

Ian eyed her gravely. "We're running out of stuff out here is why."

In a zombie apocalypse in Canada, you die from winter, not zombies.

She laughed and immediately felt pathetic about it.

* * *

They talked for a few more hours, during which Hannah learned Ian was on the cusp of his twentieth birthday, his middle name was Ryan, and he was left handed. They both liked board games over TV shows and had a fond distaste for country music. Fast friends, they were. Before they bid each other good night, they were trying to smother their giggles.

Then she remembered she planned on leaving.

Well... now that she had developed a rapport with Ian, she didn't think she wanted to leave, not just yet. She knew she was just latching onto the first friendly face she'd seen since this disaster hit, but it made her feel immensely better. As she closed her eyes, she decided she'd give it a few days at least.

When she fell asleep, she was unaware, but she knew she had to be dreaming. Someone was fingering her slowly, his breaths coming in pants in her ear. She tried to see who it was, but in the dream world, things were fuzzy, and her eyes didn't work so well. When the man slipped in between her legs and withdrew his hand, she saw Bill's face, plain as day.

Her eyes snapped open. Her heart was hammering; her lower muscles were clenched; her entire body was tense. And she felt an undeniable ache in between her legs.

She wasn't supposed to be dreaming about... about him. If anyone, it was supposed to be Ian. And she wasn't even sure she was attracted to the guy. Bill had been a bastard. Sure, he potentially saved her life, but beyond that, he tended to abuse her emotionally, at least from the little interaction they had.

She slowly peered over her shoulder to see if Ian was awake. It was pitch black in the room, save for a sliver of moonlight that poured in through the frosted window. His chest rose and fell slowly—he was fast asleep.

It was obviously a bad idea, but she wasn't going to be able to sleep the rest of the night. Moving slowly, she unbuckled her belt and undid her jeans. She shimmied them down inch by inch, not daring to to go any faster, but dying to relieve the ache then and there.

Her pants were just under her buttocks when she slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties. Her breath threatened to tumble but she held it in, revelling in the electric tingle on her skin where she touched. It had been a long time since she'd been here, and it felt twice as intense as she remembered. She simply traced her lips with two fingers at first, gently rubbing up and down, throwing cautious glances over at Ian, who showed no signs of stirring.

Teasing would not do for long, however. Soon she was earnestly massaging circles around her clit, her heartbeat and her breath quickening. She had to open her mouth in order to breathe more deeply and keep quiet. It was surprising how turned on she was and how easily she was pleasuring herself. It usually took much longer than this.

She made sure one more time that Ian was indeed asleep. Then she stretched back, closed her eyes, and started to give in to her bizarre, guilty pleasure.

She imagined Bill stretched out beside her again, his middle finger slowly drawing in and out of her, massaging a sweet spot just inside. To aid the fantasy, she slipped her own finger in her opening. An uncontrollable moan left her throat and she silenced herself immediately, pausing to check her security. When she found Ian still asleep, she resumed, taking the fantasy further.

The whiskers on his cheek brushed against the soft spot on her neck as he sucked on her earlobe. His other wand weaved into her hair; he gently pulled, tilting her head back. A jolt ran down her belly. She arched her back and ran her hand over her chest.

Next Bill traced light kisses over her breasts, pausing briefly to tease a nipple. He worked his way down her body, his hand following his kisses, tracing lightly yet scratching her from the callouses. She loved the feeling. Then he took his hand away as he slipped between her legs. The first thing she felt was his warm breath on her skin, his mouth hovering inches over her. But he wouldn't give her satisfaction.

She breathed his name, remembering that she needed to be stone quiet. What would it feel like for him to go down on her? She couldn't even imagine. 

It went on and on for minutes. Bill stroking parts of her body, kissing her, growling low against her skin, his finger inside her, stroking sensually slow. Most of all, it was the image of his face hovering inches above hers that she imagined, staring down at her with those water-green eyes like she was the only girl on Earth.

She shifted her shoulders and head, tilting it to the side. Then she realized something was off. She opened her eyes a crack, then wider, then wider.

Ian was staring at her; she could see the whites of his eyes in the moonlight. She froze and stared back, trying to figure out quickly what to do or how to feel. 

"Hannah?" His voice was tight and strained.

Obviously she had been caught. "Yeah."

"Um... n—never mind."

After a few seconds, he turned his head and shifted, trying to get back to sleep. Hannah remained still, her hand still poised over her mound. Time to give in and go to sleep....

She could still see Bill's face hovering over hers.

"Ian?" 

He tried to answer but his voice squeaked. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yeah?"

She withdrew her hand from her underwear and pushed herself to her feet. Ian turned around quickly, but with some sort of apprehension in his movements, like he was scared to see what was coming. He watched her approach, growing more tense the closer she came. She stood at his feet and looked down, still aware that her jeans were hitched around her hips and her fingers were glistening.

It was like she was a wolf and he was a frightened rabbit; he propped himself up on his elbows and quickly shuffled backward when she lowered to her knees beside him. She held her hands out as if it would calm him down. When he stopped scrambling, she unbuttoned her borrowed blouse. "Is this okay?" she whispered.

Ian didn't move or speak or otherwise indicate that he'd heard her. When she repeated his name, she saw him give the most miniscule of nods. In response, she let the shirt glide off her shoulders, leaving a shiver in its wake. First the bra straps went, then she unclasped the back and discarded the article on the ground. The air nipped at her skin; her nipples stiffened; her excitement built up.

Tentatively she reached out for Ian—who was cowering under her like she was threatening him—and took his hand in hers. His hands were cold and a bit clammy, but once she encouraged him to grasp her breast, all she could feel was a cool tingle.




Fever 01



A shuddering breath escaped Ian; Hannah held her own. All he did was let his hand rest there, but when she leaned in to him, he gave a slight squeeze. Her eyes fluttered shut as he indirectly rubbed her nipple and caressed the soft underside of her breast. When he lifted his other hand to knead her other side, she gently pushed down her pants and underwear off her hips and shimmied out of them.

Ian shut up like one of Bill's bear traps when Hannah leaned in to kiss him. She prodded him with her tongue, trying to get him to open up, but he remained steadfastly shut. Eventually she pulled back and hovered.

"I've never done something like this," Hannah admitted.

"Me neither."

"Do you not want to?"

"I... do, yeah."

"Well... this is just as scary for you as it is for me, so... could you... give some encouragement?" She gave him her pleading gaze, and even though he probably couldn't see her, the effect carried on her words.

When she leaned in to kiss him again, he locked lips with her. Tentatively he stuck his tongue in her mouth, but it was stiff and hard like a struggling fish. Hannah pulled away a bit and cupped his face in her hands, encouraging him to relax. He was still a little tense, but he started to mimic her movements, massaging, swirling, pushing, sucking.

His hands roamed from her chest to her sides, stroking the soft curves and squeezing her softest spots. Suddenly he hooked his hands around her ass and hauled her forward on top of him. Their legs intertwined and their bodies pressed tight; she could feel every solid, bony inch of his body, but the most noticeable feature was the stiff erection running from her upper thigh to just below her bellybutton. Ian continued to kiss her as she went slack against him, anticipation burning in her belly.

"You... okay..." Ian muttered between kisses.

Hannah moaned in return, slowly rubbing her hips up against his thigh, brushing his member through his pants.

Ian matched her rhythm, his hands touching her everywhere, the caresses turning into grasps, going from sensual to desperate. They pulled and pushed, ground and squeezed, nipped and hissed. The only problem seemed to be that Ian didn't know when to move forward, did not seem to have any inclination of taking the lead. Even when Hannah tugged at the hem of his shirt, he didn't so much as budge to help remove it.

Hannah broke away. "Can we... have sex now?"

Ian stared at her, dumbstruck, like he hadn't expected that conclusion.

"I. Um." He swallowed. "No condoms."

"I don't care," she whispered back. She had only had sex once before, and that guy had said pulling out was just fine. She hadn't gotten pregnant, in any case, so pulling out was just a good an option as any, in her books. Especially right now.

Once again, Ian did not initiate a thing. Hannah lifted herself off of him and went for his pants, catching the faint outline of the stain she left on his thigh. When she had his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, she had to yank at his hips so that he would raise them. She pulled his pants off by herself; he was too paralysed with fear to help.

His dick stood straight up like a mast. She was a bit surprised at how large he was; given his build, she had assumed all of him was slim and compact. How was it he walked around with such a large appendage to throw him off balance?

"Wow," she muttered, managing a nervous smirk. It died quickly when she met his anxious stare.

"You sure?" he asked, choking on his own words.

"Yeah."

It was her move, and now she was starting to sympathize with his lack of take charge attitude. She realized that trying to imagine him as Bill only made her more nervous, so she closed her eyes and climbed up his body, letting his cock brush her right down her middle as she moved into place. Gripping his base, she pressed his head right against her cusp.

"Hannah...."

"Yeah?"

He looked between the place they were connected and her eyes. "Nothing."

She lowered herself onto him.

Ian made a noise halfway between a groan and a gurgle. He grasped her hips so hard she thought she'd bruise. Slowly, inch by inch, she took him in, then drew back again, just trying to get used to his size. It stretched her wider than she remembered feeling the first time. Down, up, down, up, every time a little bit deeper, up until she had him down to the hilt.

He was trembling, short of breath, eyes rolling and blood pulsing; she could feel his heartbeat through his dick. It made her tighten around him. He choked out a swear and held onto her tighter still.

Hannah let herself adjust before she slowly slid up half his length again. Still sore, still tight, but she found the pain was kind of exciting. She sank back down on him, wincing and sighing; he had a look of anguish drawn across his face. After teasing him for what felt like minutes, she leaned forward, propping herself on his chest and picked up her pace.

"Shit!" he choked, his body going terse and his legs shaking from spasms.

Hannah caught the gist just in time; she lifted herself up off of him as he came, letting the juice smear against her thighs and her pussy. 

Well... that hadn't lasted long. Hannah could tell from the get-go that Ian was obviously a virgin. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, but she still felt disappointment that her attempt to get off had only resulted in more sexual anxiety than what she began with. After Ian seemed to come down from his high, Hannah climbed off of him and used a corner of one of his sheets to wipe herself off.

"S—sorry," he spluttered.

"It's all right." It was far from all right, but you'd never catch Hannah telling such a truth.

"Do you... um... wanna try again?"

"It doesn't work like that," Hannah began to lecture, then glanced down. He was still hard, standing to attention.

"I've never had a problem with stuff like that," he explained, smiling shyly.

She gnawed on her lip and laughed quietly. Once Ian came, she had assumed an inevitable close to their night, which would result in days and days of awkward greets and one word discussions. Even now that he was rearing to keep going, Hannah was doubting whether or not to continue.

Why the fuck shouldn't I?

She climbed back on top of him almost eagerly. This time he appeared less nervous when he grasped her waist and guided her onto his erection. When she slid down onto him, it was quick and painless and utterly satisfying.

Hannah started sweet and slow, but couldn't keep it up for long. At first she made soft, whimpering moans, but as her pace increased, so did her volume. She reached for one of Ian's hands and stuck one of his fingers in her mouth to suck on, effectively muffling her noise. With her other hand she touched the hood of her pussy and drew it around and around in steady circles. Eyes closed, cunt filled and clit attended to, the fantasy returned easily.

It was Bill under her, not Ian. She believed he would be more aggressive and dominant than Ian was, but if she distanced herself enough from reality, his dick sliding in and out of her was good enough to fulfil the desire. Ian bucked a little bit underneath her, trying to contribute his part, but he only threw off her rhythm, so she held a hand to his chest and encouraged him to lie still. He moaned, whether in ecstasy or aggravation or both, and instead grabbed one of her ass cheeks with his free hand and squeezed. She clenched her muscles, squeezing him harder.

"I'm gonna come again soon," he told her breathlessly.

"Pull me off when you do," she panted, tugging faster at her clit. She leaned her head back—it was easier to pretend she was lying on her back that way, having Bill fuck her like he didn't care if she wanted it or not.

When Ian pulled her up and away, she kept massaging herself desperately, knowing that if she stopped now, it would take forever to reach her peak. "Can we keep going?" she begged, rocking into her own hand, hoping desperately for more.

Without a word, Ian cleaned himself off and pulled her onto him again. This time he slid into her and began to slip in and out of her. His movements were a bit jerky and sporadic, but with guidance from her hand on his hip, he was able to fall into a smoother pattern, moving in just the right ways.

The line between reality and fantasy blurred, and the feeling of Bill actually fucking her made her stomach soar and her insides clench.

"I'm coming," she said to no one in particular, causing Ian to thrust with twice as much vigour as before. Her pleasure built up so quickly that she nearly botched up the timing of her own strokes—but the release struck her at just the right time, snaking through her legs and arms and gripping her heart. She must have been calling out louder than she realized, for suddenly Bill's—no, Ian—Ian's hand was around her mouth. Remembering it was his cock she was riding, she consciously squeezed him harder with each contraction, feeling high on the orgasm and the thought of making another man come.

She wanted to do that to Bill.

Too late she realized Ian was pushing her, unsuccessfully detaching her from his penis. With a frightful gasp she pulled away, dripping cum onto his stomach and crotch. For a good minute, the only sound was of panting.

"So... thanks," Hannah whispered after a while.

"Uh... yeah. Thank you."

She climbed off of him. "Good night."

"Night."

Hannah collected her clothes in her arms, travelled four feet to her own makeshift bed, then laid down to redress herself. Once her jeans were fastened and her blouse buttoned, she turned her back to Ian and tried to get comfortable.

Despite all her efforts, she did not sleep all night. She was pretty sure Ian didn't, either.



Fever



She closed her eyes and wallowed in the sensations that engulfed her. She enjoyed the weight of his body draped alongside hers as they sprawled in unison upon the comforter draped over the bed they shared. With arms wrapped lightly about she drifted, seduced by the rhythm and touch of his breath. In and out of consciousness she drifted until... 

She woke to find him lying lazily beside her, just as he was when she first found her dreamless sleep. Her head felt heavy, her body ached and when she first turned to face him her stomach churned in light yet unwelcome protest. 

"Uummmm" She moaned pitifully. 

"How ya feelin' babe?" He asked, tentatively touching her forehead. 

She wanted to say something smart, something sassy in reply, but "crappy," was all that she managed as she inched toward him on the bed. 

"Can I get you anything? Something to eat? A glass of water perhaps?" 

"Nuh, uh." She shook her head lightly as she buried it in his neck, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling close. 

She felt awful. She didn't want to eat. She didn't want to drink. She didn't want to move. But she wanted him. 

The feeling of necessity that welled up inside of her from being so close to him, surprised her in her current state but the need was strong and would not be denied. Slowly she reached down and took hold of his manhood, trying to coax it into a more cooperative state. Her unexpected advances caused his breath to catch in his chest. 

"You're not feeling well love," he said. 

"I know," she whispered into his ear as she licked and nibbled on his lobe. "Make me feel better, Pleeeease?" 

"How can I do that, dear?" He asked. "I'm no doctor." 

"But you can be. You can be my doctor." She smiled. "I don't feel well, you can check me over, make me feel GOOD again." Still massing his cock and balls, more urgently now. 

"I see, well I'd better have a look at you, tell me little one, where does it hurt?" 

"Everywhere," She answered honestly. "But mostly, here." 

She led his hand down between her thighs, the amount of heat radiated in her fevered state almost doubled that of normal and his breath caught again as he swallowed hard. 

"Hmmm, I see." He said. "Well, wet and cold means that all is well. You're not cold...not in the least but you're DEFINITELY wet...so, I can only deduce that you're half-well, nothing abnormal there, I'd better have a look at the rest of you." He began to withdraw his hand. 

"NO!" She bit down firmly on his earlobe. "Don't stop. It hurts, rub it," she whined through clenched teeth. 

"It hurts? Really???" He teased. "I'd better have a closer look." 

She released his earlobe and he rose quickly before she could find purchase again, forcing her thighs apart as far as they would go he kneeled before her, looking down at her with a grave expression as if studying a matter of utmost importance. She watched him impatiently as he looked from her face to her aching pussy and back again several times. 

"Hmmm," He voiced finally. "Does it hurt here?" He parted her pink lips with a finger, running it lightly up and down their length. 

"M-Hmm" She answered, his teasing touch sending a shiver through her feverish form. 

"What about here?" He asked as he lifted the hood of her clit with his finger adding another to flick the small, but engorged knob, not so lightly. A sharp intake of air and then... 

"Yes" 

"Here?" 

He entered her with a come-hither gesture rubbing along the frontal wall of her oh-so-wet-and-warm opening and withdrew. 

"Yesss." 

"And..." 

He paused before running a finger back and down circling around the small tight entrance back there. "Here?" Her back arched as he touched her there...by now she was quivering more from need than the fever. He withdrew yet again simply looking down at her. 

The sickness was causing her impatience to grow... 

"Damn it, quit fucking around and fuck me!" She demanded. 

His tongue clicked reproachfully as his eyes met hers. "Is that any way to address the person in charge of your well-being? We wouldn't want to misdiagnose you now, would we?" 

Her aggravation was growing. With him still kneeling before her he was in the perfect position. Her knees bent bringing her feet together and in front of him, pinching his sack between her toes. He gasped painfully and pinched her ass in rebuttal. 

"Owww." She cried releasing her hold. 

He backed off of the bed, grabbing her legs and pulling her forcefully to him until her rear hung precariously off of the edge. Pushing her thighs upwards and together, he entered her in one quick thrust, bending down and nipping at her neck with his teeth. She cried out and grabbed hold of him, her nails digging into his shoulders. 

"Is this what you wanted?" 

He breathed heavily into the delicate flesh between his teeth. She nodded as well as she could. 

"I'm sorry, my dear," he said pulling out of her. "but as I said, this is quite serious...I'm afraid that in order to take effect, your medicine will have to be administered... elsewhere." 

He smiled slyly as he watched her eyes widen from the implication then nodding he guided his swollen shaft down between the now clenched cheeks of her smooth round ass applying ample pressure to her tight hole. 

"Ummm..." She began.

"Hmmm?" 

"Go slow. Please?" 

"Shhhh," He replied, trailing kisses over her neck and cheeks and lips as he carefully increased the pressure pulling back and then closer again. Pulling back and then a bit more pressure...back and back again, until "Pop" She gasped and pulling him closer to her she moaned ecstatically. 

"MmmmMmm, Ohhh Yessss." She purred in his ear. 

The hard part was over and he moved freely within her. What was almost painful just seconds before was pure bliss to her now and she drove herself against him, forcing him to enter her harder and deeper with each thrust. 

He stood up and letting her legs fall to the sides he brought one hand to her hip to steady her...the other found the heated slit of her now dripping pussy and entered her there thrusting in unison with his pulsing cock, his palm rubbing against her swollen clitoris. 

He watched her intently as he continued to make love to her, watched the arch of her back in response to the sensations he was giving her, watched her head move from side to side in pleasure, watched her hands clenching and unclenching on the bed sheets which now lay in a fit of disarray as she bucked and thrust herself against him in a frenzy and he listened. 

He listened to her rapid and uneven breathing and to the primal moaning that now emerged from the depths of her throat as he rubbed faster with his palm against her. 

"Oh yES!, Oh yesss...Oh fuck...Oh God yessss.." 

She began to quiver and shake beneath him no longer moving beneath/before him, now simply steadying herself against the onslaught of her orgasm as he continued to move at a determined pace until amid the chaos of her own pleasureful spasms she could feel him begin to swell even further inside of her and then pulse powerfully as he emptied himself deep within her, half collapsing on top of her spent form.

It was all they could do to work themselves back up towards the head of the bed, worn and tangled in each others arms her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, and they fell asleep that way. 

Until... 



Fever



Our hero wakes up in an ICU unit with some desirable mental powers and decides to try to help some people have better lives. He does relieve some loneliness. Obviously, it is all fiction (damn), and everyone is over 18. Votes and comments welcome. Signed comments, public or private will be acknowledged. Enjoy. Jb7

*

Meg Reynolds was near despair. She watched her only son, Kirk, as he lay comatose in the ICU bed, his head wrapped in plastic tubing carrying cold water around his skull in an attempt to reduce the 105 degree fever which had been attacking his brain for the past week. Doctors were totally stymied, unable to account for the fever, and for the weird temperature pattern in Kirk's body. 

Anal and axillary temperature readings were normal. Oral, aural, and infra red readings of the face and skull were all at or above 104. They had been unable to identify the agent causing the fevers; antibiotics, antivirals, antifungals, had all been tried and failed. CAT, PET, and MRI scans had proved unremarkable in attempting to identify or locate the source of the infection, if that is what it was.

Ten days ago, the 25 year old Psychology doctoral candidate had been at work at his clinical internship site, the local state hospital for the mentally ill. One of the patients, on lunch duty washing dishes, had started throwing water around the kitchen. Kirk had gone in to intercede and slipped on the wet floor, hitting his head on the floor. Momentarily stunned, he laid on the floor until his head cleared. The patient, copying what he had seen in the movies, had thrown a basin of dirty dishwater in his face. 

Two days later, Kirk had awoken with a raging headache, barely able to lift his head from his pillow. That afternoon, he had collapsed at work and the fever had started.

Meg saw the attending physician approaching in the reflection in the window. As she drew near, Meg turned to greet her. "Dr. Hsu, good morning. How is Kirk doing?"

"Good morning, Mrs Reynolds. All I can say is he's no worse, But, he's also no better. The cooling tubes don't seem to be helping the way we wanted. I can't say they're helping, but, since we applied them, the temperature climb has stopped. May I ask you to step into my office? We need to discuss his prognosis."

In the sparsely furnished office, Dr. Hsu had Meg sit and offered her a cup of coffee, then asked if there was anyone else she would like present. Meg shook her head, explaining she was a widow, and Kirk, an only child. The doctor started by expressing her personal, and her team's, frustration and puzzlement at Kirk's situation. 

The danger of exposure to such a high temperature for such an extended period, usually, was death. They considered the fact he was still alive, and responding to pain stimuli, a miracle. If he continued with such a high fever, Meg had to be prepared for a severe decline in ability. 

That being said, the doctor went on, the team had identified a possible treatment. One that was totally off protocol. A new, powerful radioisotope was being used with some success in treating cancerous tumors, lymphoma and bacterial encephalitis in lab animals. 

