Prologue
It was a miracle I hadn’t forgotten my name. Lina. There used to be that sign on my office door in gold letters, “Specialist in Sexual and Behavioral Therapy”, and I had always wanted to have my own name written right under it: Lina Mers. Because it sounded professional. I felt safe, sterile. My life was measured. Even pleasure was programmed.
Then came the virus.
Nobody took it seriously at first. Libido-vr-6. A kind of neurostimulator. It was said to increase sexual desire. It would be used in psychological treatments. Then… excessive doses, mutation, then a collapse. The virus invaded the brainstem. It established a connection between the pleasure center and the visual cortex, but such a connection that after a while people started looking only for skin, not light. And then the eyes went. They went blind. But they were still looking. Skin, warmth, sound… and then there was only one thing left: orgasm.
Because the ultimate death point of this virus was pleasure. The end of pleasure was death. Those who now roamed the earth—those blind beings—were the remains of bodies that had once loved, made love, trembled. But now they were only looking for that final reaction. Satisfaction. And that satisfaction was killing them.
When I first met him, I thought he was still human.
He stood at the entrance to the tunnel. I had a backpack on my back, my white shirt and black skirt. I had felt the warmth first. That bleak, electric vibration in the air. Then the sound of his breathing. Deep, ragged. I hadn’t noticed right away that he was blind. But when he turned toward me, I saw the emptyness of his eyes and the animal hunger.
He was naked. Male zombies always were. Clothes were constricting and uncomfortable. That meant nothing to him. But what distracted me was something else. Their penises… oh, yes, there were warnings about that, but no pamphlets, no memoirs, no visuals could prepare me for the truth. Thick, with a split head, full of veins, and unnecessarily large. My chest tightened. I still don't know if it was from fear, embarrassment, or arousal. writing here…
When he got closer, instead of pulling away, I stood still for a moment. Maybe I wanted to die. Maybe I just wanted to see how far I could go. I didn’t dare to breathe. He didn’t “see” me, but he felt me. My breath, my body heat, even my sweat. His instincts guided him. And his body interpreted every reaction as a call.
“Please,” I said, but my voice was so quiet that it only rang inside me.
And that’s when… I touched. When my fingertips touched his thick, hard cock, the zombie’s shoulders pulled back. He shivered. He didn’t hold back. Every vein was like an echo; as if his body was a distorted echo of an entire past. It was as if it had been created to reach that pleasure. And I… I was the one who brought that pleasure to him.
I knew what I had to do to push him away from me, to kill him. I had to empty the sperm inside him. If I did, he would die. His cock wouldn’t fit in my hand. I grabbed it as much as I could and started moving it back and forth. I couldn't take my eyes off his face. Because I didn't know what he could do.
As I touched him, something inside me cracked. The zombie's waist moved. It spasmed. His tongue lolled out. His eyes couldn't see, but his head rose to the sky. At that moment, time stopped. And then, a scream. Neither completely pain nor completely pleasure. It echoed off the walls of the tunnel. His body relaxed. I felt a warmth in my palm. When I lowered my head, I saw the sperm flowing from his cock. Too much, I thought. I've never seen a living creature ejaculate so much before. Or rather, a human.
Before I could even take my hand off his cock, the zombie collapsed to the ground. Yes, that was their weakness. Zombies who had an orgasm died as if they had completed their mission.
And I survived. I looked at the hot liquid flowing to my fingers. There was no one around. I wanted to taste it. Yes, that's when I really started to enjoy it.
