Delirious

A Tale of the Fever Days

Bobbi heard a cough from the alley, and her brown eyes darted nervously toward the sound. She compulsively checked her face mask to make sure that it was firmly in place. She pulled her hoodie forward, over her long dark hair, trying to conceal the mask as best she could before quickening her stride to cross the gap between buildings. Even if anyone did notice her, she hoped desperately that she'd get past before they could realize she wasn't infected. This was the first time she'd been outside in two weeks, and she was terrified that the supplies she was towing in her improvised trolley cart would slow her down enough that they would catch her.

Part of her was already convinced that it was pointless. She and Rosalie spent a lot of their day watching cable news-there wasn't much else to do when you couldn't leave the apartment-and even though everyone tried to put a brave face on the situation, it was clear that things were going badly. It wasn't just the hunt for a cure that was failing, either; the political dynamic was collapsing at a frightening rate. Every state west of the Rockies had seceded from the United States and pledged allegiance to Empress Claudia, and Bobbi couldn't help feeling like that was a sneak preview of what was going to happen to Oklahoma. Especially with the latest footage coming out of Boulder...

Bobbi shuddered. That was the worst thing about Burkitt's Disease-it wasn't just some killer plague like they always showed in the cheesy medical thrillers some basic-cable network on Sunday nights. It wasn't even like the cheesy zombie apocalypse plagues that went direct-to-video, with hordes of "infected" swarming around like wolves dragging down a deer. No, victims of Burkitt's Disease wound up feeling fine-fit, capable, and just as intelligent as ever. The only permanent symptom was that they wanted to help Claudia Burkitt take over the world.

The footage from Boulder replayed itself again and again in Bobbi's head as she picked up the pace a little more, aware that she was letting her nerves get to her but not fully able to stop herself. She kept seeing the look of shock on the newscaster's face as the woman he was interviewing pulled down his face mask with one hand and her own with the other before planting a deep kiss directly on his mouth. They were capable of laying traps, deceiving people about their infection-even making complicated plots, like the man in Boston who was caught trying to dump a load of virus into the water supply.

The woman in the video ran away after the kiss, but you could see on his face that the newscaster knew it was already too late for him. Burkitt's Disease had a 99.999% transmission rate through direct contact with the body fluids of an infected person, and nobody even knew where to start when it came to a cure. In another few days, he'd be happily broadcasting pro-Claudia propaganda just like every station on the West Coast. Civilization wasn't winding down from the plague, it was just turning around a new axis.

Bobbi maneuvered the cart into her apartment building, then carefully and quietly wheeled it to the elevator. The whole time, she kept an eye out for her neighbors-anyone walking around these days when they didn't have to was immediately a subject of suspicion. The only people who weren't concerned with being infected were people who'd already been infected. To them, it was everyone else who seemed paranoid about not being brainwashed to worship a crazy scientist from Silicon Valley and her mind-control virus. Bobbi shuddered again, trying to tamp down her rising sense of panic at being out in the open. She glared at the elevator as if she could bring it down to the lobby through sheer force of will.

It was only when Bobbi got into the elevator and the doors closed that she was able to relax a little and take a look at her haul. It was a little pathetic, barely half as much as last time-the canned food would last them a while, but Bobbi could only find a few pallets of bottled water and neither she nor Rosalie trusted the water supply after Boston. They'd have to make it last as long as they could, though. Bobbi wasn't quite to the point where she was willing to accept permanent submission to a crazy-pants lady halfway across the country just to be able to shower, but she was getting close. She just hoped that Rosalie had done better.

Bobbi made the trip back to her apartment with a little less trepidation. Up here, the odds of bumping into a stranger weren't so bad, and it was only a short distance to her own door. Once she and Rosalie got inside, they could put the chain on-nobody trusted locks anymore, not since hearing about the landlord in Idaho who got infected and used his master key to take over the whole building in one night, but a chain was at least some security. If they got through that, they would probably get through any other barricade two college students could put up.

Not that Bobbi was depressingly aware of the futility of the whole mess or anything.