It might, the doctor said, emphasizing might, offer some hope. Except for the unusual temperature distribution, Kirk's symptoms technically qualified as encephalitis. By inserting small amounts of the isotope into his skull, they might be able to kill whatever agent was causing the fever.

"How would you place the isotope; would it require surgery?" asked Meg.

"No, we would be able to insert it into the sinus cavity; we would place three minuscule amounts and use adhesive to secure them; one near each outer edge and one centrally placed.."

"Would there be any side effects, if it worked?"

"It's impossible to predict. We have no idea in what condition Kirk is going to come out of this. In the lab animals, side effects have tended to be species specific, i.e., the rats all had similar effects, rabbits, different side effects from the rats, but among the rabbits, they were similar. Same with the monkeys, different from the rats and rabbits, but among the monkeys, similar effects. I can say, they all appeared to be somatic, physical, and none seemed to be particularly debilitating or incapacitating."

"When?"

"If we have your permission, it can be done by lunchtime." Meg nodded. "I'll get things started," said Dr. Hsu, standing up.

The isotope had been placed without moving Kirk from his isolation cubicle. An hour later, unexpectedly, in spite of the cooling coils, his temperature began to rise precipitously, leveling off at 107.5, where it remained for 36 hours, then rapidly declined to normal. Kirk, however, remained comatose. In the absence of any fever, after 24 hours he was removed from isolation and placed in a 'normal' ICU bed.

Tiffany Williams, a 30 year old medical technician, was one of a dozen techs who regularly worked in the ICU. Although the patient load wasn't huge, it was considered hard duty. On a normal medical floor, vitals were taken once a shift, unless ordered more frequently. 

In the ICU, in spite of the constant monitoring, they were taken by hand every hour. In addition, there were several other observations she had to make, such as level of alertness, depth of breathing, eyes open or closed, was patient skin hot, cold, dry, clammy, was there any kind of response when their name was called.

She was reviewing her shift orders for the evening when she saw them wheeling the white boy with the crazy fever out of isolation to room 15. She picked up his chart to see if anything special had been ordered for him. At the top of the list, highlighted, was a bath and lotion rub. She smiled; that was one of the favorite parts of her job. She was a firm believer in the healing power of simple human contact.

Tiffany finished her review and made sure her cart was stocked and powered up. Since the order for the bath for the white boy had been highlighted, it meant that it was important. She could understand, that high a fever for that long, his skin was probably peeling off in sheets. She gathered the supplies and paraphernalia she would need and entered his cubicle, pulling the curtain to maintain his privacy and modesty. 

She folded down the blanket and sheet to his hips and proceeded to wash and dry his torso. Covering his chest, she then did the same for his legs, inadvertently brushing his genitals. To her, it was usually one of the casual contacts common between nurse and patient. This time, the result caused her to do a double take. 

Kirk responded to the light brush with a significant surge in his member. It wasn't totally erect, but it had easily doubled in length, she thought. "Wow, I'll have to remember to report this," she was thinking when she became aware of a hand on the back of her thigh, sliding up toward her buttocks. 

She tried to look down to see who was touching her. "Hold still," she heard someone say. The hand continued up her leg, to the apex of the vee her thighs formed. She felt it rub over her perianal area and continue to the area of prominence where it stopped, the fingers of the hand pushing into the crack, wriggling as if searching for something. "Nice ass," came the voice again. "What's your name?"

"Tiffany," she replied aloud.

"Shhh. Don't talk, just think. I'll hear you."

Tiffany then realized she was hearing the voice in her head. A bolt of fright went through her, nearly causing her to wet herself. The voice laughed. "Easy, Tiffany, there's nothing to be frightened of. Nobody's going to hurt you. What's next on your agenda with Kirk here?"

"I have to wash his genital area. Can you remove your hand so I can work?"

The hand moved lower, sliding between her thighs, grazing her labia through her slacks. She gasped at the caress, aware of the heat from the hand. A very low, soft moan escaped her lips. "Hmm," came the voice, "liked that, huh?" Embarrassed, she nodded slightly.

She folded Kirk's blanket down to his knees, not looking at him. She was half turned away from him, facing the foot of the bed. The hand was still firmly planted up against her pussy lips, causing mini jolts of pleasure to pulse through her. She felt her nipples harden, her lady, open and moisten. She was afraid the hand could feel the heat and moisture through her clothes.

When she had her washcloth prepared, she turned back to Kirk and gasped. Fully erect, standing upright like a church spire, his eight inch member beckoned to her. Her empty hand reached out to hold and caress the phallic shaft. While she stroked Kirk, the hand turned to cup her vulva. 

"Take off your clothes," the voice commanded. As if in a trance, she complied, revealing a compact latte-chocolate colored body, with full globular B -sized breasts capped with dark brown erect nipples, a landing strip drawing the observer's eye to her quim.

Once her panties were off, she needed no further instruction. She climbed on the bed and straddled Kirk, sinking onto his shaft. "What if someone comes in?" she thought.

"Noone is going to disturb us tonight." Tiffany looked at Kirk's face and gasped. His bright blue eyes were open, and he was smiling.

"OhmiGod! You're awake! I have to tell the doctor!"

"No, you don't, not tonight. Tonight you have to fuck me, after you take my vital signs. We'll do this again, right?"

As she hit bottom on his shaft, Tiffany nodded, agreeing with Kirk. She knew it was wrong, and could cost her her job, but something was telling her she had to comply. She began moving on the shaft occupying her sheath. Kirk responded with reciprocal thrusts, quickly stimulating the young woman to an orgasm. 

She fell forward onto his chest, mashing her breasts against him. He groaned, thrusting as deeply into her as he could. She felt his seed wash her sheath's walls and sighed contentedly. "Yes, we'll do this again," she murmured, "and again, and..."

A playful slap on the rump, brought her back to reality. She sighed, and climbed off the bed. She was about to thank Kirk when she saw his eyes had closed and all the monitors indicated he was still in his comatose state.

Each hour, Tiffany had gone in to take his vital signs. She had shaken him and called his name, with no response. She had even gone so far as to reach under his sheet and shake and stroke his penis, to no avail. For some reason, when it came time for the last readings on her shift, she started with room sixteen and proceeded away from Kirk's room. This meant that his would be the last reading she took that hour.

When she entered his cubicle, she closed the curtain. When she approached his bed, she saw he had kicked his covers off and was aroused. She quickly took the measurements she needed, and without further instruction, quickly stripped off her slacks and panties. Climbing on the bed, she bent down and kissed her patient on his lips, and was pleasantly surprised when he responded. "Turn around," came the command. "I want to taste you."

"Uh, I haven't had a chance to clean myself since..."

"That's my concern, not yours, Tiffany. You just attend to the part of me trying to imitate the Washington Monument." 

She laughed. "Yessir," she replied and tried to swallow the imitator whole. She soon learned the owner of the cock in her mouth was skilled at cunnilingus. He quickly was able to copy her rhythm. When she licked his crown, he repaid her with tongue caresses to her pleasure bud. 

Initially, attempts to swallow him earned her tongue thrusts into her vaginal sheath, while later ones, as she approached her climax, resulted in Kirk sucking her clit, its hood, and her clitoral shaft into his mouth and lashing it with his tongue. This was the action that finally drove her to orgasm. 

She had Kirk deep within her throat when it hit. She was unable to move anything but her hips, which she smeared all over his face until he finally released her, after she had showered him with her cum.

She lay there, panting from her climax, his cock still imbedded in her throat. She got back up on her knees and started to back off his rod. Just as she was about to let him slip from her lips, she was impelled to begin licking the head. Her tongue began swirling around it, playing along the ridge, finding the sensitive spot on the underside. Something pressed her head back down. Just before Kirk reached the back of her throat, t he pressure disappeared and she felt another pressure to withdraw. 

The pattern was repeated twice, then she continued on her own, increasing her speed and suction power. In a very few minutes, she felt Kirk thrust his hips upward, and then he was filling her mouth with his sweet salty treat. She turned around to share it with him, finding his eyes open. Kirk eagerly shared her treat, and she tasted her residue on his lips. She grinned and kissed him again, saying thank you. This time she heard him say "you're welcome, and thank you," before he closed down.

Tiffany knew she should report something about Kirk's actions tonight, but to admit to having sex with a patient could not only get her fired, but also imprisoned. As she reviewed the night with Kirk, she remembered his initial response when she was washing him. That would be enough to alert the medical team there was some improvement. 

When she was entering the observation, the charge nurse, Joyce, asked her she was writing. Tiffany explained, to the amusement of the older woman.

"You mean you brushed him with the back of your hand and it just leapt up there?"

"No, there was just a surge I could see under the sheet. When I folded it back to wash him, it was laying there, flaccid."

Joyce turned her head, ostensibly, to look at the cubicle being discussed, but mainly to hide her licking her lips as she asked, "Is he very big?"

Without thinking about the appropriateness of the question or her answer, Tiffany answered, "What I saw was about six inches and it wasn't even beginning to stand up."

Joyce was a forty-something tall brunette, married for twenty-five years to a man with a dick just over five inches long. After a hard fuck and massive orgasm for Joyce, he might stretch out to six inches, but then it was so skinny, it didn't do a lot for her. 

Like Tiffany, the bath and lotion rub was her favorite part of the job, but for different reasons. For Tiffany, she believed it helped the healing process. Joyce liked to see the variety in male genitals, and to fondle them. 

She had heard her mother and her friends and co-workers, all nurses, discuss the men who were on their floors. Their variety in shape and size, especially when erect. She heard them talk about how they would tease the men, bending over them to show them some cleavage, or brush against them. A favorite ploy was to drop supplies on the bed between their legs. Then when they reached for tape or gauze, they would brush their hands or fingers against the patient's penis or sac.

Tonight, she had drawn a double shift. Since the patient count for the unit was down, and she was the on-coming charge nurse, the end of shift paperwork was done in less time than it takes to tell. She let Tiffany go a few minutes early since all the vitals were up to date. 

Joyce watched the door swing shut behind the black woman as she drew the curtain on cubicle 15. She walked to the bed and started to draw the sheet and blanket down when she felt a hand slip under the rear of her uniform skirt. She gasped. 

"Quiet!" came the command. The hand drew her nearer to the head of the bed. Then she felt it slip under her panties and a finger slide into her moist opening. It was almost too much for the tall nurse. She realized she was on the edge of coming. 

Whoever was in her head must have realized it, too, for, without warning, a thumb was thrust into her anus, tripping her climax. She fell forward on the bed, her face coming into contact with a very erect, very large, by her standards, cock,

"How you doing, Joyce?"

"Wha...Who are you?" she gasped, barely able to catch her breath.

"I'm the guy with his hand in your pussy, whose cock you're laying on."

She glanced at his face, peaceful in repose. At the monitors, all the same as they had been, all day. "How..."

"I don't know, and I'm not going to sweat it for a while. I want to fuck you, but right now, I'm too tired. Rounds are over around ten this morning, right?" Joyce nodded. "After that, come in to give me a bath. Don't worry about anything else. There won't be any surprises today." He wiggled his thumb, making her moan. "You will come to me, won't you?" She nodded.

For nearly half of the ICU patients, the discussion during rounds consisted of "The patient had responded to treatment as expected and desired. They are ready to be transferred back to their medical floor." For the others, except Kirk, "The patient is stable and responding to the treatment. They need close monitoring for another 24-, or 48-hour period."

The discussion about Kirk continued to focus on finding a cause for his condition, a search Dr. Hsu considered pointless since none of the medications designed to nullify invasive organisms had been effective. Her approach was to manage the symptoms and let the body heal itself. 

While the discussion went on around her, she flipped through Kirk's chart, and saw the entry by the technician about an unusual response by the patient. She swore to herself when the nature of the response was not described. She dismissed rounds and went to talk to the nurse. 

"Excuse me, Nurse, Joyce." she started, remembering a tad late about recognizing the nurses as fellow professionals instead of underlings. "This entry in the chart of the patient in 15. What kind of response? Why wasn't it described?"

"The note by Tiffany?" The doctor nodded. 

"Was she the tech last night?"

"Yes. I asked her about it. She said she couldn't really describe it, because she didn't really see it. When she was washing him, the back of her hand brushed against his genitals. She said she saw a movement under his sheet and, when she folded it back to wash him, his penis was about twice as long as when he was in isolation, still flaccid." The doctor's eyebrows went up.

"Has he been bathed today?" Joyce shook her head no. "I want you to try to recreate the incident, without his sheet covering the, ah, area of interest. Can you do that? I know it comes close to abuse, but it is the first normal sign we've seen from the young man." Joyce nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was being ordered to try to arouse Kirk. "Get your supplies; I'll meet you by the bed."

In the cubicle, Dr. Hsu folded Kirk's bedclothes to the foot of his bed, leaving his whole body exposed. She examined his uncircumcised member. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around it, measuring it. Discounting the foreskin, there was about two and a half inches of penis in her hand. Unconsciously, she gave it a couple of soft squeezes, resulting in a slight surge of warmth in her hand. 

She shook her head, trying to clear it to focus on the task at hand. She glanced at her hand, shocked to see that Kirk's manhood was now protruding from her hand, a growth of at least an inch and a half. Just as that fact registered, Joyce came through the curtain and saw the Chinese woman apparently fondling the comatose patient. 

Not knowing why, she thought, "Are you okay?"

The voice responded, "Yeah, the doc is a strange mix of professional and personal curiosity, concern, and hunger. You two are here to check on Tiffany's strange response? Start my bath by washing my prick. Be gentle, please," the voice laughed.

Joyce smiled as she sat the basin between his legs. "Excuse me, doctor. I'll start with his genitals to see if we get any reaction. If not, then I'll try again at the end."




Fever



The young doctor stepped back, releasing her hold on Kirk, to watch the nurse as she worked. Joyce first soaped her washrag, then gently laved Kirk's pelvic area. While his flaccid staff was still soapy, she pulled back the foreskin and began to spread the soap over his glans, her thumb softly sliding over the frenulum, that spot on the bottom of the shaft where the foreskin is attached to the shaft, which contains the highest concentration of nerve endings on the human male.

Mary Hsu's eyes grew large as she watched the phallus in the nurses hands extend another four inches and become rigid enough to support its own weight. There was a detectable twinge between her legs. 

" I guess," she gasped, "that qualifies as an unusual response, under the circumstances. I'll go make the note in his chart. You should finish him, I mean his bath," she finished, blushing at the double entendre.

"I understand, Dr. Hsu, and I will. Finish his bath," she said she said, smiling, teasing the younger woman, who blushed and smiled at the nurse's joke. 

As soon as the young oriental was gone, Joyce moved the basin and rinsed the erection she had elicited from the young man in the bed. When it was clean, she bent over and closed her mouth over the head and began sucking it as far into her mouth as she could.

She felt one hand start to caress her ass through her uniform dress, and another sliding over her breast. She concentrated on the rigidity trying to make its way down her throat. The hand on her butt was invading the crack between her cheeks. Suddenly she was aware of her panties sliding down her legs, one side at a time. She tried to withdraw, to ask what the hell was happening, but something held her head in position on Kirk's cock. 

When her panties reached her ankles, whatever force was at play lifted first one foot then the other to remove them. When they were finally out of the way, the force holding her head in place disappeared. She pulled her mouth off Kirk and looked at him. His eyes were open and he was grinning like a kid with a new toy. "I wondered if I could do that. Neat, huh?"

Joyce laughed, partly nervous relief, partly amusement, both at the task and at Kirk's obvious glee. Suddenly she was floating into position over him. "Oh, shit!" she whispered, panicked. "For God's sake, don't drop me. There isn't any way I could explain..." She was being slowly lowered on to Kirk's prick. "Ohmigod!! Ohfuck yes oh yes fuckme don't stop don't pass go just fuck me..." 

She continued to babble for the next several minute while Kirk moved her up an down on his shaft. The more aroused she became, the faster she talked until the individual words were unintelligible, sounding like "ohfuckmeohfuckme..." 

Her hands had been busy unfastening the buttons of her dress down to her waist. She had pulled her bra up, exposing a pair of nice pear shaped B-size breasts, with tannish pink puffy nipples, which she had offered to Kirk. 

At the nurses station, Dr. Mary Hsu looked at the curtain drawn across the entry to cubicle 15. She had a flashing vision of Joyce impaled on the patient's cock. The resulting twinge in her pussy was almost painful. 

She knew, she 'knew!' the nurse was in there taking advantage of the young man and that huge cock she had seen. She wanted to be the nurse at that moment, riding that beautiful cock to an orgasm. A muffled moaning scream came from behind the curtain.

Several minutes later, Joyce, smiling broadly, walked out into the view of the ICU attending physician and her patient's mother. "Ah, Joyce! Did Kirk continue to exhibit that unusual response we saw earlier?" Mary Hsu asked the older woman, a sly smile on her face, telling Joyce she knew what had been happening behind the closed curtain.

"Well, Doctor, he continued to exhibit the response, but I don't think, given his age and sex, it was all that unusual."

Mary turned to Meg. "Last night, when Kirk was receiving his bath, the technician washing him noticed a surge in his genital area. Today, while he was being bathed, he developed a full fledged erection, the first normal response we have seen since he entered ICU." She turned to the nurse. "Were there any other developments?"

Joyce swallowed, thought a minute, then answered, "While tending to his hygiene needs, I was able to provoke an ejaculation."

"Provoke an ejaculation?" asked Meg. "How..."

"While washing under his foreskin. It isn't that unusual, especially for someone who has been in the hospital, unable to satisfy their needs in their usual manner. It happens to both men and women. We don't usually make a big deal about it."

Mary reached out and laid her hand on Meg's arm. "Don't worry about it, Meg. Accept it as a positive sign that he's going to be alright. Are you going to be staying long?"

"Uh, no. My employer called me last night. One of the accounts I manage has asked for a mid-year surprise audit. I took an early lunch to stop in. Why, is something going to happen?"

"No, not really. In light of these developments, I was going to give Kirk a full physical and neuro exam to see if there are other signs we may be missing. If anything develops, I'll call you. We have your business number, don't we?" Meg nodded.

The nurse and the doctor watched their patient's mother leave the unit. As soon as the door was closed, the doctor said, "I'm going to go examine Kirk now. Do not let anyone disturb or interrupt me."

"Mary," the nurse started, "there's something..."

"Later. We will compare our 'observations' later. From what I heard, he was able to function satisfactorily, even while unconscious. His monitors never blipped to indicate he had an orgasm."

"No change at all?"

"None. No indication anything unusual was going on in there. 

"This shouldn't take long. I'm not going to try to bring him to climax. We already know that can happen. Given the nature of the exam I'm going to conduct, it is probably better if he doesn't climax."

Mary gave a short laugh. "You're the doctor. But I should warn you..."

But Mary was already disappearing behind the curtain.

As she passed the curtain, she turned to close it, only to see it slide closed without her hand on it. Puzzled, she turned to look at Kirk, and found the bed empty. The squeak which escaped her was intended to be a scream. Standing by the side of the bed was Kirk, all six feet two inches of him, sporting his eight inch staff. 

Mary tried to speak. "Shhh," came the voice in her head. "You're alright. There's no danger." 

Then Kirk began to speak. "Hi, Mary. A little surprised, I imagine. But a nice one, I hope." While Kirk spoke to her, Mary became aware that her lab coat was being unbuttoned, and pulled off her shoulders and arms. She watched it float across the room to drape on the visitor side chair. Then the zipper in the back of her dress was being pulled down. She began to panic.

"Easy, Mary. Isn't this why you came in here?" asked the voice in her head. "I see you have a ton of questions. Where should I start? You don't need to speak; just think your question." 

"Who are you? What have you done to my patient?"

"This is," the voice began, "me, Kirk," he finished, aloud. "I see some lingering doubt, still. What can I tell you about myself which will convince you I'm really me. I have the power of telepathy, that's the voice you hear; telekinesis, that's how I removed your coat and dress; and I can access your memory banks and thought centers. 

"Let's see, you are twenty-seven, met and married your husband at the University of Hawaii, then moved back to Hong Kong, where he works for an electronics firm which reverse engineers products from around the world to manufacture more cheaply. You were a virgin when you married, congratulations on that. 

"You were married six months before you were sent here by the Chinese government. Your husband believes sex is only for procreation, so you've only had sex six times. I am so sorry for you. You do not want to return to him and have been looking for a way to make him divorce you so you will have a reason to stay."

Mary felt her bra being dragged down her arms. She watched it float to the chair with her coat, dress and slip. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her breasts, then felt her panties sliding down her legs. She was totally confused and bewildered. People like Kirk just didn't exist.He had told her things about herself no one but she knew. Everything he had told her was true.

Suddenly, she was floating, her arms being pulled to her sides. Slowly, she was being turned around a vertical axis as Kirk examined her. She was tallish at five seven, slender, a tiny bust, reminding Kirk of the story about the farmer who went to the store to buy his wife a bra: 

When the young female clerk asked what size, he had no idea. Was she as big as the clerk, she asked displaying a fulsome C-cup. No, no, much smaller. As big as on orange? No, too big. As small as a tangerine. Yes, smaller. Puzzled, the clerk tried to think of something smaller than a tangerine. An Egg. Yes! Shouted the farmer, Fried.

Her small breasts were almost entirely nipple and areola, only slightly darker than the surrounding sallow skin. He was pleased to see that she did not trim the glossy, curly muff guarding her vulva.

Kirk guided her to the center of the bed and lay her down in the center, then got on the bed between her knees. He bent forward, kissing her softly, just brushing her lips with his tongue. She jerked her head away in surprise. This was another action her husband did not engage in, fearful of passing harmful germs. Kirk persisted, gentle caresses coaxing Mary to participate. Soon, she was returning open mouth kisses, but lacking passion.

His mouth left hers and started tracing a line along her jaw to her ear, where he stopped to play for several seconds. Mary' breathing rate increased noticeably. When his kisses found the pulse point on her neck, her arms found their way around his shoulders, a small moan escaping from her lips. 

His lips found her breast. Without any trouble, he was able to take the entire mound in his mouth with room to tease her with his tongue. As he caressed the tiny mammary, she gave occasional tiny giggles. When he released her bittie bubbie, he returned to claim another kiss from her mouth. 

This time, she responded with some feeling, allowing his tongue in to play with hers. He returned to her other breast, eliciting several small moans of desire. From her breast he made a line down past her navel, through the glossy patch. His tongue parted her outer lips, sliding over the hood and nub in which so much pleasure could be found. 

