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Introduction:

Things go from bad to worse when an orphaned 17-year-old takes shelter from zombies in an empty house. Technically fanfiction (The Last of Us), but I don't think you have to be familiar with the game to enjoy the story. Written for a friend.
The house is empty but not dusty. Something tells you not to mess with it, but you're exhausted and starving, and it doesn't make sense not to rest in the only shelter for miles away. You move the furniture in front of the doors and take your holey tennis shoes off. You brush your hair with your mom's hairbrush, the only thing you have to remember her by. When you're done, you stick the brush back in your bag and curl up in the bed upstairs, feeling just like Goldilocks in your mom's stories.

As much as you hated your mom last week, you miss her like hell now. You fall asleep thinking about the way she used to snore into your ear.

Someone shakes you awake. You scream and jump up, tripping over the blankets and landing hard on the old carpet. Strong paws help you up. You push them away and back into the corner to survey the situation.

Two men are standing near the bed, rifles in hand. They're wearing good boots and coats, and you bite your lip in envy. One is barely older than you are, maybe in his early twenties, but the one who picked you up is quite a lot older. He's tall and thin with graying hair, but you get the impression he could hold his own against infected just as easily as the young guy.

"Easy, now," the older guy says. "We're not gonna hurt you. I'm David, and this is my friend, James. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Marianne," you say, without thinking about it. As soon as you say it, you wonder if it was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn't have told them. Maybe you should've given them a fake name. Ah well-- it's too late now.

"Marianne," David repeats. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

Your face gets feverishly hot. Maybe it's because your dad died when you were so little, but the opinions of older men have always meant a lot to you.

"Thanks," you say.

"How old are you, Marianne?" David asks. "Are your parents around?"

"I'm seventeen," you say. "And my parents are both dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," David says. "But you're in good company. My parents are long dead, as are James'."

"It sucks," you say. "Sorry for breaking into your house. I didn't know it belonged to anyone."

"No problem." David sets his rifle on top of the wardrobe. "It's pretty much 'finders keepers' these days, isn't it?"

You nod. James keeps his gun in hand.

"I got no problem with you sleeping here as long as you want," David says. "You can even come stay at our town for a little while, if you want some company. We got a whole community of folks who help each other."

"That sounds great!" you say.

David moves a little closer to you. "Only thing is, I need you to take off your clothes so I can make sure you don't have any bites or scratches. Can you do that for me, Marianne?"

Your face gets hot again, but you nod. It's a reasonable request. "Um, can the other guy go out while you check me?"

"Afraid not," David says. "I need him here in case you're infected and you try to bite me. I don't think you are, but you can't be too careful these days, right?"

"I guess so." You unbutton your plaid flannel shirt and lay it on the bed. Next comes your undershirt, then your bra, and then you start on your jeans.

As you peel off your socks and then your fraying underwear, David comes up behind you. His cold brass coat buttons on your back make you shiver. He lifts your hair up, running his rough fingers over your smooth skin. Your hair goes over your shoulder, and then his fingers are gliding down your back.

"Put your arms straight out to the side," he orders.

You obey him, looking straight at the floor so you don't have to see the younger guy ogling you.

"That's a good girl," David says as his fingers run along the underside of your arms. He cups the sides of your breasts, groping and squeezing them. His hands shimmy down your sides. "Okay, you can put them down. Now bend over like you're touching your toes."

You lean forward, your hair falling in front of your face like a curtain. David crouches down and rubs his hands over your bottom, paying especially close attention to the skin there. He spreads your cheeks apart, and you gasp as the cool draft hits your skin.

"Almost done with this side," David says smoothly. He runs his hands up and down the backs of your legs, and then he feels up the insides of your thighs. "Good job, Marianne. I'm going to check the front now."

He starts with your face, peering into your ears and mouth. His fingers pull your lower lip down. When he's satisfied with your head, he continues sweeping his hands all over you. He rubs your breasts for a little longer than you think is necessary, but his touch is making you feel warm and tingly and a little lightheaded, so you don't complain.

"Spread your legs wide apart," he commands. When you do so, he rubs his way up to your little patch of black curls.

You curl your toes into the carpet, hoping he doesn't slide his fingers into your wetness. He does. But then again, it would be hard for him to miss it, since you're wetter than a mermaid.

David massages you through the curls, and you accidentally toss your head back and give a little moan. David smirks and slides his middle finger inside you.

"Gotta be thorough," he says, massaging you from the inside.

"Oh God," you gasp, grabbing onto his arms for balance.

He keeps that up for a while, until you're seriously contemplating reaching down and helping him examine you. Then, suddenly, he stands up and declares you bite-free.

"Um..." You press your legs together and scratch your neck. "Can I get dressed, then? It's cold."

"Sure."

As you button your shirt back up, you finally feel brave enough to look into David's face. "Do you have any food, by chance?"

James scowls, but David reaches out and squeezes your shoulder.

"Sure we do," David says. "You hungry?"

Your stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear.

