Copyright (c) 2016,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, December 19, 2016

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: apocap12.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com



story_codes: m/g (9), first, rape, incest

story_intro: In the remains of what used to be Philadelphia, a teen and his little sister go on a small expedition to scavenge for treasure from the pre-zombie era. What should be something that lasts a few hours turns into horrors that will define each one's life.


story_language: English





Apocalypse Road: Brotherly Love

Written by madvlad


	The End, when it came, made improvements. 

	As Ian approached walked toward the Department of Motor Vehicles office, he noticed a stream of people hurriedly leaving the place. Perhaps the staff was doing a remarkable job at processing forms and such. It would be a nice change but he doubted he could be so lucky. Still, it would be nice if he could get his business here done and have a few hours to goof off before reporting to his second shift job at a warehouse.

	Because of his work hours, Ian had apparently missed some weird publicity stunt at the Academy Awards where some famous people were supposedly eaten on stage. It had to be some "reality advertising" for an epic "zombies take over the world" movie coming out. If it was any good, he'd try to see it on the big screen - maybe IMAX if it was on there.

	Upon entering the DMV, Ian incredulously noticed that there were no lines. He looked around and saw official notices on the walls from the DMV. Yes, he was in the right place.

	Shrugging, he removed a folded paper from his jacket pocket. He had just bought an old Kawasaki 2000 from a friend and needed to transfer the title. He had his paperwork filled out after printing the form from the DMV site and already had his check for the title fee made out - anything to speed the process.

	Since there were several open windows at the counter to choose from, he chose one with a gray-haired woman staring at him. Upon closer inspection, her skin seemed to match her hair in color and her eyes looked kind of funny. Her name tag said her name was Alice.

	"Good morning, Alice" he said with a polite smile.

	Alice hissed something back that he couldn't understand but he nodded as if he did.

	Sliding his paperwork across the counter to her, he explained.

	"I should have everything here. The original title, the receipt of sale, the title transfer request, the new title, the property quit claim, proof of insurance, address verification form, and, of course, the check. Can't forget the money, right?"

	Ian grinned during the last part of his remark but Alice didn't seem very amused as she stared at him. Then she looked down at the papers in front of her. Behind her, a rotund guy with a bad comb-over and the same unhealthy pallor to his skin lurched by. Really, these people needed to get some sun.

	When Alice started to reach for him, she knocked over a self-inking stamp with the DMV seal and current date. Trying to be helpful, Ian retrieved it as it clattered toward him and handed it to her. Grabbing his hand, she bit his arm but his leather jacket kept the teeth from penetrating. In his surprise, Ian dropped the stamp. He mumbled an apology - these bureaucratic types were very protective about their official stamps.

	Alice looked at the thing as it fell onto the counter. With a moan of faint recognition, she picked it up and hammered at Ian's paperwork, crumpling much of it as it was haphazardly but officially stamped. Then she dropped it as the few coherent memories from her formerly living existence continued to dissipate. Staggering away from the counter, she wandered down the hall where some of her other co-workers were trying to get into an office where some living people had barricaded themselves.

	Ian stood at the abandoned counter in puzzlement. Finding the crumpled and ink-smeared title to his bike in the tattered pile, he tucked it into his pocket and walked out. However odd it had been, this was by far the quickest and friendliest service he had ever received from the Department of Motor Vehicles. Humming a happy tune, he looked forward to a fine day.

	
Ten Years Later

	Mira awoke aboard the cruiser USS Ticonderoga. Not for the first time, she wondered how rich the world must have been before The End if they could have taken such a huge steel vessel like this and decided to simply scrap it. But The End had begun a year before she was born so all she had were fantastical tales of the old world but this ship reminded her that there was some truth to those stories.

	Three other twins to the Ticonderoga were similarly berthed in this shipyard along with other smaller old warships and some larger ones whose purpose no one was quite sure of anymore. But they didn't have the sleek lines of Mira's home.

	Breakfast was being cooked over an old oil drum on the ship's fantail. As usual, it was a scrounger's stew - something mixed from various foodstuffs that the residents of the ship had gathered. There were similar communities aboard many of the other ships here but Mira was proud of her vessel.

	Of course, it wasn't the largest old warship on the Delaware River. That honor belonged to the massive leviathan moored off the far shore, a ship that carried the same name as the enemy territory, New Jersey. The ship was a massive beast and every few months there were rumors that the people there had figured out how to fire the cannons. But the ponderous guns never moved from their positions pointing forward and aft.

	Even on a sunny day, the battleship New Jersey couldn't be seen from here as it was around the bend of the river to the northeast. Today was foggy, so much that Mira couldn't even see the coast of New Jersey across the river as the mist hung like a shroud over the eastern half of the river.

	"I heard that the Jersey tower of the Walt Whitman is socked in tight," a teenage boy said from behind her. "Are you up for a bridge hop?"