These sensations were entirely new to her. Before they were married, she and her husband had spied another couple trading oral sex. The sight of someone voluntarily placing their mouth in such proximity to the areas of waste disposal had made him physically ill. Learning it had excited his fiancé, he had openly wondered if she were secretly perverted. She never mentioned it again.

Kirk's tongue tickling her clit brought Mary's hips and back up of the bed. Only a quickly imposed vocal block by Kirk kept the rest of the ICU floor from knowing what was happening to her. The orgasmic spasm passed quickly, and she dropped back onto the bed. Kirk released the vocal bloc and moved up, over and into the confused young woman. Out at the nurses stat ion, Joyce heard her moan, and smiled. 

Kirk found the Oriental pussy tight. Recalling what he had learned about his partner, he began a slow entry into her sheath. The last couple of inches required a great deal of patience. He realized he was in virgin territory. All Mary was aware of was that she was deliciously filled to her capacity, feeling a rapture she had never known. Her legs found their way around Kirk's hips, her arms around his neck and shoulders, her mouth and tongue to his.

Kirk began his slow thrust and withdraw, moving his hips so he caressed and stimulated a number of the surfaces inside her sheath. Soon Mary was responding with thrusts of her own, matching his rhythm and speed. She was in a lust filled heaven, aware only of the pleasurable sensations emanating from the point they were joined. 

Mary was unaware of it, but Kirk was in her mind, monitoring her progress toward orgasm. He was not pushing her. That was unnecessary. He recognized she was close, but since he was not, he let her proceed to her little explosion of sensation and passion. While she recovered he rested on her chest. 

During the period she was unable to communicate, he surveyed her ovaries and identified three eggs ready to be expelled into her tubes to begin their journey to her uterus. He gave each of them a tiny push. Mary made her first sign of recovery.

Her arms and legs still held him tied to her. Her smile let up her usually dour face. Kirk thought her smile made her extraordinarily pretty, and let the voice tell her so. She blushed, and the smile grew wider. Kirk flexed his staff in her sheath, eliciting raised eyebrows and more smiles. In reply, she flexed her Kegel muscles, making Kirk smile. 

He leaned down and kissed her, letting his tongue lightly caress her lips and push in to caress the surfaces in her mouth. Mary groaned and tightened her legs, thrusting her hips toward him. Kirk correctly interpreted her signal and began to resume his thrusting. 

Mary unwrapped her legs and pulled her knees toward her shoulders, opening herself to Kirk as much as possible. His thrusts became faster, harder, almost pounding Mary into the bed. She began whispering in his ear, "Yes, Kirk, fuck me, harder, faster, do it, come in me, pump me full of you seed, come in me baby, fill me up, more, faster, harder, yes like that, yes do it do it do itdooooo oooooooo ogodi'mcominn nnnnnnnnng!!!"

Her orgasmic groan set off Kirk's fourth ejaculation in about eighteen hours. What it lacked in volume, it made up for in potency. He identified three active sperm and guided them toward the eggs which were making their way down Mary's fallopian tubes. He watched his little swimmers burrow their way into Mary's oocytes, then guided them to her uterus, to let them develop the way nature intended.

Her eyes were just opening as he left the fertilized eggs. He kissed her lightly and said, "Making love to you today has been one of the best experiences I have ever had." Mary blushed, smiling.

"For me, too. I never knew it could be like that. I have never experienced such pleasure. Thank you."

"What will your husband do if you get pregnant while you are here?"

"He would consider it an unforgivable insult to his honor and manhood. He would denounce me to the government as a prostitute and withdraw his support for my studies and living here."

"It would be the equivalent of a divorce?"

"Worse. In his eyes, I would be dead. To the government, I would be an undesirable. I would become a person without a country."

"That wouldn't happen. I have given you three sponsors for citizenship. In about nine months, you are going to be the mother of triplets, a son and two daughters."

Mary's eyes misted over and she buried her face in Kirk's shoulder. "Thank you. I don't understand what has happened to you. But I am so glad it did. What do the teenagers say, so fucking glad."

Kirk laughed. "Me, too." He wrapped his arms around his lover, and crossed his legs behind him. Then he sat back, pulling Mary up and into his lap.

She raised her legs to rest them against his shoulders, sinking down his shaft so he was fully embedded in her. She leaned in to kiss him. "When can we do this again?" she asked him.

"What time are you done here? And where do you live?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You want to leave? But we should do some tests to see what has happened to you, to see if it is a lasting effect, to..."

"What and why don't matter. I can tell you that it is a lasting effect, which means that you, Joyce and Tiffany will have to forget about me. Other wise, about seventeen government agencies will hunt me down for their own purposes. I don't want to live that way. I have some unique mental powers which I can use to help a lot of people lead better, more productive lives. That's all I want to do. 

"I will make sure we meet outside of here, and while you won't understand why, you will be attracted to the me you get to know. I will make you happy so you forget your crazy, misguided husband. Now, I need you to discharge me, against medical advice, with no further reference to unusual responses. Joyce's categorization of my response is sufficient."

Joyce had found him some scrubs to wear out of the hospital. She had also loaned him ten dollars for the cab ride home. As soon as he was out of sight of the nurse, he looked for a rest room. Entering one of the stalls, he envisioned his house and willed himself there. 

Walking into his and his mother's house, he was immediately struck by the general feeling of despair and malaise evident in the building. He sat down in the living room and searched, telepathically, for his mother. 

She was in her office, getting ready to leave for home. The audit her customer had wanted had gone off with no problem. He heard her wonder if she should stop and see him on the way home. He gave her a mental nudge to wait until after supper. He felt a frisson of alarm in reaction to the nudge.

He was sitting in the living room, in his own clothes, when his mother came in the front door. Upon seeing him, she gave a slight scream and seemed ready to faint. Using his telekinetic power, he caught her and helped her to a seat next to him on the couch. 

He watched her as she recovered. When her eyes opened, she grabbed his arm. He felt a mental pressure, like someone was trying to enter his mind. His mother's eyes were boring into his. "Let me in!" she cried aloud.

"How?" he asked, mentally.

"Relax. That's better. The isotope hasn't hurt you. Your powers are still intact?"

"What powers? How come you can get in my head? None of the hospital staff could, although I could get into theirs."

"More than just their minds I saw. You young men. It's always the same. The first thing you guys do is start preying on the defenseless ones' women. Come with me. There are some things you have to know. This will be the most efficient way to get it done." 

She led him to her bedroom, and began to disrobe. "Get your clothes off. This requires maximum body contact. Did you not notice you couldn't communicate with the women until you had established mental contact while in physical, skin to skin contact?"

Kirk laughed. He had noticed that little wrinkle. However, once contact was made, he could follow the person around and contact them any time. He noticed his mother was having some difficulty with the buttons on her blouse. Mentally he moved her hands and simply removed their clothes telekinetically. She looked at him, surprised. "What else can you do?"

He levitated her and placed her on the bed, then lifted and moved himself. He laid himself down beside her. Looking into her eyes, he entered her mind and willed her to move her limbs. She was aware of him commanding her to move, as opposed to when he had simply pushed her hands aside. "You made me decide not to visit the hospital on the way home, didn't you?" He nodded.

She rolled on her side, facing him. Then she reached down and took hold of his sex. Caressing it, she brought him to erection and drew him into her. Pulling his chest to hers, she ordered him, "Closer, we need to have as much bodily contact as we can manage."

Kirk wrapped his mother in his arms, moving his legs so there was skin contact from foot to groin. Their lips joined, and Kirk felt something akin to an electrical shock as the information about his race was imparted to him.




Fever



The information transfer was similar to downloading a two or three page document from the internet. They maintained full contact during the 'download,' during which the taboo character of their situation impressed itself on him. 

As soon as the transfer was complete, he rolled them so his mother was atop him. When she started to object, she felt him enter her mind and quell her objection. She simply shrugged and began to move on him. "This is so wrong, you know," she said, smiling at her son.

"That's what makes it so nice. I've wanted to do this for a long time. You know, you are a lovely woman, physically as well as all that inner stuff I've been studying for the past six or seven years. I wonder if fewer people would be screwed up if they simply acknowledged the fact of this kind of attraction in families and acted on it."

"Would you make the same statement regarding fathers and daughters?"

"With the danger of pregnancy removed, maybe. The fathers would have to also give up notions of territoriality, or ownership of the daughter . 

"I seem to remember reading of a society or a stone age tribe where they had a coming of age ceremony where the opposite sex parent took the teenage child away from the village for a period of time during which t hey taught them how to be good sex partners. 

"Over time, it became the role of a few men and women, who eventually came to be regarded as priests and priestesses, doing the work of their god, ensuring the fecundity and productiveness of the tribe members. But it started with the parents teaching their children how to make love. Still a good idea."

Meg laughed at him. "Trying to justify forcing me to fuck you? You'll have to do better than summarizing some pop novel about cave dwellers."

Kirk laughed. "Guilty. But it sounded good, didn't it?" He pulled her to him, for a kiss, and started moving in her more rapidly.

"Yessss," she whispered. "Faster, now! Uh uh uh u h uh uh uh , faster, harder, deeper, come on you can do it, yes yes yes yes yesyessss!" she screamed, as their climaxes coincided. Meg collapsed on Kirk's chest, and rolled off him, cuddling up to him, his arm around her shoulder. They fell asleep in that position.

It was Saturday evening. Kirk had been out of the hospital for three days. He had occasionally checked in on Mary Hsu, the doctor he had impregnated, to see how she was doing. He had noted some professional disappointment because of his departure. She still wanted to discover the reason for his strange fever. 

Maybe someday he could tell her it was due to his mental powers coming out. It happened to all the males of his race between the ages of 22 and 24. For some reason, he was late, at 25.

At the moment , he was on his way to see her at her home. She wasn't expecting him, but he knew she'd be home. He had developed some ability to foresee his future with people he had established links with.

He was passing a popular bar/restaurant. He noticed a familiar mental signature, with a strong feeling of distress. He turned back and entered the barroom. It was on the dark side. He looked around for the young black woman. Her message was coming from the end of the bar, from a small knot of men. He entered her mind and took advantage of her vision. He recognized the men harassing her, and smiled to himself. This would be fun.

Calming her, and warning her of his approach, he sauntered up the group of young punks, reached in and took her hand. "Hey, Tiff. These guys keeping you company while you wait for me. Aren't they sweet?"

Rich Pieters, called Big Dick by his cohorts, brushed his hand away and confronted Kirk. "Get outta here, Reynolds. This little piece has been leading us on, 'n' we're gonna take her home."

Dick Pieters had been the bane of Kirk's existence in Middle School. Dick had been big for his age, and was a bully, preying on smaller and younger kids, terrorizing them, for money, for lunches, for fun. 

As a child, Kirk had been a trifle short for his age, and, unfortunately, tended toward being heavy for his height. Bookish, he had not been good at sports, and usually tried to talk himself out of confrontations, seeking grounds for compromise. To Dick and his gang, this smacked of sissiness, a label they quickly applied to Kirk, determining his nickname as far as they were concerned. 

The bullying continued into high school, until Kirk had his growth spurt and matched Dick in height. He had also convinced his mother to send him to a martial arts teacher who taught him the elements of self defense. 

Kirk had faced Dick down once. His self confidence and assuredness had puzzled Dick, who had decided to answer the class bell which started to ring at that moment. Since then, he had ignored Kirk, until tonight.

Kirk reached out and put his hand on Big Dick's shoulder. "Really, Big Dick," Kirk replied, emphasizing the name so it sounded like an insult. "Maybe you should meet the lady first, so you know who you've been messing with. This is Tiffany Williams, from Haiti, where she is known as a powerful voodoo priestess. It has been said that shaking her hand has resulted in men being turned to women, their dicks shrink so much. I dare you to try it."

"Bullshit!" Big Dick scoffed, looking at the young woman. " She ain't no witch. Fuck, she's hardly 30, too young..." Before his eyes, Tiffany seemed to age fifty years, then regain her youthful appearance. "Wha...what just happened?"

"You tell me, Dick, what happened? You going to shake her hand, or are you too chicken?"

There it was. The ultimate dare, and in front of his crew. Dick felt the cold sweat under his shirt. He had to reach for her hand, which she had extended, he took it gingerly. 

Suddenly she squeezed his hand hard, sending him to his knees. At the same time, there was an immense pain in his groin. It felt like something was being twisted, uprooted. "Nooooo," he cried. Tiffany released his hand and smiled at him, with a look he saw as pure evil.

He stood up and ran to the men's room, his crew in close pursuit. When he got to the single person facility, it was occupied. He banged on the door, "Hurry up in there! I gotta get in there, goddam it!" 

He looked at his crew. "You guys go make sure that cunt doesn't leave; if she's turned me..." Dick's eyes grew wide with fright. What if he was suddenly turned into a cunt. How could he control his crew. Would they all want to fuck him? Omigod, he was turning queer! "Nooooo," the wail escaped from him before he realized. 

The door to the men's room opened. A woman, looking like the cunt at the bar exited. "Everything alright?" she purred. Dick pushed past her, frightened, and closed the door. 

There was no inside lock, no hook and eye. To his dismay, the latch wouldn't catch and the door kept swinging open, so anyone who came back would discover his dark secret. He turned his back to the door and dropped his pants. He didn't wear underwear. He looked at his groin. 

There was nothing there but hair. Oh! God! He shoved his hand between his legs. Nothing! No dick, no sack! Just some moisture and a SLIT! God no, no, no, no! He sank to his knees in the dirty toilet, burying his face in his hands, sobbing. For the first time in his twenty-five years he prayed, "Please, God, no. Please." He bent over leaning on the toilet, praying. He heard someone behind him.

"Hey, Big Dick (he shuddered at the name, afraid of the irony), we were too late, she and that sissy Kirk had already gone when we got back to the bar."

"Piss on them," he said, forcing himself to his feet. He bent over to pull up his pants, and saw his prick in its usual place. Smaller, but there. Relieved, he heaved a sigh and relaxed. Relaxed too much, maybe, as he felt his bowels stir and the wet warmth spread around his new found balls while a fetid odor filled the small space.

"Sheeiit!" exclaimed the crew member called Li'l Dick, "wha'd you do, Big Dick?"

(To be continued)



Fever, 2011



So much had been happening in the world, events no one could have predicted. Sakura woke up in the middle of the night, a bit anxious, and coming back from the bathroom she heard her father moaning from the dark of his bedroom. 

She was only wearing her little babydoll nightie that hung loosely over her, the one her boyfriend bought for her that only came down to just below her bottom. The one he told her made her look so hot and sexy he wanted to fuck her every chance they could. She wasn't wearing panties either, just like he liked. She felt a little wash of horniness float through her thinking about him, his cock, how she'd sucked him the week before in the car after class. 

The nightie was so lightweight and thin it sort of tented out around her, airily swaying with her movements her so aware of her full jostling breasts which made her feel especially naked. As quietly as she could barefoot she made her way down the dimly lit hall to her father's open door to check on him, just to peek into be sure he was alright. 

Leaning into the darkness Sakura couldn't see a thing. She was worried about him with her mother off with relatives, her siblings all asleep and her the oldest at nineteen she wasn't sure what she would do if her father was sick. It was two o'clock in the morning, who could she call. Her father moaned again. 

Peering in, the room was so dark even squinting she still couldn't see a thing. Her eyes played tricks on her, a hazy optical bright spot as she strained into the darkness. 

She heard what sounded like her father's legs sliding around under the covers, him moaning softly; she thought he must be feverish, worried he'd gotten the same flu her grandparents had gotten after the terrible tsunami months earlier.

She could hear him breathing loudly from the direction of the bed, and that's when she heard him say her name. 

He was speaking very quietly, whispering really, murmuring softly "Mmmmm, Sakura, babyyy, good girl." 

Her father called her his lil baby all the time, and she admittedly loved it when he called her his good girl, feeling lighter and charmed. She wasn't sure what he was dreaming, but he was talking in his sleep and given that the flu was going around, her immediate thought was he must have a fever.

She wanted to check on him to be sure he was all right, but she didn't want to turn on the overhead light. Afraid she might trip over something, or run into the bedside table, she very quietly took that first step into the dark of her parents bedroom and tiptoed toward where she knew the bed was by memory.

She was aware of how soft the pile carpet was under her bare feet, the cool air under her nightie, her bare sex, her nipples tingling being touched almost fondled by the thin fabric she thought to herself, thinking of how her boyfriend had touched her, her breasts tingling and hot. 

Taking small pensive steps, her hands out in front of her feeling her way into her father's room she thought he was really breathing hard just as Sakura heard him whisper her name again under his breath. 

She heard him say, "Mmm, Sakura, lil baby, yessss, Daddy's ... " and then inaudible, his words infused with his shuddering breaths.

She imagined he must be sweaty hot with fever to be talking in his sleep, and dreaming of her, calling her his good girl in his sleep, he must need her. 

She softly bumped into the bed with a little "oh" and heard her father startle. The room was suddenly so quiet. 

"Daddy?" Sakura asked as softly as she could, "are you awake? Are, are you, okay?" 

There was a long pause before he answered, his voice sounding as if he'd been asleep, as if he was out of breath. 

"Sakura? Um, yes, baby. What are you doing up, baby?" 

Sakura could hear her own voice outside herself in the total darkness. 

"I got up to use the bathroom. Do you have a fever, Daddy? I came to check on you, I heard you moaning. You ... you were saying my name."

There was another long pause.

"Uhm yes, baby. Daddy has a little fever, but it's okay, baby. Go back to bed, sweetie, thank you for checking on me though, baby." 

"Can I help, Daddy?" Sakura asked a little more urgently than she intended into the darkness. Her father just a few feet away, suddenly feeling so intimate she put one knee on the bed and reached out feeling for him in the dark, to feel his forehead. 

When her fingertips touched her father's warmth, she thought he did feel a little feverish. He was sweaty. 

"Daddy, I think you have a fever. Can I help you feel better, Daddy?" she asked worried as she crawled further onto her parents bed so self-consciously naked under her nightie. She was glad it was so dark in the room. 

She felt her way to her father, in the middle of the big bed and kneeled next to him, her knee touching his side, and turned toward his voice in the dark. "Can I bring you some water, or something, Daddy?"

"That's okay, baby" her father whispered also feeling for his daughter in the dark. "Thank you for thinking of Daddy though, baby" patting her leg.

His voice was so different being right there but not being able to see him. There was something so secretive, so gentle, just the two of them whispering in the pitch dark of the room, and being in the middle of the night, just the two of them the only ones awake, her mother away, made it even more so. 

"I should stay with you, just to be sure you're okay, Papa." She didn't want to go back to her room. She wasn't sure why exactly. With her mother gone she liked spending time with her father. She felt more grown up, more his friend than his daughter. 

Sitting there with her father, her naked under her babydoll nightie, she felt practically naked just as he lifted his arm to touch her shoulder and assure her, and by accident his hand grazed the underside of her breast, both of her breasts swaying under her thin little nightie, and Sakura sucked in a breath at the electric touch. 

Her father's sudden touch made Sakura hold her breath for a second the surprise and feeling reverberating through her, her father's hand touching her there, so unexpected, on her breasts, the feeling of his touch, steamy, warm, tingling through her. 

"Are you sure, Daddy? Should we take your temperature, or something?" She did worry, her grandparents had gotten very ill, enough so her mother had gone to stay with them. 

Her father rubbed her bare thigh, his hand so warm on her skin, thanking her for being so concerned about him. 

"I love you, Daddy, I want to be sure you're okay, if there's anything I can do" she paused, "to help." Even as she said "to help" Sakura wanted to feel her father accidentally touch her breasts through her nightie again. She didn't want to go back down the hall to her room. She wanted to feel that feeling again, the one already spreading through her, that warm buttery feeling she got when she touched herself at night alone in her bed. That shivery nice tingling sensation she got when her boyfriend first kissed her. 

"I love you, too, baby" her father's voice resonating through her from the dark, "I'm okay sweetie, but if you want to lay here for a while with me you can" his hand again accidentally brushing across her full swelling hot breasts, and again, a few times, before he rested his hand on her arm as if he couldn't see her in the dark. 

Sakura reasoned he didn't know he touched her breasts, and thought, maybe if she leaned forward he'd do it again by accident not being able to see her. 

She felt her nipples tingle and harden there in the almost silent dark of the room, naked under her nightie right next to her father her rationalizing he didn't realize what he was doing, that he wouldn't touch her like that, there, not on purpose, that she'd have to lean forward, by accident too. 

She felt excited being in the total darkness of the room with him like this. The dark, not being able to see each other made her feel uninhibited, thinking how her father had accidentally touched her breasts, how he couldn't see she was naked under her nightie. He didn't know it was making her feel so sexual, that it was making her breasts tingle and ache.

"You were talking in your dream, and breathing really hard, Daddy" Sakura whispered out suddenly needing to fill that space between them laying her hand on her father's chest to see if he was sweaty there, too. She felt him react to her touch, tighten, and then relax. She was expecting to feel his pajamas, and instead her hand touched his bare chest, and Sakura felt a quivering heat between her legs. She felt the touch run through her, right up her arm into her breasts, her nipples hardening. Her warm hand on her father's broad naked chest, skin on skin, his chest rising and falling like he was out of breath. His heart was still beating fast. His chest hair between her fingers was so soft, his heat under her light touch in the total darkness felt so tender. It was so dark they couldn't see each other, so Sakura left her hand resting lightly on her father's chest; it was like a lifeline in the dark, her hand on her father's bare skin. 

Feeling his heartbeat reassured her. It made his voice closer, made her feel more connected to his presence there in the dark. Without being able to see him but hearing his whispering voice made Sakura feel special kneeling there with her father on his bed in the dark. She felt a tingling warmth between her legs, in her belly, and she wanted him more and more to accidentally touch her breasts again.

He told her he must have been dreaming in his sleep, that he must have gotten feverish after he'd gone to bed. He laid his arm on her lap, and Sakura loved the feeling of his bare skin on her bare thigh. He moved his arm as he talked, and the back of his wrist and hand again softly bumped and touched her swollen hot breasts. 

Sakura closed her eyes, her mouth hanging open, letting him. 