"I guess that answers that." He laughs. "Now, you seem like a smart kid, so I bet you know all about how things work out here."

You have no idea what he's talking about, especially since you just left the Quarantine Zone for the first time two weeks ago, but you nod sagely.

"I got something you want, and you got something I want," David continues. "Maybe we can trade, and both of us can be happy. Sound good?"

You try to think about what's in your backpack you could trade. "I don't have any food or bullets, but I have some extra clothes," you say.

David chuckles. "I'm not gonna take your clothes, sweetheart. I'm not gonna take any of your things. I just need you to do me a quick favor. It won't cost you a thing."

His offer sounds too good to be true, so as naive as you are, you're still skeptical. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," David says. He strokes his fingers down your cheek and then puts two fingers on your lips. His hands smell like dirt and smoke. "You think you can do a little something for me?"

"Is it dangerous?" you ask. "Will it hurt?"

"No and no," David says. "All I want you to do is get down on your knees--" He pushes down on your shoulder until you comply, "--and kiss me for a few minutes. You do that, you can have all the supper you want. Sound like a fair trade?"

You're so hungry you feel dizzy and weak, but you force a smile up at him. "Sure, sounds good," you say. "Just show me what to do."

"I'm gonna check on the soup," James says.

When he's gone, David unzips his jeans and pulls his dick out. You've never seen one in real life, except on the babies you've looked after. It's a lot bigger than you expected, all veiny and standing straight up.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pulls your face closer to it. "Just give it a little lick," he says. "I just showered a little bit ago. It won't be gross, I promise."

You press your shaking hands on his upper thighs to steady yourself. "I've never done this before," you laugh nervously.

"That's all right," he says, running his hand down your hair like your mom used to. "I'll show you how." He rubs the tip of his cock over your lips, leaving a little trail of slime under your nose. "Just be a good girl and stick your tongue out."

You lick the part that doesn't have any wisps of hair, and his dick twitches in response. You like the way that makes you feel, knowing you have that effect on him. You drag your tongue up the side of his erection, staring intently up at his face.

"That's good, sweetheart," he says. "That's great. Can you put it in your mouth?"

You open your mouth and clumsily engulf him, closing your lips around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair and starts moving your head back and forth.

"Watch those teeth," he warns.

You open your mouth a little wider to oblige him. For a few minutes, you just kneel there while he gently fucks your mouth. You wonder whether your mom is yelling at you or cheering you on from the other side. You're too hungry to care too much either way.

"You've got such pretty eyes," David murmurs, using his thumb to wipe away the tear in the corner of your eye. "You don't need to cry, Marianne. We're gonna take good care of you, pretty little girl. Just focus on what you're doing. You're earning a nice big bowl of stew. Think about how nice and warm it's gonna feel in your belly. You're almost done here."

His little pep talk gives you the energy to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his dick and start sucking him and moving your head all by yourself. He keeps petting your hair and saying nice things to you, but his words get breathier and terser.

All of a sudden, he grabs your head with both hands and pulls you so close that your forehead presses against his stomach. He pulses inside your mouth, spurting his salty, bitter load all over your tongue. It reminds you a little of snot, but you're not sure it would be polite to spit it out.

David answers the question for you. "Swallow that," he says, caressing your cheek. "Swallow it all down, hungry little Marianne, and you can have some stew."

You force yourself to gulp down his jizz without gagging. David smiles at you as he pulls out of your mouth.

"Good job, sweetheart." He takes a handful of your hair and uses it to clean off his dick. "You're such a good girl. Now come sit on my lap and have some supper. You can thank the chef later."

David plays with your hair and rubs your back all during dinner. It kind of makes you uncomfortable, but it also kind of reminds you of your mom, and you're not really in any position to tell him to stop.

After dinner, he makes you get on your knees again and "thank" James. James finishes way faster, but he shoots his cum into your mouth so hard that you cough and accidentally snort some out of your nose. Both of the men find that hilarious. You quietly wipe your face and take a swig of water to get the taste out of your mouth.

"It's getting dark," James says. "Should we try to make it back?"

"No," David says. "We'll sleep here. Go check the doors and windows. I'll take first watch."

You kick off your shoes and crawl back into the bed they found you in. David joins you around the middle of the night, once James takes over the watch for him.

"Come here," he says, his cold hand grabbing your arm. "Get close. It's too cold to sleep so far away from each other."

He presses your head to his flannel-covered chest. You're so sleepy that you just shrug and go back to that dream you were having. You forget he's even in the bed until the next morning, when he climbs on top of you and starts kissing you and squeezing your breasts.

Your mom always told you not to fight if this happened, but you're not even awake yet. You thrash around and try to push him off. "What the fuck?" you yell. "Stop! Get off me!"

"James!" David calls.

James rushes in and pins you to the bed while David strips you naked. They tie your wrists together and force them over your head, looping the rope around the metal bars of the headboard. Next, they tie your ankles to the same bars, forcing you to expose every inch of you most private area to the cool draft blowing through the room. You try to get loose, but the ropes are as solid as the knots they tied.

