"I'm heading off to work! See you later, honey!"
Sarah giggled at her girlfriend. "Bye, hon! I'll have a special surprise waiting for you when you get back!"
She blew a kiss at the departing brunette, clad in pencil skirt and suit jacket, off to a busy day at the office. Today was their anniversary, and true to her word, Sarah had something planned for Hannah's return. Hannah would be back at around 6:00 PM, and it was 8:00 AM right now, so she had plenty of time to get ready. She'd start at 5:00 and be done by 5:30.
Sarah spent all the rest of the day on the couch, watching TV. She was supposed to be looking for a new job, but she wasn't trying very hard. She hadn't had a job since she got fired from 7/11 a few months back. Hannah said that she earned more than enough to keep both of them fed and housed, and she hated her old job anyway, so it wasn't all bad. Hannah didn't mind paying for her beloved girlfriend, and in turn, Sarah didn't mind being a bit of a stay-at-home wife. They say that opposites attract, and at least in this case, that was true; nothing could have been more different than the two women's work ethic. Sarah just felt lucky she was good looking enough to have someone who'd put up with her slobbish behavior.
There was nothing good on TV, but that wasn't ever the point of watching TV. The programming was forgettable dull-as-rocks rerun trite. One of the channels had some kind of cake baking show on it. She half considered baking a cake for her and Hannah to share, once she got back, but she wasn't any good at cooking. No - despite it being abundantly clear who "the man" was in the relationship, Sarah had just never bothered to get very good at making anything more complicated than instant Mac and Cheese, or on very special occasions, cake from pre-mixed cake powder, out of a box. But she didn't have any cake mix lying around right now, and she didn't feel like walking to the store to get some.
She decided to flip over to the news while she was having her lunch - buttered toast.
The whole zombie apocalypse thing had been exciting front page news when it had started, but over time, it was easy to get used to it as "the new normal", and gradually, the novelty faded. Now it was just another news story among others. Important, for sure, but there was only so much of a news story one could possibly take before becoming sick of it. According to the reporter on the screen, there had been some kind of outbreak behind the defensive lines, and several areas were compromised. This happened every other week, so who gave a damn? The news correspondent finished by reiterating that the government was fully in control, and that interim President Harris - who had taken over after the death of the former President - was doing everything she could to prevent further casualties.
Sarah was only half-listening. It was good to be informed, she thought. Something was going on in the world. She was up to date on current events. This was all very, very boring, though - so she changed the channel to some TV drama, the kind they make too many damn episodes of. Some stupid thing set in a hospital, where every week some huge twist would play out where one of the characters was pregnant, or cheating on their girlfriend, or broke up with their girlfriend for cheating on them, or was pregnant with someone else's child, leading them to break up with... well, you get the picture. Thanks to production difficulties arising from the ongoing apocalypse, the quality had noticeably declined, with the writing seeming even more rushed and off-the-cuff than before, and the acting becoming even worse. Production mistakes were simply left in, cuts were a lot cruder and worse-timed, and they mostly spent the runtime talking on a single set. The desperation was clear, and resources were obviously stretched paper-thin - but the show must go on.
Watching the hackneyed scenes play out, her mind began to wander. She thought about the news broadcast she had seen earlier: The zombies, green-skinned and half-nude - many totally naked - shuffling down the streets and alleys, assimilating all in their way. The fact that they had been shown to be practically immortal, being merely stunned by even powerful automatic weaponry, only truly dying to an utterly catastrophic injury, on the level of being blown to shreds. Even a bullet in the head was of little consequence. After only a few hours passed, a "dead" zombie would regenerate its wounds, and go right back to whatever it was doing before, not even a little bit stupider than it was before. Not that they were ever particularly smart, but having a hole shot through their brain didn't seem to affect that one bit. Though the government had nothing but optimism, truth be told, the zombie horde only advanced on formerly "safe" territories more and more by the day. Perhaps before long, they'd be
here.
Sarah paused. The idea didn't scare her as much as she thought it might. Shouldn't it scare her? Well, maybe if the zombies were the type you'd see in movies, where they tore you apart and ate your brains. But the outbreak she was caught up in the midst of was a sex zombie apocalypse. If they got you, you'd become one of them, and you'd be cursed to a lifetime of mindless lesbian sex. It didn't seem like much of a curse to her! Indeed, she'd read online - and perhaps in one or two half-remembered special broadcast documentaries on the news - that some people thought they were better off just offering themselves to the horde on their own terms, wandering deep into infested territory to find someone to turn them. She thought about it for a second. She imagined herself shuffling, naked, down a city street, skin a deathly grey-green. Her body was totally naked, her bare feet treading on the rocks and dirt without a care, her zombified body matted with the remnants of orgies past. Her eyes were blank, and her mouth hung slack and unconcerned, a sliver of drool dripping down its corner. She marched with a million other zombies towards a camp full of humans, ripe for the taking...