This time it seemed like his hand was purposefully touching just her nipples, the way the backs of his fingers so delicately touched her there. It had to be by accident, she thought. She knew her father wasn't touching her breasts on purpose. She knew he couldn't see her in the dark, either, so again she leaned forward on purpose, his hand brushing her breasts again, pushing into her soft full swollen breasts, and again each time by accident as he talked. 

The constant touching made Sakura breathe a little harder. Her eyes closed, her head slightly back and to one side, it felt so good; she knew it was wrong to let it feel so good, but it did.

"Are you okay, baby?" her father asked so gently in a soft quiet voice it made her nipples hum. 

Sakura couldn't tell him where he was touching her. She didn't want him to feel embarrassed.

"I'm, I'm okay, Daddy" her voice was so soft, and quiet, so sweet too, the back of of her father's hand touching, bumping, brushing the undersides of her large full breasts, grazing over them so softly the sensations made her lean toward him even more, his hand pushing against her round full breasts even more. 

When her father's hand and wrist moved between her breasts subtly pressing into her nightie, his wrist between them, she involuntarily felt herself move her shoulders together, her breasts together, around his wrist without really meaning to. 

Sakura realized she was reacting to the fluttery hot sensations sweeping through her from her father's accidental touches and was clenching the covers in her one hand, her finger's ever so lightly opening and closing sliding on her father's chest, feeling his warmth, his chest hair. 

"Can, can I help you, get back to sleep, Daddy?" She wasn't even sure what she meant.

Her father paused, his arm on her lap. "Maybe, you could just lay here with me for a little while, until we both go back to sleep, baby. Here, climb under the covers, baby, it's cold in the house tonight." 

Her breasts tingling Sakura felt her way back to the edge of the bed as her father lifted the covers for her. She felt the warm slipperiness between her legs, the tinging exciting thoughts of getting in bed with her father, her half naked under her thin little nightie, her bare naked underneath. 

"Do you want me to tickle your back, or something Daddy, like you do for me?" she asked as she climbed under the covers; it was so warm where she had been sitting, where her father had scooted over, where her father had been laying. 

He didn't answer for a long moment, and pulled the covers over her. 

Sakura laid down in the crook of her father's arm, his warmth delighting her. 

"You know what might help, baby" he finally answered, "is, if you'd lay on top of me, keep me warm until we fall asleep."

A ripple of excitement hummed through her. She knew something delicious was happening. She loved laying on her father after he'd awaken after his naps on the couch in front of the T.V. He'd told her so many times before how she felt weightless laying on him, and she loved how she felt like she was floating on his breaths, her arms around his broad shoulders. She felt so safe and at one with him in those moments much like this. One time she remembered laying in front of him on their sides, and how she could barely stop herself from pushing her bottom into him, barely able to even concentrate on the movie. She remembered a fleeting fantasy in her minds eye, of her father reaching around in front of her, wrapping his hand around her breasts, touching her, feeling them, pulling her back against him, her letting him, her pushing her bottom against his hardening cock. It excited her her to think she could make her father hard like she did her boyfriend. That she could arouse her handsome father that way, his own daughter. 

"Okay, Daddy" she whispered into the dark, She turned and put her hand on her father's bare chest again and then carefully in the dark swung her leg over him and straddled his waist. 

She was a little self-conscious that she wasn't wearing panties. When she first laid down on him, her sense of naughtiness though and that he was so warm, felt so nice. She rationalized because it was so dark, he wouldn't know she was naked under her thin little nightie just like he didn't know he'd been accidentally touching her breasts. Or that she'd fantasized about him, that day on the couch as she straddled his waist. Her knees tucked up under her, she relaxed into his warmth between her legs, her bare bottom touching her father's bare thighs. He was so warm under her even through his pajama shorts. 

She liked how hot her bare legs were on his, and the smooth hot feeling of her bare inner thighs touching his bare skin along his sides. She laid her head on her father's shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. He was so warm. He felt good. She sank on top of him and she felt so light.

"Nnn, Daddy, I like laying on you, Papa" she murmured into her father's chest.

Sakura loved her father's smell, and settled in on top of him as his fingers made small light circles over her back, his hands sliding up under her nightie virtually leaving Sakura almost naked on top of her father. It felt so lovely though, his fingers tickling her back, his chest so hot on her breasts she moved back and forth to get comfortable which rubbed her swollen hot nipples across her father's furry chest, and Sakura felt herself almost purr like a kitten under her father's light touches. 

When his hand tickled down her lower back he suddenly stopped for a second. He moved a little lower, until his fingers tickled down to her bare bottom, and stopped again. He drew in a breath. 

Sakura knew Daddy just realized she wasn't wearing panties, and that's why he'd stopped. She felt a little embarrassed. Flushing hot in the dark, she whispered apologetically right next to his ear, "I ... don't have panties on Daddy. That's okay, isn't it?" Admitting it, made her feel wet between her legs, realizing the seductive potential of her without panties on laying on top of her father. 

She felt him draw in a breath, and then breath out. "Yes, baby, it's okay, I was, ... I was just surprised, baby, but in a good way, that's all." 

As if nothing had happened he continued and tickled over her thighs, her kneeling, laying on him, then onto her calves, and then over her bare bottom again where his fingers moved all around so lightly it gave her shivers. 

When her father moved both hands at the same time under her bottom, at the tops of her thighs, his fingers tickling, Sakura felt a new flushing sensation; she felt her father's touches deep inside her, and her pussy began throbbing. Her skin tickled each time he traced his fingers over her soft hips, sending little electric bursts through her that felt so good. He traced along her sides, almost to her shoulders which pushed her nightie up further and made her feel it right through her breasts again without her father even touching them. 

"Nnnnnn, that feels so good, Daddy. I love it when you tickle my back." Sakura melted into her father on top of him. Listened to his heart beating, raising and lowering on his rising and falling bare warm chest. 

"Mmmm, Daddy loves you, lil baby. You're so soft and warm, you feel good to Daddy, too, baby."

Sakura smiled inside and shifted a little, suddenly feeling her father's cock hard under her, between her legs, on her bare skin; kneeling over him, sitting right on his waist, it was pulsing through his cotton pajamas. It was getting bigger. She felt it lift up. She felt it push up on its own touching between her bare legs and on her bare little pussy through Daddy's pajamas. Sakura sat up slowly in the dark on her father's legs, her bare bottom and her pussy so warm and deliciously naked under the blankets with her handsome father. 

"Daddy, does tickling my back make you .... feel good?" she smiled secretively into the dark.

"I'm, I'm sorry, baby. That happens when Daddy has a fever" they both smiled not able to see the other. This was a little game they often played, hints at something but not saying or acknowledging what really. They felt each other smiling, colluding in this very new game.

"It's Daddy's" he paused, he didn't know what to say. "It helps Daddy know when Daddy has a fever." 

Sakura almost giggled out loud at her father's answer. She didn't say anything, but let him know she liked it by sinking down on him even more. 

"It's okay, baby. Daddy got hard because you're so warm, too" he said, pushing his hips up, his cock touching full against Sakura's equally damp little pussy. 

Sakura slid back a little onto his bare legs, and reached down between her legs to feel him. She almost gasped. It was really hard now, and was pushing up under his shorts. She touched it and it jumped, bumping her fingers. "Daddy, it moved again" she whispered breathily, "and it's so, big Daddy, and hard" she breathed out, squeezing her father's cock, "... and hot, Papa." 

She continued to feel it, using all five of her fingertips around the top of it, moved her fingers to feel the rounded head, drawing her fingers up over the rib and where it tapered off. 

It was so hot, even through his thin cotton pajama shorts. She moved her fingertips down until the head touched into her palm, and then up, feeling the tip of it again, over and over. She heard and felt her father breathe in deeply, him start to stop her, then him raise his hips, push his throbbing rigid hard cock into his daughter's little hand. Sakura knew she was making her Daddy feel better, she smiled to herself. 

"It's so hard Daddy" she breathed out, "it's so, warm and soft" she whispered breathily, exciting herself, her father lying under her in the pitch darkness.

Sakura wrapped her fingers loosely around her father's erection through his pajamas, and it slid through her loose little fist as he raised his hips, his thick hard cock pushing up over her palm, sliding up over her wrist. 




Fever, 2011



"Does this make you feel better, Daddy?" Sakura teased pinching her fingertips over the tip again. "I want to make you feel better, Papa" she gushed exciting herself pulling on her father's cock. She tried to picture it in her hand in the dark. It was so thick and heavy, and hot and long. She felt it throb and pulse in her little hand, and she liked that. She liked that she could make it do that, and that her touch made her father raise his hips, made him breathe so hot and hard, pushing his big thick cock through her fingers holding him through his loose pajama shorts. 

"You like it when I do this, don't you, Daddy? It makes you feel good, doesn't it?"

"Yesss, baby" her father groaned from the dark, pausing, "it makes Daddy, feel, so much, better, baby, you have such warm soft hands." 

Sakura slid her hand up and down, pulling, squeezing, the fabric of his pajamas sliding through her little fist. "Does it help you feel better when I touch it like this, Daddy?" she breathed out hotly, leaning down to her father's cheek. 

"Yess, baby, it helps, baby" him breathing harder, almost growling "keep doing that, baby. Don't stop, sweetie. You're, ... making Daddy ... feel better." 

Sakura felt warm and buttery inside pulling on her father's hard cock. "I like, helping you feel better, Daddy."

"I know you do, baby. You're so good at it, too, baby, ... at taking care of Daddy." 

Sakura beamed into the dark, pleasing her father, however wrong it was, smiling at him invisible underneath her. 

She felt him tickle his finger up her arm, and "accidentally" touch her breast again, but this time his fingers rubbed so lightly right on her nipple it made her quiver in the dark. 

Her father's fingers tickled up over and around her shoulder, and then over her sensitive warm neck, and into her hair, pulling on it in his hand, gripping it, loosening. Sakura decided she liked the way that felt. 

It was so dark, she decided she liked it when he tickled his other hand up her other arm, and he accidentally brushed her other breast; this time though his thumb lightly rubbed over her nipple, back and forth, making Sakura shake each time, and then his fingers slid over to her other breast, too, his fingers squeezing gently, touching her through her thin loose nightie, fondling his daughter's tingling swollen tits. 

Sakura squeezed her breasts together as she pulled on her father's cock with both hands. It was so dark Daddy couldn't see, she smiled to herself, still playing their little game, and as he touched her like that, she thought it must be that her breasts were pushed out, so Daddy didn't see them and kept touching them by accident. 

When she thought that maybe he was doing it on purpose, she thought, like her, Daddy liked being in the total darkness, too. That maybe it excited him, too, that maybe she didn't know he was doing it on purpose, and that it turned him on, like she'd rubbed against his hand on purpose. He moved his hands down her arms again, sending little goosebumps all over her. He tickled her upper thighs, his fingers just lifting her nightie, and then tickled over her ankles, his fingertips touching the bottoms of her feet which felt really good, too. Her father left his hands there, pressed into the soles of her feet. Sakura liked that, it felt like she was in a saddle, and could push against her father's big hands. His touches were so soft and warm sliding on her bare skin, Sakura felt magical on Daddy's lap in the dark.  

"Do you like, helping Daddy, baby?" her father's voice a softly hissing whisper, pushing up with his hips again, and again, sliding his fat swollen cock through her fist, his fingertips pushing into the soft souls of her feet. 

Sakura sat back on her heels, straddling his upper thighs, and kept lightly moving her fist up, and down, turning her hand, and pulling on his cock with her other hand, too, her fingertips sliding up and down over the swollen head.

"I do, Daddy" she purred softly from the dark. She felt her father's pajamas getting wet. Her palm and fingertips felt damp, too. She must be making the fever go away, she thought and almost giggled. It jumped in her hand again, and this time Sakura wrapped her fingers tighter around it, cupping the head in her palm. "It really likes me touching it, Daddy. I must be making you feel better. It's, ... sweating, a lot, Papa, is that good?" she smiled.

Her father breathed out a long groan in the dark. When she moved her fingertips together over the top of it again, squeezing the head, he moaned, "Oh lil baby, that feels so good" so she kept doing that, wanting to help him feel better, wanting to help his fever go away. 

"Baby?" You know what would really help Daddy, is, if you would unbutton Daddy's pajamas. Daddy's getting very warm, and it would make Daddy feel so much better." They felt each other grinning. 

"Okay, Daddy" she whispered hotly, her little pussy dripping wet, breathily, her throat dry, whispering "I want to help, Daddy."

"I know you do, lil baby. Daddy's fever is already getting better, baby" her father beamed smiling into the dark breathing hot into his daughter's hair. "So much better, lil baby, don't stop pulling on Daddy, baby."

Sakura grinned too, and did let go of her father's raging hard cock, and with both hands touched his tummy with her fingertips until she found the top of his pajamas. 

She unbuttoned the top button in the dark, and when she opened her fathers pajamas, her father's hugely hard erection bounced out, and heavy touched against the entire underside of her wrist. 

"Mmm, lil baby, that's my good girl, that feels so much better, baby, and your hands feel so soft and warm, Sakura. You're making Daddy feel so much better, baby. You're such a good girl, helping, Daddy."

She liked it when he called her his good girl. "Oh god, Daddy, you're so hard, so hot in my hand" she whispered out at her father, "I want to make you feel better. I want to help you get better, Daddy" she gushed against her father's cheek, pulling on his cock, with both hands, jacking her his hugely hard cock in her little hands. 

"Ohh you are, baby. You're making Daddy feel so much better. You're such a good girl, Sakura, Daddy's lil baby." 

"I like being your good girl, Daddy. Does this feel good, Daddy?" she asked softly knowing the answer, pulling on her father's naked cock, pulling on the top of it with her fingertips again, while with her other hand, she wrapped her fingers around it at the bottom, squeezing, pulling. Each time she squeezed she felt him get harder, him lift his hips, his hot hard bare cock slide through her loose fist, and the more she used her fingertips to pull up on the top of it, the more slippery wet it became. 

"Am I, making it feel better, Daddy? It's so hot. It's really sweating a lot, Daddy. It's making my hands wet." Sakura loved how she was making her father slippery in her hands, just like she felt between her legs, herself rocking, pushing her pelvis forward, rubbing herself on her father's bare legs. 

"Ohhh, yesss, baby" his hips raising up into her hands, again, and again, "you're helping, Daddy, so, much, lil baby" he gushed out in a shaking whisper, "making Daddy feel so much better. You're such a good girl, helping, Daddy, feel better." 

"What else can I do, to help, Daddy?"

"Oh, baby, you really are Daddy's good girl, helping Daddy." 

Sakura smiled in the dark again. Her father was breathing hard. 

"Baby? You know what would help Daddy feel even better, baby?"

Sakura smiled in the dark, anticipating what her father would ask, her bare naked little cunny slippery hot wet. 

"If you would scoot up on Daddy just a little, and use your tummy to rub some of the fever from Daddy."

Sakura almost came. She scooted up on his lap until his cock in her hands touched her belly through her nightie. She lifted her nightie so she could help him feel better, without her panties on, rubbing him against her bare belly. 

His cock was so hot and hard and dripping pre-cum all over her hands, so hot on her it made her feel all warm inside, and she scooted a little further forward, so she was touching all of him right down to her hot aching little cunt so bare and naked under her nightie. 

"Like this, Daddy?" she purred, rubbing his erection up and down, his juices on her belly so hot and slippery, her father's hands sliding back and forth on her thighs so delicious, rocking with him, pushing as he pushed. 

"Yes, baby. That feels so good. Maybe move it around on your tummy, lil baby. Oh baby, yesss, that makes Daddy feel so much better. Your tummy and your hands are keeping Daddy so warm. Daddy can tell how warm you are, too, baby." 

"I know, Daddy, I think I may be getting a fever, too. I feel so warm inside, Daddy. You're so hot on my tummy, and I can feel it throbbing in me, too, Daddy. I think it got even bigger, it's even bigger and harder than before, and it's really sweating now. Is that good, Daddy?" Sakura teased out of breath, rubbing her father's thick hard cock all around on her belly, scooting forward more, and more, rocking her hips into the base of her father's throbbing hot cock, her shaved little cunny, her bare lips wrapping over and around the girth of her father's cock slippery in her juices and his pre-cum, rubbing herself on her father's throbbing erection in her little hands. 

"It is, baby. It's going to make Daddy's fever go away. You're doing so good, sweetie. Here baby, let Daddy feel if you're getting better, too. Mmm, yes, sweetie, you're getting better like Daddy" her father beamed in the dark, feeling his daughter's creamy slick pussy. 

"Nnnn, Daddy, I'm so slippery down there, aren't I Papa?" Sakura breathed out hotly. "Is that what it feels like when I touch you like that? I think I might be getting what you have, Papa" she smiled. "I feel so hot inside. Can you feel how wet I am?" she whispered into the dark, her father just below her.

"Mm, yes, lil baby, you are hot, baby. So slippery for Daddy, baby. Do Daddy's fingers make you feel better, too, baby?" 

She nodded in the dark. "Nnnn-hhnnn" Sakura closed her eyes, just feeling in the darkness how good her father's fingers felt on her bottom, touching along her little pussy, her father's fingers making her little pussy feel so warm and slippery wet. She wanted him to slide insider her, to touch inside her, to finger her hot little cunt. When she felt his big fingers sliding inside her she almost fell forward. She lifted her bottom a little without even meaning to, so his finger could go inside her even further. Sakura squeezed her father's erection and pulled on it really slowly as his finger pushed in and out of her quivering pink slit. 

"I think I know what would help us even more, baby. If you would scoot up even more, and sort of sit on top of Daddy, with Daddy right between your legs, and scoot back and forth with Daddy under you, baby, I think it would help us both bring down our fevers."

"You mean like this, Daddy?" Sakura kept pulling on his cock, rubbing it on her belly, scooting forward, rocking her hips, her bare bottom so hot on her father's aching balls, sliding on top of him, his cock between her legs, her slippery wet little pussy now gliding back and forth on top of her father's incestuous swollen rigid throbbing hard cock. 

"Ohh, Daddy, that, does feel good" she cooed as she slid her up and back on the length of his aching hard erection. It felt so good Sakura leaned forward, resting one hand on his chest, bucking her hips forward and back, pulling his dripping wet cock against her wet little slit. 

"Yes, baby. It'll bring down your fever too, baby. Just keep sliding on Daddy like that, baby. Nnn, good girl. Does that feel good, baby?" 

Her father moved his hands to her sensitive hips helping her slide along his cock. She pulled up on the head of his cock in her hand, rocking her hips, sliding even harder against him as he lifted his hips to her, too, their rhythm exciting her so much, her Daddy's cock sliding through her slippery creamy wetness so effortlessly, her soft little pussy wrapping around the thickness and heat of her father's swollen thick cock. 

Sakura could only nod in the dark, "Nnnn-hnn, it does, Daddy" her voice quivering. She'd closed her eyes again, sliding back and forth on her father, breathing really hard, cradling the top of his swollen hot cock, pulling it against her sensitive slit, right at the top of her pussy, over her aching little clit. 

"I'm sliding on you, Daddy. Feels, so good, Daddy. Ohhh god, Daddy. Making us feel better, Daddy. Am I helping, Daddy?" she gushed as her father touched her everywhere, his fingers around her little bottom, touching her between her legs, his fingers so slippery, she quivered and felt all buttery warm inside, so slippery she knew he must be helping her get better. 

"We must, have the fever really bad, Daddy" she breathed out. "We're, so sweaty, down there, Daddy" she mewled, panting now, rocking her hips faster and faster in a steady rhythm. 

'What else, can I do, to make you, feel better, Daddy, to make us, feel better?" she gushed in a heated frenzy.

"Baby, I think I know what else will really help make us feel better. Would you like to try, baby."

Sakura was already cumming when she felt her father's fingers lightly slide up over her hips, to her ribs, his hands going under her nighty hanging forward, tented out over her full ripe swollen hot breasts. 

She had already felt hot tingling sensations shoot right to her nipples, and her breasts swelling, and them begin to ache as she rocked back and forth, her breasts swaying and bumping under her thin little nighty. She felt Daddy's fingers make her skin tingle. She suddenly wanted him to put his hands on her breasts, not just accidentally she smiled. 

She leaned into his big hands, them first hold her just under her ribs, his hands so hot on her bare skin under her nightie. Then her father slid his hands out in front of her breasts, under her nighty, so her breasts, her nipples especially, softly, lightly scraped and bumped into the soft heat of his palms. It took her breath away. 

She felt him so lightly and slowly cup the bottom of her firm big breasts hanging into his hands, and as they bumped and pushed and swayed into his hands, as she slid up and down on him between her legs, she found that, if she concentrated on rubbing him right at the top of her pussy, his cock so slippery wet rubbing against her clit made her so hot all over; and, that when her father slowly took her breasts into his big hands, began kneading them, she began cumming all over her father's cock, all of her little hands. She gushed out a breath, her pussy gushing her creamy wetness all over her hand, all over her Daddy's cock as he played with her nipples, too. He just kept squeezing, kneading, rubbing her breasts. He was making her nipples so hard and hot they ached. She pressed into his hands, her father taking each nipple between his fingers and kneading them, pulling on them, and she felt it deep between her legs. 

"Ohhh god Daddy, that's ... making me feel so much ... better, Daddy. Don't stop, doing that, Daddy, don't stop, Papa. Making your little girl, feel so good, Papa" 

Sakura heard herself moaning in the dark, all the sensations of her and her father's bodies rubbing so warm and wet in the dark, not able to see each other, her soft little chirping sounds, mewling, purring like a kitten in heat as her father did such magical things to her breasts, as she rocked her pelvis on the hard hot throbbing thing between her legs. 

She rolled her fist around the head of his cock, twisting and turning, sliding back and forth. She fell forward into her father's hands kneading, groping, fondling her big tits, her breasts, so hot, so good, her bottom rocking pressing into his cock sliding through her slit as she rocked her hips, grinding against her father's swollen throbbing cock, his hands so sensitive to her breasts, she loved him.

"Baby, let's take your little nightie off, you're getting so warm" as she raised her arms, as her father slid her nightie over her head, her hair falling down around her, tickling her everywhere. 

He took her breasts in his hands again, and Sakura melted into them, leaned forward into Daddy's hands on her breasts holding her up. 

Her father was breathing so hard, he practically spilled out his words, "Baby? Daddy needs to put my mouth on your breasts, baby, to make you feel better." 

Sakura sighed, pleading urgently "nnnnn Daddyyyy'" his cock so wet in her hands as he relaxed his arms and he leaned her down to his mouth. 