	Mira turned and grinned at her brother, Brian. He was fourteen, old enough to have some memories of life before The End. He was also her only family left. Their father had died in a skirmish between patrol craft from the Philadelphia and Camden militias. Sometime later, their mother had simply left during the night.

	After hurrying to get her scrounging gear, Mira returned on deck. She had only been wearing a t-shirt and black leggings and now she wrestled on a fraying pair of denim shorts. Not for the first time of late, Brian found himself staring at his sister's pert little buns through the stretchy material. She wasn't wearing any panties and didn't see the need since she had her leggings. Such was post-End fashion among some.

	It also allowed Brian to see the curves of his sister's rear in full definition. As she pulled the shorts up her legs, Mira wriggled, unintentionally making her adorable rump shift provocatively before she started slowly turning as she wrestled the cut-off jeans into place. She was nearly facing him before the shorts covered her crotch. Still Brian could see the petite swell of the girl's mound with the stretchy material making a slight indentation where her cleft was.

	Brian blinked and turned away, furtively checking to see if anyone had noticed him gawking. What the hell was wrong with him - ogling his kid sister like that?

	"Okay, I'm ready!"

	Mira had just finished wrapping the extra cloth around her knees so they wouldn't get skinned as she crawled about. Beneath the stretched black fabric of her leggings, Mira's legs were thin but had slight, long arcs of muscle along her thighs from years of climbing about in old buildings and wrecked vehicles. Brian managed to give her a smile before leading down to a horse trolley that would take them to the Walt Whitman Bridge.

	Within two years after the dead rose, Philadelphia and Camden had become relatively secure zones for the living along their waterfronts. Brian knew that the walkers had been cleared and fenced out as far west as past Independence Mall and slow gains further were made each year. In another couple of years, he could join the militia and help with that or guard the waterfront. He hoped he could fight the Z's but knew that bridge duty was one of the choice assignments.

	For reasons he didn't know, the two cities had also become enemies in the early years as they wrestled for salvaging rights along the Ben Franklin and Walt Whitman bridges that spanned the river between them. The Commodore Barry Bridge, further to the south, had lost its middle portion when a fuel tanker exploded in the early months of The End.

	The two remaining bridges had been quarantined during the initial zombie flare-up after several accidents had left supply convoys and survivalist groups trapped and left to fight it out with the growing ranks of the walking dead. Today, armed guards from each city watched the bridge and shot at anyone who encroached into the no-man's land from the other side.

	Still, the bridges were tempting targets and on a day like today, Brian could bribe the guards to get onto the bridge. They would give him a pass so he could return without getting shot. The guards on duty then would also get a few things from his haul, but that was how business was done.

	No one knew if there were any walkers still left among the wreckage. If there was no one left alive on there, how would the zombies eat to survive? But if they were already dead, were they even surviving?

	Brian found such a conundrum easier to consider than watching Mira's bottom as she crawled in front of him while weaving between and under rusting cars and trucks. Even on the bridge now, Brian couldn't see the Jersey tower through the foggy shroud but it still made sense to keep a low profile in case someone with a quick trigger caught a glimpse of movement. Keeping a crowbar at the ready in one hand, he found it harder to keep up with Mira since she could squeeze more easily through the narrow gaps than he could anymore.

	It was a happy problem for him as his shoulders were broadening with age. That would serve him well in the militia. Maybe he could finally get a small apartment or something for him and Mira. Privacy would be nice although he would have to be careful. What if he walked in on her while she was completely undressed? Maybe by then, she'd start growing little breasts.

	As Mira turned in front of him, he tried to imagine how those sweet young buds would look on her currently flat chest. His brief flash of fantasy obscured his attention long enough to keep from noticing the thing that fell on him.

	Startled, Brian had the sense of something moving on top of him. A second after hearing Mira's shrill scream, he heard the rasping moan of a zombie. Shit! It was grabbing at his arm while Brian tried to wrestle away from it. There wasn't enough room to swing the crow bar and Brian suddenly found himself looking up at the gray face with the gaping, bloody maw. Stabbing with the flat end of the crowbar, he shoved it into the things mouth.

	He felt the crunching more than he heard it - the crackling of rotting bone giving way before the crowbar crunched into the diseased slug of the zombie's brain. The thing ceased moving and slumped on top of him. Shuddering, Brian slid out from beneath the thing and stared at the horrid face with the teeth dripping fresh blood.

	Fresh blood.

	Brian looked at the wound on his arm.

	His blood.

	Only now did he become aware of Mira calling to him. Mira with that sweet ass and cute cunny bulge beneath those leggings. He'd never live to see her body bloom - the fiery coldness that was spreading through his veins told him so. Would it matter if he had her now? Just one fuck before dying. And feeding.

	Oh, he wanted her in both ways.

	"B-Brian?"

	Brian turned and saw her looking at him, horrorstruck. Yes, he must be turning already. He could feel it and he probably showed it with his skin blanching and his eyes reddening. Yet he still had mortal speed - enough of it as he suddenly sprang at Mira.