She unlocked the door with trembling fingers, slid the trolley inside and locked it again behind her. Seeing Rosalie's shoes in the entrance, she went ahead and slid the chain home behind her, then finally breathed a deep sigh of relief as she pulled her mask down. There would be time to put everything away later. For now, she could relax, calm down and find out how her roomie did in her shopping trip. They'd do their panicking later.

"Hey Rosalie, I'm back!" she called softly, heading into the living room. "I hit the supermarket down on Oak and 14th, they still had a few things left but pickings are getting pretty slim. I think the whole city is running out of stuff, at least until...you know, things change." Bobbi tried to tell herself that 'things change' meant a cure, a vaccine, a drone strike on Claudia Burkitt in whatever secret bunker she was hiding in while her brainwashed minions conquered the world...

But in the back of her mind, Bobbi could already see the food deliveries starting up again, each one containing truckloads of contaminated supplies that only the infected could eat safely. She could picture the supermarkets no longer abandoned by disease-fearing employees, but fully staffed with cheerful and friendly acolytes of Empress Claudia who were happy to serve anyone who would take off their face mask and give them a little kiss. She could imagine streets no longer deserted, but full of Empress Claudia's supporters who would go block to block and door to door making sure that everyone got their very own special serving of Burkitt's Disease. Bobbi didn't have to wait for things to change. Things were changing already.

The TV was on when Bobbi came into the living room, showing the President at an undisclosed location giving a speech about the latest progress at the CDC, but Rosalie wasn't there. Frowning a little, Bobbi went down the hallway to check their bedrooms, then the bathroom, but there was nothing. Still empty. She doubled back-the apartment was pretty big for student housing, but it still wasn't exactly spacious. If Rosalie wasn't in any of those rooms, Bobbi must have walked right past her when she went by the kitchen. But why wouldn't Rosalie have said anything if-

Bobbi got out into the living room. She stopped dead. Rosalie was in the kitchen entrance, completely naked. Her skin was flushed, her short red hair was matted with sweat, and she shivered slightly despite the warmth of the room. She held a damp sponge in one hand, and Bobbi could see soap suds clinging haphazardly to her body. And she was muttering to herself in a low, rambling monologue that chilled Bobbi's blood.

"Must be useful," Rosalie said, her voice bright and brittle and utterly disconnected from reality. "Good girls are useful, good girls serve, I'm a friendly little morsel and I love to help the world. Got to clean, got to scrub, got to make everything shiny for the Lady when she comes. I have to do, have to do something, she's coming and I've got to be perfect, got to make her love me, I just, I have to...it's all got to be clean, clean, clean, clean!" She rubbed the sponge over the walls seemingly at random as she talked, wiping away dirt that only she could see.

Bobbi froze. She let out her breath in a very slow, very quiet hiss as she took one incredibly careful step backwards. Then, trying desperately not to make even the slightest bit of noise, she pulled her face mask back on. It wouldn't help if Rosalie came after her with the intent of...o fuck o fuck infecting her Rosalie was sick she had the disease she was sick she was going to make Bobbi sick this was it she was doomed she was going to become one of those blank smiling creepy minions o fuck o fuck o fuck-

With a conscious effort, Bobbi cut off the stream of hysterical gibbering that was pouring out of her brain. She forced herself to look at the situation analytically, pushing aside any question of long-term planning and simply focusing on her immediate priorities.

Priority One: She needed to get out of the apartment immediately. The longer she stayed, the greater the odds that she'd contract the virus. Rosalie was a walking disease vector right now, and she'd only become more dangerous as time went on. At the moment, it sounded very much to Bobbi like Rosalie was in the throes of the initial infection-delirious with fever, and probably weak and shaky to boot. She didn't even know Bobbi was there. But once that subsided, she'd do everything she could to try to convert Bobbi to Claudia's cause.

Bobbi felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of abandoning her friend while she was sick to the point of hallucinating, but she pushed it to the back of her head with all her other anxieties. She couldn't help Rosalie now, and she couldn't stay here-even if Bobbi managed to somehow maneuver her sick friend out the apartment door, she'd only buy herself a brief respite until the feverish haze subsided, leaving a fully conscious and deeply brainwashed Rosalie who knew exactly where Bobbi was. No, she needed to get out and worry about where to go later. Which meant she needed to get Rosalie away from that door.