When she felt her father's hot wet mouth suck her nipple, and then the other, Sakura thought she was going to faint. She groaned out, "Nnnn, Papa. Ohhh Daddy, feels, so good, Papa. Don't stop, Daddy. Ohhh, Daddy, nnnnn suck on me, Papa" her nipples on fire in her father's hot sucking mouth. 

Sakura felt a desperate heat in her belly that, as she rubbed the head of her Daddy's cock through the folds of her hot little cunt, as she lifted up leaning forward so he could lick and suck her nipples, she leaned forward enough that the head of her father's cock, the tip of the head slid against her hot little cunny, wanted to go inside her, sank part way into her, into that place that felt so needy, so on fire. 

When it started to go into her further, spreading her open, it felt so right, she pushed down sinking the big fat head of her father's swollen bloated hard cock into her aching dripping wet, hot little cunny. She moaned and gushed into her father's ear, "Ohhhh god, Daddy, you're, you're ... in me" she gushed out, his hot breath on the side of her face. She pushed down again, sinking onto her father's so hard rigid throbbing hot cock, slid a little more inside her, and finally, all the way down. 

"Oh fuck Daddy, oh Daddy" she kept saying over and over, the more she slid it inside her, the more it fed the hunger she felt inside her, Daddy's hands and mouth all over her breasts. 

"Mmmm, that's my good girl, yess, baby, a little at a time, good girl, take Daddy inside you lil baby, Daddy has to be all the way inside you, to take your temperature, lil baby" feeling each other smile in the dark. 

"Ohhh fuck, Papa, so, pushing, so deep inside me. Ohhh, ohhh god, Daddy" she gushed, "I'm, cumming Daddy, on you, Daddy, on your cock, Daddy, cumming on my father's cock" hardly able to believe it, hardly able to believe coming in to check on her father, that she would be impaled on him, her father balls deep in her warm little belly, her father's hot wet mouth again sucking her swollen hot nipples, pushing his swollen hard cock up into her, deeper and deeper, fucking, up into her, taking her breath away, cumming, him holding her bottom in his big hands, sucking her nipples, fucking her in the dark as she fucked her father into her soft warm little pussy, her father's cock stretching her open, pulling on his cock with her throbbing hot pussy, sliding up, and then down, working his cock deeper and deeper inside her, fucking herself on her father's thick throbbing cock, his cock pushing until it stopped in her, until it bumped into her, squeezing him, her cream all over her father's legs. 

She heard him groan into the dark, "Ohhh fuck, baby, nnnnggg Sakura, so hot baby, so wet and soft and tight around Papa's cock" as she felt his cock throb and pulse, as it swelled even bigger, as it got so, so hard, making Sakura gasp. 

Her entire body vibrated and she let out a bellowing groan, too, as she felt Daddy explode inside her, deep in her belly, "Nnnggghh, lil baby" him groaning into the dark of the room, her father pulling her so hard against him, so deep in her hungry little belly, so deep inside her in the total darkness of the bedroom, just her and her father, their little secret, everyone else still asleep. 




Fever, 2011



- Alternate Ending - 

... Straddling her father's upper thighs in the dark, Sakura excitedly, heatedly pulling on his cock, rubbing him against her warm belly, whispered "I want to help you get better, Daddy." She felt powerful, her father's groans and his hips thrusting up, pushing his cock up through her litte fists.

"What else, Daddy, what else do you want me to do, Papa, to make, you feel better?" she gushed out. "What, can I do, ... to help, Papa?" she almost came, rubbing herself on her father, her breathing loud and ragged, rocking her hips, rubbing her belly into her father's throbbing hot cock, his pre-cum sticky slippery wet dribbling out over her little hands, on her warm belly, pulling on him, against her, through her slippery wet little cunny. 

"Baby? I think I know what ... would really help, baby" her father teased back. "If you ... take Daddy's temperature ...with your mouth, baby" he breathed out, "if you, ... put your mouth on Daddy's cock, baby. Will you do that for Daddy, Sakura?" he gushed out in incestuous excitement. 

Sakura pictured her father's hot hard cock in her mouth and she felt herself quiver and practically melt onto her father. 

"Sometimes baby ...you can tell ... how feverish Daddy is" her father continued, whispering, so sexily, so hotly, his throat dry, his breathing out between his words, "and when I'll feel better, baby" he smiled, them both softly laughing together, "if you put your mouth on Daddy, and take Daddy's, ... temperature that way, Sakura, my beautiful lil baby." 

Sakura fell in love with her father's voice in the pitch dark room. "Nnn, Daddy, I can tell you, how, hot you feel with my mouth, can't I Papa? and how bad your fever is Daddy, can't I?" Sakura purred, wooing her father, feeling like she was in heat, wanting to make him feel as hot as she felt.

"Yesss, baby ... such a good girl, ... for Daddy. Put your mouth on Papa's cock. Sakura. " 

Her father's praise made Sakura feel so good, her nipples throbbed to his voice in the dark. She liked being able ... to help him. She felt herself dripping hot wet, her bottom feeling so good naked and bare rubbing on her father's legs, her shaven pink little cunny, her lips wrapped around her father's thick throbbing hot cock. 

She felt so slippery, her little hips rocking, her little pussy ached, so wet, so feverish for her father's hot hard cock. She worried she might be getting what Daddy had she smiled, her nipples aching hard, her breasts so swollen they hurt, were swelling even more. 

Sakura scooted back on her father's warm legs, and leaned down toward his cock in her little hands. 

She brought her father's thick heavy cock to her lips in the total darkness, breathed in his scent, her long black hair tickling his tummy as she turned her head so her hair would fall away from her face, so her hair wouldn't get in the way while she ... took his temperature, with her hot sucking little mouth.

She felt her father tenderly brush her hair to the side, and him slide his thigh, his knee, up between her legs, softly push his knee against her bare little pussy, and Sakura moaned. His knee felt like his cock, sliding through her, slippery wet, hot, her pussy throbbing, dripping hot wet. 

Daddy must have thought that touching her breasts was helping her a lot, too, she smiled hotly, because he reached down with both hands, and strummed her breasts with his fingertips, kneaded them in his big hands, rubbed her swollen aching breasts and nipples right through her nightie.

Sakura felt like she was going to explode. What was her father doing to her, touching, igniting? She rubbed his raging hard cock on her cheek, her mouth open, she heard herself breathing hard. 

His skin was so hot on hers, and when he left his knee and thigh for her to rub against, she blushed again, her little cunny humming, vibrating, soaking hot wet. She made his knee all slippery, too, and she couldn't help but rock on her knees, pushing on her father's raised knee, rocking on her father's leg pushing into her bare little pussy. 

She poured out "Nnnn Daddy, Papa, my, my little pussy, Papa." It felt so good, she leaned and sucked her father's bloated hard cock into her mouth. 

Her father groaned, again and again as she sucked, and sucked him further each time deeper into her hot sucking little mouth, her moaning with him, the thought of her own father's incestuous cock throbbing, beating, pulsing hard in her little mouth.

"Ohhh god, lil baby, mmmm Sakura, sweetie, fuck, so good baby, yessss, put your mouth on Daddy, baby, suck Daddy" his fingers touching through her hair. 

She loved the feel of him in her mouth, his taste, the blood coursing through him, pre-cum slipping down her throat, her father's cock pounding throbbing hard in her fists. She was doing this to him, making him this hard. Sakura moaned out load, the vibrations making her father groan, pull her head by her hair, thrust his cock deeper down his daughter's throat. 

"Oh god little baby, yes baby, let Daddy fuck your little mouth. Oh baby, Sakura, yessss."

Sakura moaned out, purred, sucking, sucking her father, sucking her father's cock. She pulled him from her mouth, slippery hot hard in her fists, hissing into the darkness, "fuck my mouth Daddy. Fuck my mouth. Yours Papa." 

He felt so hot and soft and hard all at the same time in her warm wet mouth, lavishing him with her tongue, sucking, tightening her lips around his girth, bobbing, twisting turning her hands and head, and when her father tightened his grip on her hair, it made her feel so loved and assured and safe and sexy, her father's hands in her hair, her sucking his cock, his fingers coursing through her hair. Her entire body ignited, his daughter, undulating, her father taking her hair in his fist; she wanted more, she needed it, all of it, all of him, in her mouth, needed to suck on it, needed her father to cum in her hot sucking little mouth. 

She slowed and sucked hard. She slid her mouth up and down an inch or two deeper into her mouth at a time, pushing her tongue against it, mouthing him, loving her father's hot hard cock in her hot little mouth, taking him into her throat as he raised his hips up and down; he was so wet, so hard. Sakura moaned on him, and sucked on her father even more as he fucked into her hot wet little mouth. She rocked on his knee, fucking Daddy's hugely hard throbbing cock with her mouth, Daddy's other hand sliding, groping, touching at her breasts, rubbing, touching her, his knee, her rubbing on Daddy's knee, his fingers in her hair, was all making her feel so hot inside, so good, she moaned on her Papa's cock in one continuous chorus of humming, loving, sucking breaths. 

She listened to her father's groans, his words, urging her on, and knowing her father's moans meant she was helping, she moved her mouth even more, loving Daddy in her mouth, and began moving her hands again, too, like she was before, jacking the base of Daddy's cock into her mouth and he moaned even more, telling her what a good girl she was. 

"Nnnngg lil baby, yesss, you suck Daddy so good, lil baby. Daddy's good girl, my hot lil baby, Sakura, baby yesss" and she sucked even harder, sucking her father's incestuous hot cock in the dark, her father, her lover. 

Her father's words filled the darkness of the room, the anonymity intensely intimate. 

"Oh, lil baby, yess, good girl, thats my good little girl, suck Daddy with your hot little mouth, baby" his hand wrapped in her hair, pushing her head down as he pushed up with his hips. 

Sakura pushed her tongue against her father's girth siding through her mouth and he growled, "Mmmm, lil baby, yesss, suck Daddy, fuck Daddy with your hot little mouth, baby, feels so good Sakura, my naughty little girl, Daddy's hot litte girl sucking Daddy's cock aren't you baby?" moving his hips up and down, sliding his daddy-cock deeper and deeper into his daughter's eager hungry willing mouth, Sakura humming on his cock. "Nnnnggg, lil baby, yes, so good, lil baby, such a good girl." 

Twisting and sliding her hands around her father's rigid hard slippery wet cock, sucking his cock with a passion she'd never known, something about father in her mouth made her feel so hot, so sexy, so on fire. She sucked and moaned harder and louder to her father's growls and moans of encouragement his fingers wrapped in her hair, guiding her sucking mouth, her bobbing up and down, twisting her mouth on Daddy, sucking and jacking Daddy's cock. The more she sucked on her father's meaty cock, the wetter she became, the harder she pushed against his knee, her bald little cunt dripping hot wet, her father's leg soaked in his daughter's cum. 

She hardly recognized her father's growling hot voice through the sheer darkness. "Baby, come here, turn around, Daddy needs to take your temperature, too, lil baby." 

In a near frenzy Sakura slid her father's cock from her mouth, "Nnnn, Daddy, love, sucking you, Papa" as she held onto her father's raging hard dripping wet cock in her litte hand as he turned her around over him in the dark, his head between her legs.

Sakura immediately sucked him back into her mouth back on Daddy, ... to keep taking his temperature, she moaned, smiling, her father kissing her all around her dripping little pussy, his mouth, his tongue so hot on her little pussy, so good on her little pussy. Sakura breathed out, "Ohhh, Papa" as he licked his tongue right through her pink creamy little slit, slid his tongue insider her, pushed it into his her creamy wet pink little hole, licked and sucked her juices. She must really have a fever, Sakura smiled sucking on her father, because she felt so hot down there, so wet, her pussy vibrating and throbbing and aching from her father's warm wet mouth, his tongue, getting relief only from Daddy's mouth, licking, sucking her even more. 

She was liking taking her father's temperature so much, when she felt him lick her there, his tongue licking all over between her legs, and then push inside her, she moaned and sucked even harder, wanting it to feel as good as it felt for her. 

Sakura was shaking and quivering hot, sweating, unable to hold herself up on her arms any longer. She laid on her father's belly. Her tummy felt so warm on his as he mouthed her entire little pussy. Licking, sucking, groaning into her wet little cunny. She felt weightless on her father, their bellies touching so soft and warm, her father's licks and sucking and moaning into her swollen hot little cunny spurring Sakura to suck her father's cock even harder.

She kept wanting to tell him how good his mouth felt as she realized she was rubbing her cunny on her Papa's mouth, her legs spread, her rocking her tummy just like Daddy was, pushing into his mouth, and that Daddy knew her moans meant she liked it, too. He moaned and his moan reverberated through her, his long hot tongue fucking inside her, flicking over her, humming on her swollen sensitive little clit, feeling a surge pour through her, her pussy quivered and throbbing, humming and moaning on her father's big cock, Sakura groaned cumming on her father's mouth. 

She bucked her hips, wriggled, sucked as he told her what a good girl she was, moaning into her humming little cunt "Mmm, yes lil baby, cum on Daddy's mouth." 

She humped her little pussy into her father's hot sucking mouth, and from all the sounds he was making too, Sakura knew he was loving taking her temperature too. He kept saying he loved her cream, and she sucked him hard wanting more of his cream. His hands everywhere, all over her undulating little body, him mouthing her entire bald mound. He slid his hands over her back, in her hair, pulling her hair into a pony tail and pulling, fucking his cock into her mouth. His hands holding her bottom, mouthing, sucking, licking her entire swollen little cunt. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and sucked her and licked her, deeper and deeper, growling "god, I love your little pussy, baby. Daddy loves licking your creamy wet little pussy" sucking her so gently, so voraciously, slowing and licking her so softly it made her body melt into his.

He put both his hands on the insides of her thighs, and spread her open, licking, licking, his tongue all over between her legs, until she felt another surging deep in her belly, her clit humming and vibrating under Daddy's tongue. 

The more she sucked, the more he licked her. When she cupped his balls in her warm hand, Daddy pushed a finger into her cottony soft little bottom, and began sliding another, his thumb, into her sopping wet little pussy, licking her clit, flicking it over and over and over, flicking back and forth, and then for as long, as steadily, up and down. It felt so amazing Sakura had to take her mouth off of her father's raging hard cock. 

She kept jacking him, moaning, "Ohhh, Papaaa" over and over, cumming, cumming on her father's lovely mouth, "ohhh Daddy, lick me, Papa, nnnnnn" still jacking his throbbing hot cock. 

Her father biting and licking the insides of her thighs, Sakura sucked him back into her mouth, jacking her Daddy's cock, sucking him, so hard, him bucking his hips, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, reaching up and pushing her head down, holding her by her hair with both hands on her head, fucking up into her mouth, fucking her entire hot little cunt with his mouth. Sakura had never felt so alive. 

"Make Daddy cum baby, want to, cum baby ... in your little mouth Sakura. Sucking Daddy so good lil baby. Make Papa cum" he could barely finish, sucking his daughter's cunt back into his warm wet mouth.

Sakura felt her father's cock swelling as she sucked harder and harder. She felt his cock get bigger and bigger, wanting him to cum, wanting to feel him shoot into her hot wet sucking mouth, wanting to swallow, to milk her father's cock of cum, of his incestuous hot cum, heard him from the dark behind her begin to groan as she felt her Daddy's cock throb and pulse in her fist, in her mouth, as his whole body tensed, as he groaned, as he held her, as she sucked, and sucked, as he came down her throat, fucking her mouth, as she swallowed and swallowed, sucking her Daddy, helping her Daddy get better, too, loving that she made her father cum in her mouth, swallowing all of her father's hot seed, his cock throbbing in her mouth in the dark of the room.  

Both panting, Sakura's father barely able to speak, whispered, "Come here, baby, come lay in Daddy's arms." 

His arm around her in the dark, he whispered to his daughter, his hot sexy little girl, "Mmm, lil baby, Papa loves you so much, I love you so much, lil baby. Daddy loves you, so much." 

Sakura melted in her father's arms, exhausted, leaning fatigued up to kiss him, her father's taste, his cum so creamy wet on her lips in the dark. 

"Kiss Daddy, baby."

Her father's embrace so tender and sexy, her body still humming and sweaty hot against her father's bare skin, Sakura loved the taste of herself on his parted lips, him pushing his tongue into her warm wet mouth.



Fever



Alice rapped sharply on the door, privately wishing she was anywhere but here. In general, working in Human Resources wasn't that bad of a job; she liked to think of herself as being good at solving problems in ways that made both Future Technologies and its employees happy. But sometimes you couldn't have it both ways. Times like those were filled with ugly confrontations, people shouting or weeping--or, on one memorable and terrifying occasion, hurling small objects across the room. Those were days when Alice had to be the villain. Alice hated being the villain.

For some reason, Doctor Claudia Burkitt seemed to draw those kinds of incidents to her. She seemed to enjoy them, in fact; Alice always felt like Claudia privately reveled in the tension between her and the rest of the staff in Research and Development. She never overtly showed it, though. Alice felt certain that part of the enjoyment to Claudia was the way she never did anything quite wrong enough to prove that she was being difficult on purpose. But whether it was part of some secret head game she was playing with her co-workers, or just the way that she was a spiky, arrogant--Alice vigorously censored the rest of that train of thought, knowing it wouldn't help her one bit in the coming confrontation--whatever it was, Claudia's file crossed her desk way too often, and in ways that usually led to unpleasant meetings. Alice always dreaded dealing with Claudia. She suspected the woman hated her, and was punishing her for some imagined offense by making her job difficult. And today was probably going to be the most difficult yet.

"Come in!" Alice heard brightly from inside the office. She opened the door to see Claudia sitting behind her desk with a sweet, cheerful grin on her face, dressed in a stylish floral dress. "Alice! So lovely of you to stop by," Claudia said, beaming. She gestured to a small jar on the desk. "Care for a lollipop?"

Alice almost did a double-take. It took all her professional composure not to dart back out of the office and check the nameplate to make sure she was talking to the right person. "Um, sure," she said, her brain functioning on auto-pilot as she pulled a grape sucker from the jar and unwrapped it. "Thank you." Was this like that 'Sliding Doors' movie? Had she accidentally stepped into a parallel universe where Claudia was her best friend or something?

"Please, please, sit down," Claudia said, waving towards the other chair in the office. "I got your email. You said there was something you wanted to speak to me about?"

Alice had just popped the lollipop into her mouth when Claudia asked the question. Awkwardly, she pulled it back out again. "Um, yes, Doctor Burkitt," she said. "It's about your research project." Alice chose her words carefully. No point in antagonizing Claudia on what seemed to be the happiest day of her life. "Frankly, your supervisor has been having a very difficult time getting any kind of status report out of you. You've been spending company money at a fairly alarming rate--according to our books, you've already spent the entire year's budget for your project, and it's only March."

Claudia looked contrite. Perhaps a little too contrite, Alice mused; she looked like a bad actress in an employee training film on solving disputes. "Oh, I understand completely," she said. "I do wish Frank had come to me with these issues, of course, instead of having to involve you, but now that you're here, let's go ahead and set your mind at ease."

Alice looked down at the file she'd brought, suddenly flustered. She pretended she was just sucking on her lollipop again, but she was actually scanning through Doctor Marlen's reports at a frantic pace. Finally, she took the sucker out and said, "Um...Claudia, according to Frank--um, Doctor Marlen's reports, he has tried to come to you with these issues. But you've been either sequestered in your lab--" Alice tried not to think about the number of confrontations she'd had with Claudia about her obsession with privacy, and her habit of installing additional security systems to keep her bosses from snooping-- "or doing work at an off-site facility." Which was strictly forbidden, too. "And you've been...a bit defensive in your emails to him."

"Well," Claudia said, smiling wryly, "let's just say that I haven't seen much point in explaining the details of my work to Frank. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he's a wonderful administrator, and it is nice to have a supervisor who can understand the rudimentary concepts behind the projects he's assisting with..." Alice mentally winced at every single veiled insult, while simultaneously being surprised that the insults were at least veiled this time. "...but he's a bit limited in some ways. If I were to spend my time boiling down the ideas behind my new breakthrough to the point where he could understand them, I'd never have time to actually work on it."

Which, once you stripped out the niceties of it, was the same complaint Claudia always had whenever Alice had one of these little meetings with her. 'Why should I have to justify myself to tiny little minds?' She'd never actually added the 'like yours' at the end, but Alice knew it was always implied. If that was what she thought of Frank, who had a PhD in molecular biology, what could she possibly think of Alice's MBA?

"I understand your point of view," Alice said, once again trying to placate the temperamental genius. "But unfortunately, I can't support it. You're using company money, company facilities, and company equipment, Claudia. That means that the company has the right to know, and more importantly the right to approve of what it is you're doing."

Claudia stood up abruptly. "And they will," she said, crossing over to the window. "I promise, Alice, soon enough this company will know exactly what I'm doing. And I guarantee, they will approve." Alice blushed bright red as Claudia stood silhouetted in the bright beam of afternoon sunlight coming into the room; perhaps it was the other woman's inexperience with dressing in something other than frumpy sweaters and utilitarian slacks, but she'd chosen a dress that was far too sheer for the office. The light passed through it in a way that made her look like she was wearing nothing at all over her underwear.

Alice must have coughed or something in her shock, because Claudia turned away from the window to face her. "Alice? Are you alright? You look flushed."

"Um, I..." Alice clamped her mouth around her lollipop for a moment to hide her momentary consternation. "Nothing," she said through clenched teeth. "Just swallowed funny." She looked down studiously at her notes, more than a little embarrassed on Claudia's behalf. The poor woman tried to dress nicely for this appointment, and the least Alice could do was not let her know how badly she'd failed. (Well, failed as far as propriety was concerned. There were quite a few men in the office who'd be pleasantly surprised to find out just how shapely Claudia's body was without all those dowdy clothes in the way.)

She took the sucker back out of her mouth again. Still looking down, she said, "I'm sorry, Claudia, but we can't operate on promises here. Especially not given your, um...past history with your colleagues." She blushed even harder, making her face feel hot and tingly. She'd been trying so hard not to bring up all the other incidents in Claudia's file, hoping that this miraculous stretch of calm politeness would last, but she should have known better.