"You don't need to be scared," David says, rubbing his hand up and down the back of your leg. "This won't hurt much."

He sticks two fingers into your virgin pussy. You scream as loud as you can. James slaps you and then clamps a hand over your mouth.

"Stupid girl," he hisses. "You want to attract every clicker in the state? Keep quiet, and we'll be done before you know it."

As bad as this predicament is, clickers would be a lot worse, especially while you're tied up. You settle for crying quietly instead of shrieking.

"Good girl, Marianne," David says, positioning himself on top of you. "I can make it feel good for you, if you behave."

"Ow, it hurts!" you weep as he forces his way inside you. "Ow! I want my mom..."

"Shhh." David puts his hand around your throat. "It'll be over soon. No crying, Marianne. No crying, shh."

You have no choice but to lie there and take his hot, firm dick over and over again. You can't even look away from his face, thanks to the way they trapped your head between your knees. David's face is there every time you open your eyes, twisted in sick pleasure as he rapes you.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper. "I would've said yes if you'd asked me."

"This is so much more fun, though." David kisses the back of your knee. "When little girls are scared, their pussies are so much tighter and wetter. Besides, you're pretty when you're crying."

He rubs his thumb over your clit, and a little bit of humiliating excitement accompanies the awful, painful anguish. You close your eyes. David pounds away at you for a few more minutes and then fills you up with his hot, slippery cum.

"Go forth and multiply," he says with a chuckle, zipping his pants up.

You have no idea what that means. You're just glad he's done. He collapses on the bed next to you, leaving you trussed up with your ass and pussy on display for James (and anyone else who might wander in). You worry that James is going to take his turn next, but instead, David starts teasing your clit again. James holds his rifle and stares out the windows, periodically moving to the next one in the room.

"Please untie me," you say. "I won't hurt you. I won't even run away. I just need to use the toilet. Please untie me."

"Sorry, Marianne," he says, lightly tracing circles over your sensitive little button. "I need to leave you like this for a while. You know why I tied you up like this?"

You shake your head.

"It keeps every drop of my seed trapped inside you." He massages your lower belly with his other hand.

"Why?"

He smirks. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know," you say.

"So your fertile little womb has a chance to use it," he says. "You'll stay here, and we'll do this every day until it takes."

You start to cry again, harder this time. "I don't want to stay in this house forever!"

"Aww, don't cry," David says. "It's not forever. As soon as your tight little belly is so swollen with my baby that you can't run away, I'll take you to my home." He kisses you on the mouth, still rubbing your clit. "The sooner you cum for me, the sooner James and I can bring you to our group. I know your little pussy is about ready to cum, Marianne. You can either give in and obey me, or I can make you real sorry."

"I can't," you cry. "I'm not ready yet. Please don't hurt me. I'm too scared to cum."

"Tell me what you need," David says. "And don't you even think about faking. I'll know. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

You want to die of embarrassment already. And now you're being forced to tell your crazy rapist your deepest, darkest fantasies? You swallow hard.

"I need..." You're not sure you can make yourself say it. "I need... I need something in my butt."

"Oh, you do, do you?" He massages your bottom. "What do you like to put up your ass?"

"I don't know." Your whole body feels as hot as the sun, especially your face. "You can put your dick in it, I guess. Just please don't hurt me!"

He picks up your backpack and starts digging through it. "What's this?" He holds up your mom's hairbrush.

"No, not that! Anything but that!"

He spits on his hand and rubs it into the smooth plastic handle. "Relax," he says. "It'll hurt if you don't."

You try to relax, but it still hurts when he sticks the handle in. You whimper and tighten your muscles, trying to push it out.

"Shh." David goes back to rubbing your clit, gently thrusting the hairbrush in and out of your asshole. "I know you like it. You like getting your ass fucked. You already told me. So tell me again."

The pain doesn't feel so bad now. You moan and squirm a little. "No, please..."

"Admit it, Marianne."

"I like being fucked in the ass," you say, heating the whole room with just your face. "I like being fucked in all my holes."

"You think Mom and Dad are enjoying the show?" He keeps up the assault on your nerves, making your resistance futile.

"No, no, no!" You try to wiggle away, horrified at the thought of your mom watching you cum with her hairbrush up your ass.

In the end, it doesn't matter what you want. David eventually forces you to have a gasping, jerking, crying orgasm, and your spasming womb sucks all of his warm cum inside it. As you lie there, panting and seeing stars, David pats you lightly on one ass cheek.

"Good girl, Marianne," he says, standing up. "Say, 'Thank you, David.'"

"Thank you David," you say through your tears.

"For what?"

"Thank you for fucking all my holes and making me cum."

"And?"

You bite your lip. "Thank you for putting your baby in my stomach."

"Good girl."

With that, he smirks again and leaves you tied up, your mom's hairbrush still sticking out of your ass, while he fixes breakfast.
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