Bobbi took a few careful steps to the left. The living room opened directly onto the kitchen from this angle, so Bobbi could get in without Rosalie seeing her...but not through. Rosalie was blocking the front door almost directly. If Bobbi wanted out, she had to either draw her further into the kitchen or up the hallway into the living room. And she had to do it without bringing any attention to herself. She needed something that Rosalie would react to instinctively, something that would make her come running-

And then the idea was there in her head, all at once. And Bobbi carefully, quietly began hunting for the remote control.

Once she found it, Bobbi crept back to the hallway leading to the bedroom. She stretched her hand out as far as she dared, tapping in the same channel code over and over again. Most of the channels had switched over to news of the crisis, a few had continued showing their regular programming in a pretense of normality (Guy Fieri reruns would probably continue until doomsday), but a few networks were showing something entirely new. Most of the time, Bobbi and Rosalie pretended they weren't even there, because they were so creepy to think about, but this was the perfect time for a little dose of-

Bobbi finally heard the audio from the TV change, and she yanked her hand back like the living room was on fire. From just around the corner, she heard the sound of Claudia Burkitt's voice delivering one of her many pre-recorded speeches that ran twenty-four hours a day on those networks she'd already converted.

"-and I say to you, my friends and loved ones, that this is not the end of the world. This is the beginning of a better one. A world where we are all united by a single belief, a single cause, a single voice that guides humanity away from war and deprivation and want and into glorious servitude. The people you convert aren't being hurt. They're being saved. Feel no concern for them, for they are joining us in peace and contentment. They-"

Rosalie's shout drowned out the rest of the sentence. "Claudia!" she shrieked, her voice thick with feverish devotion. "Claw claw Claudia!" Bobbi watched from around the corner as Rosalie sprinted past her, a beatific smile on her face as she ran to be close to the woman she now loved with all her soul.

As soon as Rosalie went by, Bobbi ducked around the corner in the opposite direction. She headed for the door as quietly as she could, desperate to avoid making any kind of noise that would draw Rosalie away from the perfect perpetual distraction. Bobbi had never thought she would be happy about that bitch endlessly yammering on television, but if it turned out to be the thing that saved her, she'd take it.

Then Bobbi heard a loud crashing noise from the living room, and the sound cut off. "Mistress?" Rosalie said, sounding confused and hurt. "Where did you go? What did I do wrong?" Bobbi didn't turn to look, but she was already pretty sure she knew what happened. Rosalie must have knocked over the TV set in her enthusiasm.

Well, crap. Bobbi decided that it was time to forget about stealth and make a run for it. She sprinted for the door and grabbed at the chain with fumbling, panicked fingers, no longer caring whether Rosalie heard her. She needed to get out and get out now.

She got the chain off, and yanked on the door twice before realizing she'd forgotten to unlock it. It took her only a half a second to flip the deadbolt, but she could feel Rosalie behind her like a looming stalker in a horror movie, and it took all her self-control not to glance around as she pulled the door open and-

It smacked loudly into the handle of the trolley that Bobbi had let drop just a few minutes ago, opening less than a few inches. Bobbi's eyes went wide with terror.

Bobbi closed the door again and shoved the trolley out of the way, but just as she was opening it a second time she felt Rosalie's fever-hot arms snake around her waist and Rosalie's lips nuzzling her neck. "Where are you going, Mistress?" she said, her voice still singsong with delirium. "Don't you want me to pleasure you?"

Oh fuck, Bobbi realized. Rosalie thought she was Claudia. Somewhere in that misfiring mess of fever dreams and brainwashing, she'd fixated on Bobbi as her perfect sex goddess and she wanted to do what all of Empress Claudia's female servants prayed they'd someday get the chance to do-kinky, submissive lesbian sex with the woman they worshiped.

Bobbi grabbed at Rosalie's hands, trying to pry her loose, but Rosalie had the determination of delusion backing her up. Every time Bobbi got one hand free and reached for the doorknob, Rosalie would find another place to grab. And fondle-Bobbi could feel the desire in each of those touches. "Knock it off, let me go!" she shouted, hoping she could at least use Rosalie's hallucination to her advantage.