"Oh, let's not discuss past history, Alice," Claudia said, patting her on the shoulder. Alice looked up sharply; she'd been so intent on not looking at Claudia that she hadn't even noticed her crossing the room. "It's so unfair, really, to put you in the middle of all this. You're just doing your job, and Frank always has to come and ask you to arbitrate our little disputes? Honestly, if he was really performing his managerial duties properly, you wouldn't even have to get involved."

Alice shifted in her chair uncomfortably, not sure whether it was Claudia's digs at Frank or her disturbingly extreme closeness making her feel awkward. Possibly both; Claudia acted as though she didn't even know what personal space was. "Part of my job is arbitrating disputes between employees and management, Claudia, especially ones that seem intractable. I'm well aware of your contributions to this company--" She broke off, mentally kicking herself. Why did she have to phrase the 'you're both valued employees' speech like that, knowing what a sore spot it was for Claudia? She braced herself for the tirade of abuse that was sure to follow.

"Why, thank you, Alice!" Claudia said, filling the sudden conversational gap. "It's always nice to feel appreciated, especially when it happens so rarely." She leaned down and gave Alice a brief hug.

Alice froze, unable to respond verbally or physically. The last time she'd mentioned 'value' to Claudia, it had caused a five-minute obscenity-filled rant about how she single-handedly saved this company with her research and got nothing but nit-picking complaints about her attitude in return. Now she got a hug?

Claudia looked down at her as she pulled away. "Alice, are you sure you're alright?" she said. "You really do look a little funny."

Alice stood up. "Um, I, um, I'm fine," she said. Her face felt far too hot, now, and she was sure she must be blushing furiously. "I just didn't expect you to take this so calmly." She wanted to smack herself the moment the words came out of her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to admit that she expected Claudia to throw a fit. But Claudia's behavior had left her so off-balance that she couldn't collect her thoughts properly.

"Well, I do feel a little sheepish about that," Claudia said, leaning back against her desk. Alice felt another rush of prickly heat against her skin; this close, under the bright light of the fluorescents combined with the sun, Alice could see straight through Claudia's dress. "I suppose I've just been frustrated, you know? It's a difficult situation, knowing you're right but not having any power to control events. I've taken it out on you, but it's really just anger over being so powerless." She took a deep breath, causing her breasts to heave upwards dramatically. Alice never realized just how well-endowed Claudia was under those bulky sweaters.

Alice knew she must be beet red by now; her whole face felt like it was boiling from forehead to chin. "I, um, I mean it's nice of you to say that," she stammered, waving her folder back and forth to fan herself, "but it doesn't really resolve--" She broke off sharply as Claudia took a cherry lollipop from the jar, unwrapped it, and slowly, sensuously ran the tip of her tongue all the way down its side.

"I'm sorry," Claudia said between licks, "you were saying?" Alice honestly didn't remember; every inch of her skin felt like it was burning now, and her head swam as she watched Claudia work her tongue over every inch of the sweet surface. It shone and gleamed wetly wherever she licked, and Alice waved her folder back and forth even harder in an effort to cool off her feverish skin.

"Saying, um, yes," she said at last. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she concentrate on anything but the way Claudia...the way Claudia uncrossed her legs, then teasingly crossed them back over each other so that Alice couldn't help but look all the way up their length to the place they met. The way Claudia's panties were so light and sheer, just like the way the dress was light and sheer, and Alice could see her dark pubic hair right through the layers of fabric. She could imagine it tangled and matted with the dampness of her arousal and it would...it would taste...

Alice shook her head sharply, blinking her burning eyes again and again. "I was saying, I...I'm sorry, I can't let you just..." Just stand there, teasing with that body and that tongue and that voice and she felt flushed and hot all over, so hot every time she looked at Claudia and Claudia was so hot every time she looked at Alice, and Alice didn't know what was going on but she had to get out of here now, before she did something foolish like kiss Claudia, tasting the cherry sweetness in her mouth and feeling those breasts press against her and oh fuck, she couldn't get it out of her head now, the fantasy making her dizzy and feverish and it was so hard to think, the room was spinning and her head was spinning and she couldn't find a way out of the thought that--

Alice stood up abruptly. "I have to go," she said in a tiny voice. She didn't dare say anything more, not with the heat of her body increasing with every pounding, throbbing beat of her heart. She clutched her folder tightly in her hands as she staggered towards the door.

Behind her, she heard Claudia's voice, thick with triumph. "Always a pleasure, Alice," she said. "Come back anytime!"

Alice slammed the door shut behind her without responding, walking as fast as she could away from Claudia's office. She somehow couldn't believe she'd managed to get away; somehow, she expected Claudia to have locked the door so she could ravish her...and Alice wasn't sure which of them would be the 'she' and which of them would be the 'her' in that sentence. Even now, her body felt like it was burning up with sexual heat, and the corridor seemed to sway in her field of vision as she tried to banish lustful visions of Claudia's tongue finding her nipples, Claudia's fingers on her clit.

Frank came around the corner, and she almost stumbled into him. "Hey," he said, catching her as she lost her balance. "How'd it go with Claudia? I expect she must have been ready to shit bricks when you told her that she had to have all her research materials on my desk Monday or else..." He trailed off, peering at her curiously. "Alice?" he asked. "Are you alright? You don't look so good."

Alice felt the heat spiking even higher, the dizziness cresting in wave after wave as her head swam with random, disjointed images of Claudia. "Oh, thank God," she whimpered, feeling her legs give out from under her. "I thought I was falling in love..."

Then she collapsed to the ground and passed out.

*****

Alice dreamed fever dreams. They blurred the edges between dream and nightmare, each dream reflecting the delirium in her waking mind and the burning, relentless heat in her body. She dreamed of being back in the office with Claudia, and the heat of her skin burning away her clothes so that she stood naked and helpless in front of the other woman. Claudia looked so deliciously cool and refreshed in her sheer dress, but when Alice touched her, she felt so sticky hot and wet and then...

Then the dream melted away into another, one where she was in bed with Claudia. But the laws of perspective seemed to warp and melt in an endless, sickening haze until either Alice had shrunk down to a tiny doll or Claudia had become a giant. She was so much smaller than Claudia, powerless next to the other woman, and she wasn't sure whether it was erotic or terrifying when Claudia grabbed her and jammed her feet-first into Claudia's cunt like a dildo. But Claudia's pussy was so hot, so hot that it felt like it smothered her with burning, aching, feverish heat...

And then it was the two of them in a sauna together, but Alice couldn't move. Claudia had bound and gagged her, Claudia's fingers had found her pussy and were teasing her relentlessly. It felt so good, so right, so sexy, but she couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't take the heat, and she tried to beg Claudia to stop but it just came out as a muffled gasp of arousal until Claudia frigged her to orgasm and she felt the wave of heat crest and she was burning up, burning up with fever and it wouldn't stop, the dreams wouldn't stop, they kept coming the way Claudia kept her coming...

Alice awoke in blessed darkness underneath cool sheets. She shivered uncontrollably despite the feverish heat, her body somehow managing to feel freezing and burning at the same time. She hugged herself underneath the bedding, realizing only then that she was naked. "Wh-where am I?" she asked, stunned at the weakness in her voice.

"In the infirmary," a woman's voice responded. "They considered moving you to a hospital, but there are already twenty-five other people down with your symptoms, and more with every passing moment. They've decided to quarantine you all for the time being." The voice sounded achingly familiar. "I technically shouldn't be here, but I decided to sneak down and take a peek at my handiwork. Just to see how you're coming along."

Alice whimpered out, "Claudia?" She tried to sit up, but the room was still spinning nauseatingly. "You...did this to me?"

"I did tell you I'd had a breakthrough," Claudia replied. "It just wasn't the one you were paying me to have." Alice could picture the other woman's face, and the smug, arrogant smile she'd have on her lips. Her soft, ruby-red lips...

"Don't...I don't understand," Alice said, her voice shaking with effort. She still felt so weak. Just thinking felt exhaustingly difficult. "How...why...?"

"Don't take this as a shock, Alice," Claudia responded, "but I'm not exactly surprised you don't understand what's going on here. Frank's got a background in RNA transcription, and even he wouldn't begin to understand the complexity of the retrovirus I engineered. You wouldn't stand a hope in hell of picking up anything other than the 'For Dummies' version."

Alice heard Claudia's chair squeaking as she moved it, and realized that Claudia must be sitting right next to her in the darkness. The understanding sparked another wave of heat up and down her body. "But if you're asking about the mundane details," Claudia continued, "the lollipop I gave you actually contained the virus, mixed into the sugar as it crystallized. When you licked it, the sugar dissolved, the virus got loose, and it penetrated the mucous membranes in your mouth to get into your bloodstream. Elegantly simple, if I do say so myself."

Alice had to admit, it was clever. Cruel, but very clever. "But...why?" she asked, her voice trembling. Not just with exhaustion this time, but with something else, something even Alice couldn't quite define. Sorrow? Shame? Alice wasn't sure; she only knew that she felt strangely, indefinably hurt at the thought of Claudia trying to kill her. "I know you don't like me, but I never thought you'd do...this."

She felt Claudia's hand gently stroke her forehead. It felt surprisingly good. "Oh, Alice," Claudia said, "I told you back at the office. I don't hate you. I hated the situation I was in. I hated that someone so self-evidently inferior--not bad, you understand, just inferior to me--had power over me. But now all that's remedied, and I can appreciate you for what you are." Claudia's hand moved down to caress Alice's cheek. "Attractive, well-organized, sexy..."

Alice tried not to feel a warm glow of pride at Claudia's description of her. "Then why...why the virus? Why did you try to..." She choked back a sob. "...kill us," she finished in a small voice.

Claudia laughed. "Kill you? Oh, it's not fatal, dear. The fever, the chills, those are just side-effects. They'll pass soon enough."

"Then what...?"

Claudia pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh, little one," she said. "Questions aren't the best use of that pretty tongue of yours." Alice felt the mattress shift, and realized that Claudia had climbed onto the bed with her. "I've got something much better for you to do with your mouth."

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly Alice felt her face surrounded by the warmth of Claudia's skin. She felt slick, warm flesh pressing against her mouth, and no sooner did she realize what it was than she began to lap at Claudia's musky slit with an aching, instant devotion. "That's right, pet," Claudia husked out, her voice shivery with lust. "Mmm, been waiting for this for three days now, ever since you left my office." Alice was stunned to hear how long she'd been out, but she didn't let it distract her from licking Claudia's pussy.




Fever



"Ohhh, that's nice," Claudia said in a sigh. "Keep that up, don't stop. This is definitely the best way to explain things...a silent, devoted audience, and a tongue on my clit. Ohhh..." Her hips rocked back and forth against Alice's face. "Now, where was I? Oh, right. The virus."

Alice wanted to reply, but her words only came out as a muffled grunt against Claudia's wet pussy. So she listened. "The virus was a retrovirus, composed solely of RNA. Nnnh, yes, right there! And, oh, and we've known for years now that....hhhh...that RNA has a number of functions within the human bohhh...bohhhh...body! And that RNA transcription is an important element of forming memories. And, of course, we, oh, oh, fingers, use fingers, pet...we know that retroviruses can insert their RNA into a host's RNA." Claudia gasped loudly as Alice's finger pressed against her clit. "Without destroying the host."

Claudia ground her pussy harder against Alice's face, smearing it with her juices. "So the virus...the virus affects the host, inserts its RNA...oh, yes, oh fuck yes..." Alice understood somehow that the other woman needed to explain her brilliance as much as she needed the sex. "The RNA, the new RNA, it's got protein codes for memory transcriptionnnngh!" She felt like she knew just what pleased Claudia, now, emotionally as well as physically, and she wanted to do both. "And so you learn what the virus 'knows', Alice, you learn to...to finger my ass, now, oh God..."

Alice couldn't help herself. As soon as she heard the words, she felt the irresistible urge and she eagerly complied. She slipped a finger into Claudia's pussy for a moment, working her tongue over it, getting it slick with saliva and Claudia's lubrication, then reached around and slid it into Claudia's tightly-clenched anus.

"Oh, yes! Fuck!" Claudia said in a strangled yell. "The virus infected you, made you understand that I'm, oh god oh fuck oh god, I'm perfect, brilliant, sexy, oh don't fucking stop, you have to obey, you want to please me, every cell of your brain knows it now and you're making me oh fuck CUM!" Her thighs squeezed tightly around Alice's face as she shuddered and bucked in uncontrollable orgasm.

After a few moments, she slid off of Alice's face. "Good girl," she whispered, and Alice felt a surge of warm pleasure at the words. "And it's contagious," she sighed out as the aftershocks of the orgasm hit, "it spreads through air and touch and body fluids. The quarantine is way too late. I'm estimating pandemic within a week."

"But what about you?" Alice whispered. She knew that Claudia hated questions, hated the way they implied a challenge to her implicit correctness in all things, but she also wanted Claudia to be safe and healthy and that worry overrode all other considerations. "Won't you get it too?"

Claudia chuckled and kissed Alice's face, tasting her own juices. "I exposed myself to it a month ago," she said. "That's why I could eat the lollipop safely, remember?" Alice nodded, her worry melting into relaxation. "The virus told me that I was beautiful, brilliant, sexy and perfect." She cuddled up to Alice, wriggling her body sensuously. "Nothing I didn't already know."

Alice couldn't help but agree.

THE END 



Fever



Ayanna:

Anger: A strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism (2013, merriam webster dictionary)

I loved him from the first moment I saw him. It seems a little freakish because when I first saw him, he was only ten years old. I was over a hundred and he was ten, but it's true. From the moment I got a glimpse of those beautiful dark brown eyes of his and that beautiful dark chocolate skin, I was fixated. I knew this was the one I wanted for myself. However, I couldn't decide if he was human or vampire. 

His mother and father I'd heard, were new to the community. They'd come up north to Chicago after the birth of their youngest because according to the gossip vine, they'd managed to rescue their child from Lilith, the mother demon of the shadows. I'd gone to check this family out, to see if they even look like warriors, and they didn't. 

The mother and father both were tall and slender, with the mother fashionably updated. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, with her hair done up in a ponytail of Shirley temple curls. Although the curls were out of date, she brought them back in with a pair of gold leafy earrings, that had a green gem nestled in the center of the leaf of each earring. She had on a matching dark green thermal cashmere sweater with a beautiful collard blouse sticking out of the top and bottom of the sweater. With this she had on a pair of stretch pants that fit her beautiful frame to a t. 

The boots she had on were definitely hot, and I recognized them because I had a pair myself. They were a black leather pair with gold buckles accentuating the sides with a thick soled heel and a nice treading at the bottom. I smiled as I knew we would get along famously. She had a serious passion for fashion like I did. 

The father looked debonair, like some ritzy guy with his nice tailored made clothing. I could tell he wasn't the sort to wear Jeans and T-Shirts, that the closest he'd come to dressing down was a dress shirt and slacks. I liked the neat way he presented himself; with his curly hair wiry all over his head, not looking messy but stylish in it's own way. His mustache was tapered and looking neat. His white dress shirt was neatly tucked into the waist band of his dress pants. 

The sleeves settled comfortably at his wrists. He wore black dress pants I'm sure had been tailor made to fit him perfectly. His slender build gave a stylish, yet poised visual of him. Their other Two children, a young girl about thirteen and a young boy about six or seven years old were trailing behind the first three. The young boy was the spitting image of his father, with eyes the same color as his mother. He was carrying a football in hand, tossing it up and watching it come back down to fall in his hand. 

He was a very cute young lad with a long and lean structure that gave him a look older than his years. Dark brown hair fell down into his eyes, keeping them away from my prying gaze. The boy's sister was almost as tall as the mother and looked as if she could have been her mother's twin; that's how much she favored her. She had a cd player in her hand and was listening to her music rather loudly. I frowned in disgust. 

I didn't like any of the music they played now a days. It was too much racket. I stopped liking music after the nineteen fifties when Jazz and Blues began to shrink in popularity. My personal favorites were Nina Simone, Peggy Lee, Dorothy Dandridge And Sammy Davis Jr. I could rattle off a lot more, but that would be an exhaustive list. 

As I watched him and his family go up to their new home, I knew that now was not the time to make my presence known. My father and I had heard all about the Wilheim clan and had even done some extensive research on them. They were not the type to approach unnoticed, unless you wanted to fight to the death. 

Although I had no problems with protecting myself, it simply made no sense to stir up trouble when a woman didn't have to, so taking one last glance at the young boy as he entered the home first, I let out a small smile, allowing my thoughts to ponder what he may look like as an adult and then swiftly but stealthy made my exit.

~~

When leaving the Gregoire's home, after my final glimpse of the one they called Tavis, which in my opinion is a strange name, I made my way back to my own home. The two bedroom home I shared with my father and had now for the past five years that we'd resided in Washington Heights, a suburban area of Chicago, was on the opposite end of town where they lived. I liked the place we lived in because it wasn't a crowded area, nor was it completely in solitude. I hated being secluded off from civilization. 

Mainly from humans since I fancied their life force. I'm not one of those vampires who fed off animals, or rodents or any other creature that wasn't human. I actually felt a connection with animals of the wild better than I did humans. After one hundred plus years, living as an immortal, I've discovered that humans were fun to play with, easy to entice, and eager to give their blood when it meant they had the chance of becoming a vampire. I had chosen to walk instead of run, because I didn't need to. I was in a great mood and my heart was filled with all sorts of emotion as I thought of my future mate. He'd been waited upon for a very long time. I smiled at the thought that my wait was finally over. I let out a little giggle and started singing very loudly, "To be loved...To be loved..." 

"How cute." I heard a voice state, interrupting my playful banter. Unfortunately for the person who'd spoken, I just happen to choose the worse neighborhood in the city, which was an area of multiple ghetto housing developments to make my presence known. I came to an abrupt stop and noticed there was a guy propped up next to a brick building by an alley way. He was nonchalantly running a knife over the palm of his left hand. His dark hair had been cut in a short style and spiked. He was wearing an earring in his bottom lip and one in the eyebrow. Since I knew that the bottom one leaked the most blood, this one was the one he'd loose first. However, before that even happened I began running my hands up and down my arms, fearfully. 

"What's a matter baby, you cold?" I heard a smooth voice fill my ear. I felt stupid. At-least that's what I told myself. If I was to put on a good performance, I needed to feign surprise, even if I'd been aware of the second guy who'd been behind me since the first one had spoken. I smelled him the moment I'd been brought out of my little sing song. My dad was always telling me that when ever I was distracted, it was completely, to a point where my surroundings did not matter, which he said that for a vampire was not good; and for a vampire who'd celebrated her seventeenth birthday for more than a hundred and twenty five times this past march, that was even worse. Especially since I didn't look a day over seventeen years. It would make me more vulnerable to these types of attacks. What could I say? When I was into something, I got completely immersed to the point of obsession. It wasn't like I was trying to, it was just that when I became intrigued, it was something consistent and on going for years, sometimes centuries. 

Anyhow, now, here I stood caught in a trap, at least that's what it appeared to be. Oh God, what's a girl to do! I thought sarcastically, Cry out for help? This was exactly what I did. "Help! help!" I shouted. Damn I was good. 

"Nobody can hear you sweet thang..." He stated as he pushed his body up against mine. I was appalled at the hard on he was sporting, which I could feel through the back of the dress I was wearing. A blue jean twill jacket had been chosen to complete the ensemble. Although it was cold enough to freeze water after less than thirty minutes of being in this weather, I always wore dresses. 

Today I was wearing a thick black dress made from a combination of wool and cotton that cinched at the hips and flared out at the bottom, which I might say looked nice on my full figure. I was a big girl, but not in flabby, fat big. I was big as in thick bones, a lot of muscle mass and built like, how shall I put it nicely? A curvaceous woman. My hips, and thighs were firm, while my butt was round, plump and succulent, and I always, always had a problem with men rubbing up against me or touching me. I couldn't figure out what made them want to be so disgusting. My dad said it's because I was beautifully made. 

However, my thickness did not create problems moving around when I needed to. 

As the guy behind me put a hand over my throat, and I felt a pointed object at my stomach, I gulped and whispered, "Mr. You don't want to do this." He gave off a sharp laugh.

"Sexy accent sweet heart, where you from?" The guy in front of me inquired as he looked at us from his position. 

I whispered, helplessly frightened, "Please...please, I'll give you what ever you want." I immediately shrank back as I felt the guy holding me tongue slide along the outside of my ear. He was a rapist too? I felt my anger beginning to stir. I could always rely on my anger when I needed it. It never failed me in times like this. I felt my adrenaline flow hard. "It's good to know that you are eager to please sweet heart." The guy by the wall stated. Tears began to run down my face as I begged for them not to hurt me. Just for measure I told them that I wouldn't speak to anyone what was happening. The guy nudged me in the hip with the sharp object he carried and whispered, " we know you wont be doing that." 

"As a matter of fact, you wont be doing much of anything after tonight, sweetheart." The other guy stated. I groaned, seeming to resign to my fate. The young guy instructed me to go behind the alley and stand on the wall, while the other guy posed as look out. I whimpered as I was thrown against the brick wall of a building and the guy forced me to spread my legs by kicking both my feet apart. 

A sharp inhalation of breath was heard as he stated, "Damn baby girl!" I rolled my eyes, waiting for him to begin the flirtatious trail with the point of the knife around the bottom of my skirt. I let out another whimper, knowing that he was eating it all up. He really was convinced that I was helpless. I waited till he pulled my skirt up before I began, to cry a final time, this time managing to sound and look desperate as he pressed my face against the surface of the building. I begged him to stop. As I did, the look out stated, "hurry up man so I can have my turn." 

"Shut up and handle your business, while I take care of mine." my attacker stated. I listened as his pants unzipped, the sound loud in my sensitive ears. I then took my turn to exit the situation as I quickly turned around and laughed. Remember how I told you guys I liked playing with humans? This is how I play. I fall into script, which at this moment was a helpless maiden and then, when unexpected, and seeming less harmless, I pounce on my victim for what I really want while they, usually the males scream helplessly, which this guy would soon enough be doing. He opened his mouth to scream, but I quickly placed my hand on his chest, silencing him, as well as bounding him to the ground that he stood on. I'd simply placed a curse on him with one touch. 

The other guy who looked off in the direction in front of him didn't notice as I came up behind him. By the time he glanced up, I'd already sank my teeth into the pulsating vein above his collar bone. As I drained him of his blood, he stood paralyzed, feeling but not being able to move. Once I was finished taking the blood I wanted, I licked his neck, releasing a healing property to seal up the bite mark. He would not be sure as to whether or not this had been reality or a dream. I sighed as I thought of being able to slowly drain his life force without making a huge mess. 