	She screamed and turned to crawl away but he caught her ankle. Yes, he could smell her...the meat...the feast...her fresh little cunt.

	Yes, fuck then feed.

	No, not my sister.

	The living Brian fought back against the overwhelming tide of basic, feral need.

	Fuck. Feed.

	The new creature rose in the teen's fading mind. A true creature of this era.

	Fuck.

	A graying hand caught Mira by the waist of her shorts.

	Feed?

	Fuck.

	The girl struggled beneath him but her movements were fettered as her shorts were pulled down.

	Fuck.

	Mira wept as her leggings were yanked to her knees and awaited her fatal bite. A hand came down on her head, driving her face down onto the metal grating of the bridge. She could feel her forehead bleeding while her bared bottom remained up in the air. In her fear, she didn't register any embarrassment.

	His tongue bloating in his mouth, the Brian thing eyed the snug little purse of two smooth, pale labia pressed together as they appeared beneath her luscious young bottom. His erection was hot; still alive, and he craved to quench his need with it.

	With awkward movements, he pressed the head against the slowly surrendering lips of the child's twat. A hairless ring of flesh engulfed the glans as it pressed forward. As a savage grunt escaped Brian's mouth, he slammed forward. There was a moment of stillness and then the thin, living flesh gave way.

	With his teen cock tearing inward, Brian deflowered his little sister. Her shrieks echoed among the wreckage but he did not notice in any meaningful way as he bored into the bloody depths of Mira's prepubescent snatch.

	Tiny pussy, so sweet and tight for him. That bit of sundered innocence now made her slick and ready to be taken fully.

	The nine year-old's virgin channel squeezed at the ravaging intruder but could do nothing as Mira's body was invaded in a series of heavy thrusts. With choking sobs, Mira helplessly took her brother's prick as it stretched her unready quim and made her a woman before her time. She felt herself bleeding in there and felt more of it trickling out of her wounded entrance and starting to stain the insides of her thighs.

	Pummeling the preteen's sultry little twat, the thing that had just recently been her brother felt another biological reaction building inside of him despite his metamorphosis. Saliva drooled from his open mouth as he shot a surging flood of sperm into his baby sister's womb.

	Mira felt the new intrusion and feared it was more blood. Had something else broken inside of her? Was this how she was going to be changed - with this terrible act instead of a bite? Her brother ceased his movements...and then began again.

	Like a lifeline, the child's hot, grasping cunt would not let the erection die out. The owner of the hardness followed his primal need and began to rape the ripe young sweetmeat again.

	Fuck and feed, Fuck, fuck, fuck...then feed.

	The pain in her violated sex became a steady throb in time with the cock strokes ravaging her snug hole. Dully, Mira could hear the thick gurgling of rape fluids as they escaped her tiny cunt and foully coated her bald vulva before joining the crimson trickling down her legs. Another load of semen filled her baby chamber with an incestuously mixed batter and the cruel ramming quickly resumed.

	When she gripped a the rough grating, it hurt her fingers and seemed to counter, ever so slightly, the burning and pounding her tender young snatch. Some of Mira's tears fell through and joined the indifferent flow of the river below while the ghastly creature that had been her brother raped her again before violating her body with another hot load of jism that filled her once-innocent pussy.

	So good.

	He was sated.

	But hungry.

	Feed now.

	Fuck?

	Fuck and feed,

	Feed now?

	The little female was hardly moving. The creature liked her warm for fucking. But she'd also be so warm in his mouth and filling. But she'd never be enough.

	Fuck. Then feed.

	The creature warred with itself and looked up at the strengthening light while the wind pushed some of the fog away for a moment.

	Sister.

	The dying presence of Brian rose briefly from the murky depths of the undead mind to make the decision.

	With the stunned child watching, the newly dead crawled onto the hood of a sedan and stood upright. Brian only felt the impact of the two bullets in his torso as they were fired from the suddenly cleared jersey tower but he felt no pain after they went into him. When a third bullet burst into his head, he felt nothing at all.

	Russell was the lead on this guard shift and motioned for his men to bring their rifles up as he heard something approach. A light came on and found the slim figure of a ragged looking kid who held a distinctive metallic pass up in one hand. Gesturing with his rifle, Russell motioned her forward.

	When she was let through the gate, she stood still while each of the four guards selected something from her backpack as a bribe. The kid had made a good haul and Brian selected a manual can opener for his prize.

	As he took the pass from the girl, he looked at her. It was odd for one this young to be out solo and he thought he had heard that two kids had gone out on the bridge today. Some assholes from the Jersey tower had done some shooting when the fog had cleared for a moment but they were probably just warning shots to let people know they were still there.

	"Hey, kid," Russell said as she started to leave. "Were you out there by yourself?"

	Mira turned and looked at the man, silent for a moment before she answered.

	"Yeah, I'm all alone."




madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm





















This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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