A small wet patch appeared between her legs. She was enjoying this fantasy.
...And at the gate of the camp, with a machete in hand, was Hannah, her long brown hair done up into a ponytail, body slick with sweat, wearing shorts and a tank top. She was ready to face the horde, and by the looks of it, this veteran survivor would have no issue defeating any number of vicious undead. For her, for such a strong, capable woman, there could be no amount of zombies that would faze her. She could - and would - take on the entire world, and come out unscathed. But then - oh, the delicious tragedy of it - then she saw Sarah, in the horde. Her girlfriend, who had been infected long ago... As if by coincidence, here again. Oh, how Hannah had missed her all these long months! Any number of survivors would so gladly have her, this prize of a woman, but she remained chaste, for her fidelity was still with Sarah, despite having lost her so long ago. Waiting, perhaps, for a moment like this. And her love was so great and total that she dropped the blade, and threw herself into the crowd - and she let Sarah ravish her, take her body...
Sarah's hands had found themselves inside her pants now, massaging her wet folds.
...And the skin on Hannah's body would change! Greying, to match hers. She'd slowly start to become a zombie, just like Sarah was. And they would kiss, and her eyes with lock with Hannah's, and Hannah would tell her, "I love you" as the change completed in her body and she came her brains out and she became just like her and she was such a good zombie, so obedient and strong, and they were together forever and ever and ever just fucking and sucking-
Sarah came in her pants.
She spent a minute or two just enjoying the afterglow. She took her fingers out from her crotch and sniffed them. An intrusive thought entered her head - what if she did just volunteer? Just stripped off and walked into the horde right now, and became just like the zombie version of herself in her imagination...
No - the fantasy that played out in her head was just a fantasy. If she was going to go, she'd go with Hannah, and that was a whole conversation of its own. Maybe later? Eh - it seemed like the sort of topic that would really upset her. She didn't seem like the type to do it, and if she wasn't the type to do it then neither would Sarah be. She shouldn't even be thinking about something like that - it was like being a traitor to mankind. She shelved this thought, this sinful desire to betray her species, and took a glance at the digital clock on her phone. 4:54; it was about time to start getting ready.
She tossed her soiled panties and pants into the laundry hamper, not bothering to change into anything in a hurry. She would have had to take it off anyway.
The couple kept their "special fun time gear" in a plastic box under the bed. Inside were the tools she'd be using on herself - leather bindings and straps. First, she had to change into more romantic attire - a lacy corset, fishnet stockings, matching crotchless panties, frilly choker, and blindfold - not on her eyes just yet, of course, since there was still work to be done. She looked in the mirror - and the perfect model of a subbe looked back.
With all of these donned, she began the process of strapping herself, spread eagle, on to the bedposts. She began with her feet, slipping on the ankle cuffs and securing them to the posts. Then, she did her left arm, slipped her blindfold onto her eyes so that she could no longer see anything, and did up her right arm. In case anything happened, her phone was within reach, so she could call for someone to come and pick her up - just in case. Once her right arm strap was bound up, she wouldn't be able to escape on her own - that was what made it fun, obviously. Now she just waited in anticipation for Hannah to return - it wouldn't be long now.
The anticipation was all part of the game. Ready to be taken, Sarah lay there in blissful agony, pussy already dripping with an unsatisfiable need. She struggled a little from time to time, playfully testing her binds as if her arousal was too much to allow her to do anything other than desperately try to rub herself. It wouldn't be long now, she was sure. Every minute that went by was like an hour; with her eyesight robbed from her, she felt like she was practically stewing in her own juices, boiling in her body heat as she waited for the clock to tick down.
And eventually, she heard the door burst open, and she knew that her torturous deprivation was coming to an end.
Pussy. That was all the newlydead zombie knew. She needed it. Her own ached with desire - dripped its infection down her thighs and on to the ground, as she walked. She was missing one of her black dress shoes, and the one that was remaining clung to her toes from its strap, dragged behind her foot. Her sheer pantyhose were torn in the crotch, and she had conveniently chosen not to wear panties that day, which made her conversion all that bit easier. Her suit jacket, and the shirt underneath, had been ripped open, revealing a sizable pair of green-grey breasts. Her slack-jawed face was slick with foreign liquids, the cool mucus a souvenir of her enjoyable transformation. Her eyes, once a bright and colorful hazel, were now glazed and white. Finally, her brown hair was loose from her bobble, and spilled down her neck and shoulders crudely.