I turned from him, to the other guy and whispered, "Death be in thy shadows, death be in thy wake, I wish to hold thee close so that I may take. Thy dreams be quick, thy dreams be profound, not understanding, but being held bound." This guy would confuse reality with fiction during his sleeping hours to a point where he'd be prone to insomnia. I knew with a surety that no longer would he be raping and pillaging other women, but instead succumb to nightmares so rich, they'd keep him awake weeping. I smiled at this thought. It served him right for being able to do the things he'd done for as long as he had.

~~

The area I stayed in with my father was suburban. It was an area of the town that was quiet and held many households with one parent incomes, but those parents were making a median amount of income. You couldn't live here unless you did. The walk from down town Chicago to my side of town was a good thirty minutes. 

Full now due to the events that had taken place during my evening stroll, I walked up onto the porch and tried the knob. It twisted open. This told me that my father was indeed home tonight. I walked into our home and let out a loud sigh. Pulling the door closed, I yelled, "You won't believe this dad!" 

There was no response. I went through the house calling his name. Finally, I found him in the downstairs cellar, sitting in the dark on one of the sofas we'd put down there. "Dad?" 

"Ayanna."

"Is everything alright?" I inquired, going over to the dinner table that I knew had a candle stick holder that I was sure held at-least ten candles on it. 

"Everything's fine Ayanna. I'm just mulling over a few facts. The internet has become highly resourceful these days." He stated.

"You don't say?" 

"Yes, I do say." 

"And what's the point of this revelation?"

He sighed, "I think I found him."

Immediately, my previous discovery went to the back of my mind and the animosity that was always held back came to the forefront. I didn't need a name, just a residence. "Where?"

"I believe he's to be living under the Pseudonym Mark Gius. His place of residence is in Iowa."

"Typical of a criminal." I spat, speaking of the name change.

"However, before anything can be done, I must go to confirm that this is indeed Caduceus." 

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up at the mention of Caduceus Pontius, the Roman General who had stalked our family for decades. 

It all started with my great grandmother, Aneema. Caduceus Pontius had shown an interest in her, however, she'd been forbidden to marry outside of her race; and to Caduceus Pontius, one of the worst generals in the history of our African Continent was a huge no. It was thought that Caduceus Pontius had forgotten about her because he went back to his homeland of Rome. However, after I was born, he returned back to Africa. 

Remarkably he held the same features he'd left with. He stayed out of our hair until I turned ten and then it was during this time that he approached my mother for my hand. My mother told him no, appalled at the idea that he would even be attracted to someone as young as myself, but more so at the idea of me, her African daughter, married off to a Roman who had been stalking our family since my great grandmother was born. He left us alone that day but as I got older, I started to feel as though I was being shadowed, my every movement watched. He had the audacity to corner me on a road to the local school in the village I lived in with my family, and demand in our native tongue that I come with him. I told him no. 

At the time I was sixteen years old. I told him that I was not interested in him. He was older than I, at-least thirty. I didn't have anything against his age because girls my age often married men his age, but it was just that I was intrigued with someone else. Another boy my age, in my class. My refusal did not stop his advances. He continued to try to persuade me, meeting me on that road everyday for a year. On my seventeenth birthday, he met me on that road one last time to ask me to marry him. After my decline, his eyes began to glow a bright red, making them stand out against the short tapered cut he wore. I still remember the chills that coursed my spine that day. I was so scared that I began to tremble with fear. He grabbed me by my hips and pulled me closer to him. As if being in a dance, he twirled me around, along the road. With eyes hot as anger, he stated, "I have a lot that I can offer you. Clothing, education, a pampered life, full of rich indulgence. You can have anything you want." 

My gaze drifted away from him as for a second I was tempted. In my village, my people struggled a bit. Although we weren't far from Carthage we often times were subjective to poverty, and this is what caused that waver in my thoughts, even if it was for the briefest of seconds, but then the disgust over marrying someone like him, a roman who pillaged our village and raided our lands made me sick. I knew without doubt that should I accept, my life would be that of ownership and to expect anything less would be out of the ordinary. "No." I stated. My eyes hardened at the idea of being his slave. Everyone knew with a Roman General that the wife was in full servitude to her spouse and knowing I would not be able to last with him, I refuted adamantly. 

"Are you sure, Ayanna?" 

I could feel the anger that welled up in him, for it made me tremble with cowardice, nothing I'd admit to him. Not that I needed to. "I'm sure." I stated, my tone even and sincere.

He stared me in the eyes, as if trying to yield me, but I held my ground. My answer remaining firm in my mind. I could feel the pull of his mind to mine. I quickly whispered a prayer my grandmother had taught me. He immediately broke contact and his features filled with a deep grin, "Impressive, Ayanna." I tried to pull away from him, the effort futile. He loosened his grip on my arm and I was all to aware of my arm slipping through his hand. He cleared his throat, "It's not wise for you to reject me in this manner Ayanna."

"I don't like you, Caduceus."

"Not even if I could offer you the world?" He inquired.

I shook my head no. He let my arm go, allowing it to fall to my side. "I'll see you later little Ayanna." He stated, his gaze still burning hot in mine. I stared at him, unable to take my eyes away. He cleared his throat. "You are free to go." 

I felt the weight of his arrival leave me and everything was luminous again. I was able to break his gaze and with one last look at him, I turned and walked toward the school I was in.

~~

Eleven months later:

My parents and I breathed a sigh of relief the day that Caduceus told us he was leaving. It was the best news yet that he wouldn't be back over to our village for a long time. We were glad that he was gone, not to bother us again. It was the night before my eighteenth birthday. I was set to marry Dakarai, a man older than I well established in our community, but closer to my age at 24. His family had a home built out of straw and bamboo wood. There were four rooms in the home outside of the kitchen and the living area. While this may not mean much in this world, back in my world it was a lot. 

My family had closed up our home for the night, a two bedroom house. They'd shut the windows, closed the doors and blew out all the candles so that we could all go to bed. My mother had made me two new gowns, both colorful. One with green and yellow stripes in a pattern, the other white with pink flowers on it. This one, she'd stated was for my wedding ceremony.

We had been in bed for a while. I had dosed off to sleep, excited about tomorrow and what it would bring, when I was awakened by loud rustling in the living room. I got up and went into the living area. My eyes were wide with fear when I saw my father being attacked and my mother laying on the ground, blood pooling around her from the base of her head. Panicking, I stood there frozen, until I heard my father's body hit the left wall of the shack. I turned to run and as I did, I felt arms grab a hold of my waist. I cried no and began digging into Caduceus's skin as hard as I could. He let out a hard laugh, "Little Ayanna, I gave you a chance but you didn't take it."




Fever



"No..." I screamed, struggling to pull away. He held my body in such a rigid position, that I could not move my upper limbs, neck or face. As I fought with the best of my ability the attack on my, I felt my eye sight go blurry as something sharp and stabbing slid through the flesh on my neck. I couldn't hear what was going on behind me as I began to fade out of consciousness. 

When I awoke, my vision was blurry. As my eyesight began to return, I felt the stiffness in my limbs, as I tried to move them. My heart beat was fast and steady. I thought of the unusual quietness and that's what made me recall the events from last night. As I tried to move my legs, I suffered through an unbearable amount of pain. Looking down at my leg, I noticed that it too had been broken. 

There was blood covering my gown. I wasn't sure of the events occurring the previous night, but I knew what ever it was, it had been horrid. My thoughts turned back to my mother, as I remembered seeing her lying on the floor. Suddenly, the memories began to emerge one by one. My body began to succumb to trembles as I felt the constrictions began in my throat, making it almost difficult to breathe. 

My eyes teared up as I glanced at what was left of our home. Everything in the place had been strewn about; the decorations we had used to make our house a home. The pottery my mother had collected were broken to bits and pieces on the ground. My mother believed that every piece of pottery held a meaning and there were certain African artifacts that she considered priceless. The table we'd had in our place had been turned over, and it's contents were spewed on the floor. 

Pulling myself across the floor to where my mother lay, I felt her body, knowing that because of the rigid coldness state she was in that she was dead. I glanced down at her, feeling pain wash over me, so severe, so full, that I was numb. I understood that crying out for help would be futile. She was no longer here. Her spirit had left her body. Immediately, my heart burst forth with an intense froth of pain and I laid my head over her chest, crying until I passed out. 

~~

Iowa:

Control: to exercise restraining or directing influence over. (2013, Merriam Webster Dictionary)

Caduceus 

"Myra take my clothing to the dry cleaning. I'm expecting guests by the end of the week. I also need you to take Grant to the grooming parlor. Afterward, I need you to pick up something from the supermarket for dinner for our guests and I need you to make sure you get every item on the list, is that understood?" I glared over at my servant, Myra Tilly. Myra was the only human allowed full time in my home. Others I only accepted when I had business meetings to conduct. 

I never told Myra what my business entailed and I intend to keep it that way. There are certain facts of knowledge that masters don't share with their servants, definitely one that isn't a vampire herself. Clearing my throat, I said, "I will expect you back no later than seven thirty tonight, that gives you a good seven hours to get everything you needed done. Do I make myself clear?" I inquired, my tone sharp. No master would ever allow their servant to think that they were close to them, or even make them believe they were anything but that. At least not a master such as myself. 

Masters had their place giving orders, and servants had their place taking them. 

"Yes sir," she uttered, the fear evident in her anatomy as it shook from my demands. 

I nodded my head, giving her permission to leave my presence. I often made people tremble just being around me and a lot of times they didn't know why, but I did. Not only did I carry myself the way those native to my home land did, but I will say that I am very self assured, in control and demand nothing less than obedience from my subjects. 

As I thought of this, my heart rendered its own grief at the idea of the one woman I thought about day and night. She was my obsession, the one I have yet to tame. The anger began in my center and worked it's way ferociously through out the rest of my body as I thought of her. Her stubbornness had caused not only her demise, but her parents demise as well. As Myra left out the door to attend her duties, I made my way back to my office, where I sat down and began to reminisce over said subject; Ayanna. 

I had met her family accidentally on a trip while in Africa, attending to some business affairs of my beloved country. I loved the city that had become seized from the Phoenicians, by my beloved ancestry during the first, second and third punic wars, where it continued to hold it's sovereignty until 1985. In 1985 Rome's Prime Minister and Carthage Prime minister made a peace treaty that has remained stable to this day. During the years that I'd been sired in Rome, Rome had been a bustling economy, the center of religious worship and politicking as well. Rome in my day had undoubtedly been at it's last zenith of power before the total collapse of it's empire in 1453 by the Ottomans. 

I left Rome after that, for favor of Britain and then after that, I left Britain for favor of America. I still, however would travel to and from Carthage, exploring it's magnificent ruins. It was during one of my travels that I met a Dongo's. The Dongo's had taken their name from a natural area they'd uprooted from in Southern Africa in the the 1800's after the destruction of their Congo kingdom by the Portuguese in 1857. They were a beautiful sort of people. I noticed that they were not as the other Carthaginians with mixed heritage of Phoenician, who have blood ties to Caanan, and Africa, but they were of a warrior sort, who protected their own with a ferociousness. I loved this in them. The Dongo were such a discreet sort who stayed to themselves. They were fighters and trained their women well in manners of house keeping. The Dongo's were very prideful, full of religion, sometimes superstitious. They were full of heart and took care of one another. The first time I saw Ameena, I was enthralled by her strict obedience to her father and mother. She seemed to have a very good nature, understood her role as a woman and she seemed to be more demure than other women around her. 

It was almost as if she had been bred just to serve and this appealed to me. She never complained of the duties that her parents intrusted upon her and she never once came against them. I saw this as an attribute and I began to inquire about Ameena. 

At first, questions were answered, however, once I expressed my interest in her, Dongo father told me no. I was not pleased at his disapproval, but never the less, I elected to find a different mate. However, being as my kind are, it was very difficult to let go of that pull I had toward her. This pull seemed to be consistent not only with me, but her as well, but without her father's approval, it could not happen. 

My upbringing had me garnering the approval of the family before betrothing myself to someone. So, I waited, sure that her parents would see the admiration that I had for her and allow me to come in to her. 

I left for a trip back home for a good two weeks, settling affairs there, trying to get everything done so that I could rush back to Ameena. However, while there, I felt her detach from me. I went back to Carthage and only then was I told that she'd been given to someone else. I was so enraged that I thought of taking her. After all, it was fair, she'd approved of me and I of her, so why not. My plans were thwarted when one of her younger siblings had come to me, requesting that I meet her. 

We met on a rocky path closer to the shoreline than to her home. While speaking with her, I became so saturated with anger over the way she had just accepted her father's passing of her to another, that I almost killed her. I had grabbed her with every intention of doing so until she cried out to me. Looking at her, I was once again startled at the pure beauty she radiated. Big huge eyes, so dark they looked intensely blackened in the midnight sky, beautiful rich chocolate skin tone and a slender, yet sleek frame that had constantly warranted my attention. She begged me not to hurt her, her arms going up to shield her face. Exhaling sharply, I threw her down, watching as she stumbled over a huge rock, fell down and hurt her ankle. I did not help her up because I saw no need to. That was what she deserved. It was then I turned away from her, leaving her in that state. I didn't venture back to Carthage again until I knew she'd be deceased. 

I had no reason to linger on in my prospects of a mate since the one I wished to have was already dead, so for years, I roamed my beloved village of Capitoline in Rome. It wasn't until I ventured back into Carthage, that I found out that the Dongo clan had moved further back into the mainlands of Africa. I went out of curiosity to see the how the Dongo's were fairing, but what was done with good intent actually revived a feeling of resentment toward the prior clan leader. 

It occurred to me that since I had to suffer this long without a mate, due to her father's denial and acceptance of me because of my race, that I could just wipe them all out, but then as I was contemplating this, another idea turned over in my mind and I gathered the bright idea of befriending the daughter of Ameena's child. Ameena and her father had already passed on. Ameena during the year of her grand daughter's expectancy and her father, five years after Ameena had been given in marriage. I saw this as a new opportunity to forge a bridge, make myself more appealing to the family. On the day that I introduced myself to Ameena's daughter, under the guise of a drifter, I asked her for some water. 

This was around 1885. As I stared at her daughter, I could see much of Ameena in her. She was subservient as well and I thought she would make a fine wife one day, but as she went into the house, I heard a baby from inside and I knew that she was mated. The Dongo's took pride in mating and raising children. This was another reason I liked them, they were a family unit, not ones to go off on their own. They stuck together in everything they did and this was something commendable in my book.

A woman who was subservient and loyal was what I needed and none fascinated me more than the Dongo women. The men were in charge of their homes and the women were obedient, but I will say that the men did not exert that obedience, which to me was their weakness. A woman had her place in a man's life, in his home, in his bed and in his heart. Everything had to be in order. 

I ushered myself over to the door the woman had walked through and listened in on the child as she picked it up, nursed it and then sat it back down in it's crib. As I stared down at the brown skinned child with dark starry eyes, so much like her grandmother, I felt my breath taken away from me upon site. The desire I felt for this child to know me and understand me was overwhelming.

I wasn't a bad guy, I just demanded excellency and obedience. I thought of the fact that if this child was to grow up knowing me, then perhaps by the time she was of age, she would know me to a point where I would not have to worry about her running. It occurred to me that I could in fact mold her into precisely what I wanted, all under the guise of being a friend to her.

For ten years I tried this, from the moment the child was an infant, I would make excuses to come near her home with the parents, talking and discussing everything, from the weather to the upcoming battle within Africa itself between the north and southern areas of the country. Her father in particular took a liking to me, seeing as how I came around so often. I would help him build or tear down anything he needed. I would help him lift water from the well that had been built on their land, and I would help him do odd jobs around the house, never once having him suspect who or what I was. 

At-least that was what I assumed, until I approached her mother Candace in her own dialect about their daughter, who'd been given the name Ayanna; African for beautiful flower. It is a name that suited her well because she loved flowers. When I approached her mother and asked her about Ayanna, she stated in a low calm voice, "No. I will not sell my daughter to you."

"She will be well provided for." I stated. She glanced up at me. "It is unspeakable for a man your age to want a child as young as her. She is only ten years old and I will not give her to you."

"Not even if I offered you enough money to end the situation that you and your husband are in?"

She glared at me, her eyes cold, lacking warmth, "Don't think my mother did not tell me about you, Mr. Pontius. I am well aware of your intentions. I know what you are."

"If you know what I am, then you must know that I could just take her and never allow her to see you again." I stated, my tone menacing.

Her native tongue flew as she swore a string of words at me. One I understood as black haired devil. Slowly a smile formed on my face, a devil eh? I stared at her, my eyes gathering more anger over being denied. She stared at my face, her's just as hostile as mine, without the red tint mine took on. I could smell her fear, I could even taste and hear the change of flow in her blood, but I admired her toughness. "You're not getting my child."

"She is mine." I hissed. "Either you will allow me to have her now or when she comes of age." I demanded.

She yelled, "No! How dare you demand that I give you my daughter? She is not yours and she will never be. Your kind has done nothing but destroy my people, destroy our lands, and now you wish for me to sale my daughter to you outright? No."

"She will lack for nothing. Everything I have, I give to her. You even have my word that I will not touch her until she is of age."

"And I am explaining to you that you may not purchase my daughter, my very blood. She is too young." 

"Shall I wait till she get older?"

"No." Her head shook adamantly, "I wish for her to marry within her own people."

I had to bite my tongue. Staring at the mother, I knew I would get no where with her, so I cleared my throat and offered an apology, "I thank you for hearing me out and I will not bother you again."

Her look still looked angry. I had to give her credit for her bravery. Since I couldn't speak with her, then I knew I had to find other means necessary to obtain what was rightfully mine.

~~

As I came out of this memory and entered into another one, I was filled with a blood soaked rage, a desire to fulfill what I had once failed at. Not just once, but several attempts. I'd been shut out the first two times by the woman I wanted and then by her daughter to her offspring and then, a third time by the father who seemed to dislike me even more than the mother after learning of my talk with his wife. 

However, I'd found Ayanna undoubtedly beautiful. She was not as slender as her grand mother, but she had a quick wit, smart mouth and was even less compliant than her mother had seemed on the surface. This fueled my desire to have her even more. She was a fighter and I wanted to take that from her, I wanted to make her into my submissive partner. Men have to be in control at all times. 

I knew she could do all that any woman could do, and even more by the age of fifteen. She liked things of colors, so she was always making bands to go around her hair or putting flowers in the cottony coils that were well taken care of. As she got older, the more consumed with rage I became at the idea of being turned down. I knew she had a link to me because I didn't need to create a bond to build one. I just focused on the person I wanted and just being near that person awakened something strong. I would describe it as instinctive or spine tingling chills. The more I followed Ayanna, the more she became aware of my presence, til I no longer could hide myself. I had to reveal who I was to her, so that she would see. 

By this time, she was fifteen years old, ripe for mating and even more beautiful than I had ever anticipated her being. Her cottony hair had grown out past her shoulders now and she had twisted them into braids. She'd also placed a veil of flowers around her hair, to make them look decorative; almost as if she were a bride. The dress she wore was equally colorful. Her mother was a woman of impeccable taste. The darkest skin shone the most beautiful in bright, bold colors. 

Today, Ayanna wore a lavender and white colored dress, with her hair french braided back. I went up to her and asked her to consider having me as a spouse. Of course she denied me and the ramifications of that denial, although accidental, was something I was sure she was still paying for to this day. I knew that she and her father were still alive, because, I'm the one who'd changed them. The only one I'd intended to change but left for dead out of frustration was Ayanna. 

She and her father had changed within a matter of days. 

Most of my kind would have went back and killed them both, however, I was more interested to see how they would fair and adjust as vampires in a human world. 

I still wanted Ayanna and unless I had something to bargain her for, I would never be able to obtain her. 



Fever



"But what does the plague mean? It's life, that's all." 

-Albert Camus, "The Plague"

***

The doctor had not slept. He was beyond the point of exhaustion. Exhaustion was another state of being entirely. The secretary of defense had not slept either, not since the Senate's emergency confirmation vote, but she seemed to be holding herself together. She peered at the doctor over her glasses. "The most important thing to remember," the doctor said, "is that this is not like any other outbreak. In fact, it would be irresponsible to even call it an outbreak."

"What would you call it?" said the secretary of defense.

"An invasion."

The secretary of defense didn't blink. "So the media are right calling this the 'alien virus'?"

"Well no," said the doctor. "For starters, it's not really a virus. It's more closely related to bacteria, but it's not even that, really. It's an entirely new kind of invasive microorganism. We don't have a word for it yet."

The secretary of defense grunted. "What else?" she said.

"Excuse me?"

"You said, 'for starters.' What comes after the starters?"

"Oh. Well, it's not alien either. It's as terrestrial as you or me."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," said the doctor. "The infection started on Earth. It started with us."

***

Earlier:

Evangeline opened her eyes and saw the fly. It had settled on the edge of her eyelash as she slept and now it stared back at her with bulbous red eyes, buzzing half-heartedly. She caught it and crushed it without a second thought, and forgot about it as soon she'd wiped the stain way.

Her skin was clammy and the sheets were damp from sweat, even though it was winter and the heat was out. Am I running a fever, she thought? But no sooner was the question formed in her mind than she forgot about it. She opened the blinds and winced at the grey light. She realized she was naked and went to dress herself. By the time she had on panties and a tshirt she forgot what she was doing and never bothered to finish. 

She went to the bathroom. The fluorescent lights set her teeth on edge. She had bags under her eyes. I must be sick, she thought, but then she opened the medicine cabinet and ceased thinking about it. It's going to be a nice day, she thought. Her shaky fingers dropped the toothpaste. She paid it no mind.

***

"The infection is man-made," said the doctor.

"Which men?" said the secretary of defense. "Who made it?"

The doctor looked stunned. "We have no idea," he said. "We thought you would know."

He cleared his throat and shuffled his notes, taking a moment to recover his senses.

"Not that it matters," he said. "From what we've seen...there's no way this could have been manufactured on purpose. It must have been an accident: Some culture mixed with some unknown agent, or some experiment gone wildly wrong."

"Why couldn't it have been designed this way?"