"No, Mistress," Rosalie moaned, sounding just as desperate as Bobbi but in a very different way. "No, please, please let me love you!" She yanked at Bobbi's sweatpants, pulling them halfway down her thighs before Bobbi could get hold of her waistband. She suddenly wished she hadn't dressed quite so much for comfort, but she hadn't really expected to worry about how easy it was for someone to get her clothes off.

She gave up on fighting Rosalie for a moment and just focused on getting her pants pulled up, but Rosalie had gotten tangled in the crotch and was using her entire body weight to drag them down around Bobbi's ankles. Bobbi tried to step out of them, no longer caring if she had to run out the damn door in her underwear, but her shoes got in the way and she lost her balance and wound up going down in a heap of twisted clothing and intertwined bodies.

Bobbi tried to get up again, but somehow Rosalie had wound up lying between her legs and she was already wriggling around to get a good close look at Bobbi's pussy through her panties. Bobbi bucked and struggled, her brain endlessly repeating '99.999%' over and over in animal panic, but Rosalie hung on with the strength of a fanatic. She stared at Bobbi's crotch with bright, shining, feverish green eyes, a streamer of saliva dangling from her lips as she leaned closer. Bobbi only had time to think about how ironic it was that she was still wearing her face mask before Rosalie leaned in to lick.

As soon as she felt Rosalie's tongue, Bobbi knew it was all over. It took Rosalie a moment or two to figure out that the panties were in the way, but that didn't matter as far as Bobbi was concerned-she could feel the moisture of Rosalie's saliva soaking through the sheer fabric and she knew that it was making contact with the mucous membranes lining her pussy lips. She was infected, even before Rosalie pulled the panties aside and began to suckle on Bobbi's clit with a single-minded devotion.

Somehow, it felt like a relief. All the worry, all the fear and panic and constant wary vigilance that had weighed Bobbi down for weeks melted away in an instant as Rosalie lavished her attentions on Bobbi's cunt. She didn't have to wonder anymore what was going to happen, she didn't have to spend her every waking moment jumping at her own shadow. She was going to belong to Claudia Burkitt now, and that was all there was to it. The inevitable had happened, and all it felt like was having her pussy eaten.

Rosalie was mumbling something into Bobbi's mound, stringing together catechisms of devotion to Empress Claudia as she licked helplessly away, but Bobbi couldn't understand any of it. It probably didn't make sense anyway. Rosalie was lost in feverish desire, her skin hot wherever it touched Bobbi as she tongue-fucked her friend without even realizing it. Bobbi didn't care anymore. It felt good, and she gave in to it willingly. She was going to submit sooner or later; it might as well be sooner.

Bobbi felt her body getting warmer as Rosalie licked, and she wondered whether the first symptoms were already beginning or whether it was just arousal that was making her so hot. All she knew was that she didn't notice Rosalie's fever as much anymore. She only noticed her tongue, lapping away at Bobbi's clit like a kitten drinking milk. Bobbi whimpered as her pussy grew wet from Rosalie's attentions.

She could feel her orgasm building now, primed from weeks of nervous tension that had pushed all thoughts of sex out of her head. But her body wanted it, needed it, and now that she no longer had to worry about avoiding her fate, Bobbi could feel all that sexual tension coming to a head. She moaned loudly, tangling her fingers into Rosalie's hair as the other woman redoubled her efforts. Bobbi couldn't hold back, and she couldn't remember now why she even wanted to.

Rosalie's tongue flicked over and over and over against Bobbi's clit, driving her arousal on and on until she finally lost track of everything else. Bobbi's eyes rolled back in her head and her breath escaped in an explosive grunt as she came hard against Rosalie's face, bucking mindlessly as she let go of all the tension in her mind and body in a single glorious burst of pleasure.

Rosalie finally stopped when Bobbi went limp, and Bobbi was able to disentangle herself from the other woman. Rosalie was still murmuring about how good Mistress tasted, her eyes now only half-open as the feverish strength faded into feverish exhaustion, but Bobbi knew that there wasn't much point in abandoning her now. Instead, she fixed her friend a bowl of soup and carefully fed it to her, then gave her water until her skin felt slightly cooler. Only then did she give in to the rising, prickly heat in her own body and collapse into her bed.

She knew what was happening to her. But at least Bobbi wasn't afraid anymore.