"It would just be impossible. Its structure, its behavior..." The doctor fumbled for words. "For the human mind to even conceive something like this would drive it mad. And to then develop the method for such an idea..."

The secretary of defense made a note. The doctor could not read her handwriting. 

"This is all good to know," she said. "But I still don't understand what you mean when you said it was an invasion."

"It's the nature of the infection," said the doctor. "There are...patterns to it."

"You're beating around the bush."

The doctor shifted in his seat and sighed, and for a moment looked at the floor, unable to meet the secretary's gaze. "It's...smart. It's thinking. In fact, it's outwitting us. At this stage, I would hazard an educated guess that the infection is smarter than any person on the planet. Maybe every person on the planet."

The secretary of defense made a little noise, one that the doctor had learned to recognize over the last few days. He smiled without humor, cleaning his glasses on the sleeve of his shirt. "Yes," he said. "It does take your breath away, doesn't it?"

The secretary of defense nodded.

***

Evangeline went to make coffee, standing by the pot and watching it drip. Only when it was done did she realize that she had forgotten to put any coffee in the filter. All she had was a pot of hot water. She poured it into the sink. She wasn't really thirsty.

She cracked three eggs into a pan, then shoveled them onto a plate. She tried to cut one with a fork but realized the eggs were still raw. She'd never turned the burner on. She threw the whole mess into the trash. She wasn't really hungry either. She wanted something, though. What was it?

"I heard a fly buzz..." she mumbled to herself. 

Parvaneh bounced into the room, fully dressed and freshly scrubbed from the shower, drying her hair. She smiled at Evangeline. "You're up!" she said. "You were in bed all day yesterday. I almost called a doctor."

"I heard a fly buzz when I..." said Evangeline, staring at her roommate without really seeing her. How did the rest go?

"Eva?" said Parvaneh.

"Hm?" said Evangeline.

"I asked how you feel? You were sick."

"I'm not sick," said Evangeline. She was counting her roommate's eyelashes. She kept starting over when she lost track.

"Good," said Parvaneh. "Is there coffee?"

"I didn't want coffee," said Evangeline. "I wanted...something else."

"We're out of eggs?" said Parvaneh, sticking her head in the fridge. "I guess neither of us has gone shopping in a while. Do you think there's-"

Parvaneh swallowed the rest of her sentence as Evangeline pressed her half-naked body against her and pinned her against the refrigerator door, kissing her deep and hard. For a moment she struggled, more out of surprise than anything, but after a second of swirling confusion she leaned into it, letting everything else slip out of her mind.

***

"I hope you won't think I'm obtuse, but I'm afraid I need to ask for clarification again: What do you mean by 'thinking'?"

The doctor made a meaningless gesture. "We're dealing with something entirely new here, so these terms are necessarily imprecise. But for all intents and purposes, we should think of the infection the same way we would think of a person, even to the point of trying to predict its behavior. Because so far it seems to be good at predicting ours."

The Secretary of Defense tapped her pen against the arm of her chair again. Minutes passed. "Explain how the illness works, then."

"For the first 24 hours the patient is usually bedridden. Symptoms are similar to that of the flu. After 24 hours, the patient resumes their normal routine."

"They won't be sick anymore?"

"Oh no, they'll be at death's door," said the doctor. "But they won't realize it. It's the damnedest thing: They'll actually forget that they feel sick. And if anyone points it out, they just plain won't pay attention. They look like hell at this point, too. You should see it."

"I'd rather not."

"Mm. The point is, the infection alters the patient's behavior. Significantly. Once 24 hours are up, the infected person is...not quite themselves. I assume you realize what this all means?"

"No."

The doctor made the same ambiguous gesture. "Why would sick people get up and go to work when they barely have the strength to stand? Why would they drop their kids off at school, or go to the bank, or ride the bus when they have a fever of 104? And all without noticing? Why do any of it, what's the point?"

"Answers, please, not questions."

"They want to spread the infection!" the doctor said. He was almost smiling. "They want to maximize the chance of exposing other people to it."

"Why would anyone want to do that?"

"They don't," said the doctor. "The infection does. For lack of a better word, it makes them do it."

"So, 'for lack of a better word,' the disease is controlling the patient?"

The doctor sucked a deep breath in. "Yes. That's precisely what's going on."

***

Evangeline ran her hands down the sides of Parvaneh's body, tracing the outline of her figure. After a minute Evangeline broke the kiss off, and Parvaneh looked dazed. "Wow," she said. Evangeline went in for another kiss but Parvaneh fended her off. "Wait, wait," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Kiss me," said Evangeline.

"Eva, you have never once-"

Evangeline put her lips to the side of the other girl's neck instead, kissing, then licking, then nibbling. "Oh!" Parvaneh said. Her protests flagged. Evangeline shoved her roommate's hand down the front of her panties. "Touch me there."

Parvaneh looked wary. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Touch me" 

Evangeline's skin crawled with the detached loathing that came from a throbbing fever. She did not seem to fit in her own body, somehow. Even so, she guided Parvaneh's fingers to her clit. Parvaneh closed her eyes and smiled a little, rubbing in a circle. Evangeline encouraged her to speed up, and when she was not satisfied with the response she took Parvaneh's hand again and demonstrated, forcing her roommate to grind against her as hard as she could while Evangeline spread her legs. She was waiting for something. Her heartrate accelerated and her skin warmed. Then Parvaneh leaned in and kissed her collar bone, lips soft against Evangeline's burning skin, and Evangeline felt herself go wet. 

She moved Parvaneh's hand lower. "Touch me there." Parvaneh had a look on her face that approached reverence as she slid two fingers inside Evangeline, a satisfyingly wet sound accompanying the gesture. Evangeline purred. Parvaneh kissed her again, lightly, pushing against her, and Evangeline rocked with the motion. She pulled Parvaneh's hand up, kissing the tips of her roommate's two fingers, tasting them, and then directing Parvaneh to do the same. She watched as Parvaneh's pink tongue lapped the wetness from her own hand. Parvaneh smiled, and blushed, and then slid to her knees, fumbling with Evangeline's panties, but Evangeline pushed her away. "That's enough," she said.

Parvaneh blinked. "Huh?"

"I said that's enough," said Evangeline. She walked past Parvaneh without giving her another look. She was already thinking about something else. Thirty days hath September, April, June...

"Eva?" said Parvaneh. She was still on her knees.

Thirty days hath September...except February...

"Eva, what the fuck?"

"I said that's enough. I'm going to my room now," said Evangeline. Her voice was flat and neutral. It was February now. It wouldn't be until...

She was aware, dimly, that Parvaneh was talking to her. "You can't jerk me around like this!" She ignored it. She went to her room and locked the door. Parvaneh yelled at her from the other side for a while, but eventually stopped. Evangeline thought she heard crying. She curled up on the floor, shaking and sweating, until Parvaneh had gone, and then she got her phone, thumbing the first number. Seth picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" 

"Hi," said Evangeline.

"What do you want?" said Seth. 

"Talk," said Evangeline.

"Huh?"

"To talk, I wanted to talk. About, you know, things. Us."

"You sound weird."

"I'm not sick," she said. "Can I come over?"

Seth hesitated. "I'm not sure-"

"Please," said Evangeline. "I really need to see you." 

"Well...if it's important..." said Seth.

"I'll be there in a few minutes." 

She hung up before he could protest. Ignoring Parvaneh, Eva left the apartment. She was halfway down the stairs before she realized she was still not wearing pants and had to go back. She returned more or less fully dressed, though she discovered too late that she had no shoes on. The February fog froze her bare arms and the dirty sidewalks held hazards for her bare feet, but she didn't care..

People stared as she walked down the street. When she reached Seth's apartment she let herself in with the spare key she still had, the one he'd never asked for back. He was waiting for her, his face grave with concern. Or maybe not concern, maybe just exasperation, or boredom, or agitation. It was all the same to her. She sat on his couch, looking straight ahead. The TV was off and she saw herself reflected in the black screen. He stood behind her, obviously unsure what to do or say.

"Are you -" he started.

"I heard a fly buzz when I died," said Evangeline. 

Seth blinked. He sat next to her and touched her forehead. At this point the pressure increased in her ears, and it became difficult to hear anything. She thought she picked up the word "fever" in his speech, but that was all.

"I never liked it here," she said. "Your neighborhood, I mean. I never liked to come here. I've always felt like I would die on 16th street." 

Seth sat back, speechless. 

"Don't ask me how I know. I just know. Ever since I was a little girl, I've known."

Her vision was double. Two hapless, confused versions of Seth put their hand on her shoulder. They both mouthed the word "doctor."

"I don't need a doctor," said Evangeline. She leaned into him. Their lips touched. He tried to pull away but she didn't let him. "I don't need a doctor," she said again, sliding her hand down the front of his pants. "I only need one thing. You know what I need. Give it to me, Seth. Please."

***

"This is a lot to take in," the secretary of defense said.

"It is for us, too."

"How bad is it?"

"The outbreak? Tens of thousands of reported cases, but the unreported ones? Maybe millions. Urban areas are the worst for it. Rural areas are more secure. Asia has it worst of all. I'll be surprised if we save anyone in Japan."

"I mean, how bad is the infection? What are its long-term effects?"

"We won't know until they happen. I dare say, it's not a question of diagnosing the patients, it's a matter of guessing the infection's intent. Whatever its long-term goals-and we're convinced now that it has them-those are what the long-term effects will be."

"You have no hypotheses?"

"Plenty. But we need more time before-"

"Just tell me happens to the infected?"

The doctor managed to look even more uncomfortable. "The primary symptom after the first 24 hours, when the patient becomes active again, is an exponential increase in libidinous urges and a compulsion to engage in sexual intercourse."

The secretary of defense blinked. "You're joking."

"I wish I were. It's what the infection wants, you see."

"Why?"

The doctor looked her in the eye. "Because that's how it spread. It's sexually transmitted."

***

Evangeline's pants were off again, and with a little cajoling Seth's came off too, and then he had his cock buried half in her while her back was pressed against the wall. He hadn't really wanted to, but she made him, and now he was resigned to it. Or maybe even eager? She couldn't tell. She spread her legs wider, trying to coerce him in. His cock was swollen, as always obeying an ineffable will of its own.

"Just fuck me."

"I don't have any protection."

The significance of this comment glanced off of Evangeline's understanding. "Just fuck me," she said again. She kissed him some more, her mouth swallowing his. She was so hot inside. She wanted Seth to drain the heat out of her and into him. The rough plaster of the wall rubbed her back. She wanted it to rub her skin completely off.

"Huh?" Seth said, looking alarmed. Evangeline cringed. She had not realized she'd said that out loud. To distract him, she stuck her hands under his shirt, running her nails along his back. He gasped and responded by pushing deeper. The feel of him going in up to the base gratified her. She scratched him again, by way of encouragement. He winced, but didn't complain. The muscles in her cunt contracted around him. She focused all her energy on that feeling, clenching tighter and tighter. She wanted him to have just barely enough room to move. 

He seemed unsteady on the hardwood floor (his feet were bare), so they inched a little ways toward the door, so he could grab the frame for support. Every time he moved he moved inside of her too, and it made her twitch and moan. The heat had made her sensitive. It was like her nerves were on fire. Wrapping her legs around his, she twined her arms around his body. "Faster," she said.

"You hate it when I go fast."

"Not this time."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't. Just do it hard. I like it hard."

"No you don't!"

"I do now. Shut up." She actually covered his mouth with her hand. So he did it hard.

She was sweating already, but soon he was too. Their bodies, hot and slippery, rubbed against each other. She was getting wetter, and Seth ground his cock against the inside of her in a way that sent electric fire zinging up her nerve endings. Her body was singing a chorus of new sensations. She pulled at Seth and he actually fell over, with her underneath. He gasped an apology and asked if she was okay, but instead of answering she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for a hard, tongue-stabbing kiss. 

They rolled across each other and she came up on top, flexing her hips and pushed up and down on top of him, riding him back and forth. Even though her muscles screamed and her limbs felt ready to give way, she didn't slow. She was working herself into a frenzy, feeling his naked cock tremble and swell inside the confines of her body.

And then she stopped. Evangeline stood up, putting her tshirt back on. Seth lay on the floor, confused. "Hey?" was all he said.

"I'm going," said Evangeline.

"What? Hey, Eva-!" Seth tried to stand but his pants were tangled around his ankles, and he tripped. Evangeline stepped over him to the door and dressed in silence. She'd somehow forgotten how her clothes worked. By that time Seth was back on his feet, buttoning his fly. "What the hell is this?" he said.

"I'm going," Evangeline said again.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Seth said. He pulled his shirt on. "First you say you never want to speak to me again, then you call out of the blue and you show up looking like shit, then it's 10 minutes of sex and now you're just going again?"

"Yes," Evangeline said. 

She was at the outside door by the time he dressed and caught up. "We're not finished talking about this."

"Yes we are," Evangeline said, slamming the door in his face. She walked home in a daze. The apartment was quiet when she got back in. She sat on the floor, counting hours, days, and weeks in her head. The sun crested outside, then set. The phone rang over and over, so she took the battery out. Sometime around nine o'clock, she heard Parvaneh's door open. She tottered into the room, bleary-eyed, half-dressed, pale.

"Eva?" she said. "I don't feel so good..."

Evangeline patted the floor next to her. "Come here," she said. Parvaneh sat, shivering. Evangeline put her arms around her, cradling her, rocking her a little. "It'll be okay," she said.

"My head hurts...I can't see anything..."

"It'll be okay," Evangeline said again, stroking Parvaneh's clammy skin. "It'll be okay..."

***

The secretary of defense seemed to be keeping her distance, but the doctor assured her there was nothing to worry about. "It's completely airtight," he said. "Nothing can get through. But even if it could, the infection isn't airborn."

"That you know of," the secretary of defense said.

"If it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Most of the world would have been infected by nine o'clock this morning."

The secretary grunted and approached the observation window. On the other side, a young man was sealed up in something that looked like an iron lung. The observation room was full of tired-looking people in white coats, too exhausted to even acknowledge her. "Who is he?" she asked.

"Seth Younger," said the doctor. "The CDC picked him up for us."

"Is he sedated?"

"Oh yes. We keep them all this way."

"How many do you have?"

"About a dozen altogether. More coming in everyday. But this isn't what I wanted to show you. It's the ones in the next room you need to see." He keyed a pad on the wall and ushered her through the door when it opened. She was startled to find a quartet of Military Police in the next room, with rifles and gasmasks. "Just a precaution," the doctor assured her.




Fever



"Against escapes?"

"Oh no," the doctor said. "No real point. Even if a patient somehow got out, there's millions more like them by now. A drop in the ocean."

"Then why-?"

"Some of the staff are frightened of becoming infected. That's nearly impossible with all the precautions we have in place, but even so, the security detail has instructions to...deal with...anyone who asks them to."

Before she could react the doctor ushered the secretary into the next room. The secretary had a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She almost hesitated before heading into the dark place beyond the secure door. If the doctor noticed, he did not say anything.

***

Parvaneh slept most of the next day, and Evangeline did her best to look after her. Only when she nearly fainted did it occur to her that she should eat, and as an afterthought she made sure Parvaneh ate as well, though the girl could barely keep anything down. Finally, around sundown, Parvaneh awoke, and although her fever had not broken (if anything, it had grown worse) she seemed to think it had. Her face practically glowed with sweat and she was visibly trembling, but she showered and dressed, and when she was done she seemed to be waiting for something, although she could not say what. But Evangeline knew.

The call came around eleven. Seth's voice was faint: "Hey," he said. "I think...I think I should come over."

"Yes, you should."

"I've got some other guys with me."

"Good. Bring them."

"Is there, I mean, can you, with everyone..." It sounded mostly like gibberish when he talked, but Evangeline grasped his meaning. 

"Parvaneh is here too," she said. "Bring as many as you can."

So they came, Seth and two others. Evangeline did not recognize them, but they had the sweats. Evangeline, Parvaneh, Seth, and the two strangers all went to Evangeline's bedroom. At her indication, the men undressed. Evangeline felt the fire burning right down the center of her body. Oh God, it was time. The fever inside of her was like an engine that powered her as long as it kept burning and burning. She stretched out on the bed, naked, sweating, moaning. Her back arched and her naked, glistening breasts pushed up into one of the men (she still did not know their names) sitting over her, kneading her breasts in his hands while another squatted between her legs, with his cock penetrating her again and again. It felt so hard that she imagined it must be painful for him, a swollen, constantly rigid thing. She couldn't imagine how he dealt with it. 

How long had they been at it? It seemed like everyone had just arrived, but they must have been going for some time already, because the other stranger was lying exhausted nearby, seemingly spent for the time being. Evangeline had a vague shadow-memory of him grunting and exerting himself over here, although how long ago it had been she couldn't say. She leaned back and took his flaccid cock in one hand, lowering it to her mouth. He did not resist, although there was a look of cornered desperation on his face. She swallowed him in one go, sliding him to the back of her mouth and then applying all the pressure she could manage, milking him, swirling her hot tongue around and around. It twitched.

The room smelled like sweat. It was so hot that there were waves in the air. Outside it was freezing and the windows were limned with the fog of perspiration. There was not enough room on the bed, so Parvaneh and Seth were on the floor. Evangeline could just see them out of the corner of her eye. Seth had that look on his face, the one he used to get just for her. Parvaneh's gasping breaths were barely audible; she was moaning in a long constant warble. Seth's hands were all over her body. A memory tickled Evangeline's mind, a remembered conversation from months ago: "Are you seeing Seth behind my back?"

"Are you insane? I don't even date men."

"You used to."

"Not anymore."

"You had better not..."

What did it mean? She didn't know. Then the words were obliterated by the immediacy of the first strange man shaking and crying out as he emptied into her. It was warm on her insides, but she barely noticed. She kicked him out of the way with a bare foot and he slumped against the wall, panting, and then immediately began rubbing his cock in one hand, working to get it ready again. The second stranger was finally responding to her and he felt the full length of him in her mouth, ready to go. She popped him free and sat up, turning around and getting up on all fours, letting him take her from behind while she arched her head around, her mouth seeking the other man's cock. 

Exhaustion was a distant memory now. Their bodies were automatic, movements calculated and executed by some other force, machines of flesh and blood and sweat and sex. When Evangeline's eyes were closed she saw a red-orange color and it throbbed, throbbed like the cocks of the men on either side of her, throbbed like the feeling between her legs. It was the fire, and they were feeding it.

Another moan, another shuddering body, another spasm inside of her. She pulled him out and then climbed off the bed, falling to the floor because she couldn't stand. Seth and Parvaneh were lying side by side, wasting time in inaction, so Evangeline picked Parvenah up and transferred her to the bed, where both men converged on her despite their pained expressions. Then she rolled Seth over with her bare foot and climbed on top of him. He reached out to touch her face, the way a blind man would. She rubbed herself against his cock, working at it until it began to harden again. It was slow going, but she was dedicated.

She pinned his wrists to the floor, leaning on him with all the force she could muster. It was something he used to like, back when they were dating, though for some reason he seemed embarrassed about it and would never discuss it outside the heat of the moment. It seemed to work now, though, as he twisted underneath her in that particular way, and eventually she felt him go hard again; it wasn't his most enthusiastic display, but considering how long they'd been going it bordered on heroic. She slid down on him, fitting him inside, and then she rocked back and forth, still holding him down. The way he moved made her think of a butterfly in the killing jar, twitching and jerking but still, somehow, already resigned to what was happening even before it began. 

The two nameless men trapped Parvaneh between them, almost limp as they held her and took turns. Seth seemed to be losing steam as well, but he was still at least in good enough condition for her to finish. So she kept going, pumping up and down until her legs were ready to collapse but not willing to stop or even slow until the moment finally came...and when it did she fell back and all she could see was the hot, red-orange center of the fire inside of her, growing and spreading, a wildfire that would spread over the entire world, over everyone and everything and turn it all into spectacular, all-consuming heat. 

Dimly, she was aware of more people in the room, strange people with guns and gasmasks who were taking the others away, hauling their limp, unconscious bodies along. But even when they put hands on her she was not really paying attention to them. She'd felt the shift, deep down inside of her. It had started. When they picked her up, she let blessed sleep finally take her. She dreamed of fire.

***

Two patients were here, both young women, both sedated. The secretary of defense almost recoiled from them, but seeing the casual way the doctor approached their bedsides she chastised herself and went in for a closer look. "What's so important about them?"

"We caught them with Younger and two others. They'd locked themselves in an apartment and had been going at it for probably days. Nearly killed themselves from dehydration."

"Why locked in? I thought you said this thing wants to spread."

"It does, but that's not what was going on here. Our guess is that all five were already infected before they even showed up."

One of the women stirred in her sleep, murmuring something the secretary of defense could not hear. The secretary of defense frowned. Aquestion had formed in her mind, but she was afraid she already knew the answer: 

"Why would the infected have sex with other infected?"

The doctor wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "To reproduce" He sighed. "They're both pregnant."

The secretary of defense kneeled by young women's bedsides, watching them sleep, trying to imagine what was going on beneath the surface of their skin, and in their blood, and inside their cells. 

"The resulting children will have been infected since the moment of their conception. The microorganism was part of the very first cells that formed the embryos."

"What does it mean?"

"My theory?" He paused. "They'll constitute a completely new organism, a blend of humanity and the infection. This is what it wanted all along."

The secretary of defense rounded and almost backed the doctor into a corner. "Why haven't you terminated these pregnancies?" she said.

"There's no point. There are thousands more out there by now, Soon there'll be millions. At least if we keep these ones we can study them. And we think they're probably some of the first, which means we'll have some time, a few weeks or even a few months, to study the newborns before, well..."

"Before the rest of them are born. Before they start to populate the planet."

The doctor nodded. His face was ashen. The secretary of defense looked at the sleeping women. Her mind reeled. "This is it," she said. "This is how the world ends."

"Maybe not," the doctor said, though his voice cracked. "We don't know what it intends. Maybe we can coexist."

"Coexistence is not my field, doctor. It's like you said: I know an invasion when I see one." She looked him in the eye. "You're sweating."

"It's hot."

"Not it's not. It's quite cool, actually."

"Then why are you sweating?"

The secretary of defense started. She had not realized that she was. She touched herself; there was a warmth there, just under the surface. 

"Maybe it's the stress," she said, whispering.

"Yes," the doctor said. "Maybe."

Somewhere, a fly buzzed.