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The post-nut clarity struck hard. Almost as hard as my spent fox cock had been minutes earlier. Almost as hard as the solid globes of fur and athletic muscle, with a tight tailhole I'd just finished ejaculating inside. My lust suddenly evaporated, and I suddenly realized drool coated my chin, already drying like paint.

At the very least, I managed to avoid knotting. That required talking to the wolf, which I really didn't want to do. It wasn't for personal reasons against him, really. Part of me was afraid of crying in front of a stranger right after emptying my seed in him.

The ordeal left me feeling older. I let out a series of breathless gasps, and so did my twenty-something year-old lover for the evening. Panting, sweaty, and suddenly desiring a hot shower, I tiredly pulled my flaccid length from the large wolf, then directed him to the secondary bathroom. Not before patting his marble-like posterior though, making the musclebound soldier chuckle.

“Ration bucks're in the drawer next to the refrigerator," I mentioned, using the back of my palm to wipe away drool. “Feel free to get a drink or whatever. If I'm not out before you leave, I hope you have a nice night…"

“Mm, thank you," he mumbled, “Thank you, sir."

“Better be quick," I pointed out, “or the skyway system'll be packed with workers."

“Good idea," he said, groaning as the nameless jarhead stood upright off the towel-covered bed. As he waddled to the other bathroom, his back muscles flexed and tail wagged, and he told me, “Hope you have a nice night too, sir…"

“Thanks," I replied after a moment, “and stay safe."

The way he again called me 'sir' didn't sit well. Granted, I technically outranked him as an honorary member of the Minneapolis Enclave Council, but it wasn't like I had real power. I didn't control rations, electricity, or soldiers like him. I just happen to be an average fox who stumbled into luxury.

Hot water cascaded in torrential downpour around me. My tears washed away with my exhaustion and aches. I stood motionless, staring at nothing in the tiled shower stall, letting the water wash the grime down the drain. No doubt to be recycled by a poor plumbing worker. It went on for several minutes, long past the normal ration time for a regular Minnie apartment, until I found the resolve to squirt shampoo conditioner into my palms. Then, I washed away all physical traces of me having just fucked the living daylights out of an enclaved city guard.

Speaking of whom, my lover for the evening, his jacket, clothes, and rifle vanished. I wasn't surprised to find the rugged younger wolf made himself a sandwich, leaving me the other half of it on a plate. He should've taken the whole thing, really. If not for himself then perhaps for a family member his salary could barely cover. He didn't look like one of the pre-Collapse mercenaries, probably being a volunteer who passed inspection.

“I wonder if…" Shaking my graying muzzle, I released a deep sigh. “Don't think about it."

The thought of seeing the wolf guard again on a date didn't even cross my mind as I reached over to grab the sandwich and nibble on it. My emerald eyes drifted from the carpeted floor to the windows overlooking Minneapolis. Or rather, what amounted to Minneapolis in the post-Collapse world.

The penthouse apartment they assigned me used to be a hotel room. It sat on the top floor of Minnesota's tallest hotel, in fact. What it had in height compared to the other skyscrapers it made up for with a view of Minneapolis at dusk. I could see past of the perimeter wall and the No Man's Land between it and a desolate city already being conquered by Mother Nature. If I needed to compare my life to someone else's, it had to be a songbird in a gilded cage, particularly one with a large lock.

Life in a North American enclaved city didn't really resemble Heaven. Sure, citizens like me had clean water, working plumbing, food, medicine, security from marauding raiders, and an actual electrical grid. Plenty of the amenities that made pre-Blackout, pre-Collapse civilization so great. There even existed jobs like manufacturing and factory work. Much like Heaven though, very few were allowed out and very few could get in. And any mammal who somehow did would quickly learn all our privileges came with a large price tag. Behind the large perimeter walls, laissez-faire capitalism reigned supreme, and forced labor fueled the machines.

Apparently, in the days leading up to the nationwide blackout, and in the intervening weeks of the Collapse, dozens of wealthy, well-connected mammals fled into underground bunkers, taking their capital and replacing their currency with gold, silver, and resources. As society crumbled and the world went into chaos, they waited until the U.S. and Canadian governments eventually evaporated. As soon as they did, the wealthy elitists then emerged from underground with mercenaries and contracted soldiers and were intent to carve their own slices of what remained.

Several cities were ultimately chosen to be walled-off havens. Although not all the chosen locations succeeded (Chicago's survivalist population literally kicked their rich asses straight out of Illinois), enough made it through the first winter. These enclaved cities now served as sanctuaries from the extreme weather and chaos beyond the walls, and while mammalkind slipped back into the Dark Ages, wealthy residents intended to live in the light.

I chuckled to myself, looking at my surroundings.

Of course, they also needed people to make the electricity, cook the food, and fix the plumbing. As well as keep maintenance on their little corner of the world. So, they encouraged civilians to live inside under the pretense of their enclaved cities being safe havens. Survivors of the Collapse ended up trading one Hell for another; they had a choice either to work long, grueling shifts 'for the city', or not receive any ration bucks at all. Plenty of people went home too exhausted from the barbaric ways line managers pushed their workers, with many stumbling to their homes, or dying on the streets from exhaustion. Very few resisted the temptation of work for food, but often, you'd spot a conscripted worker removing a dead body, starved or died from sickness, in the slums near the riverfront.

Minneapolis treated its population well, arguably much greater compared to the other enclaved cities. Each had their own unique methods of control; the enclave in Oklahoma City literally poured tiny amounts of cocaine and heroin into the ration foods for workers so they'd experience continuous withdrawal without eating it. Atlanta simply needed to turn off the electricity and water for certain buildings. Vegas exiled its disobedient workers westward to die of dehydration or radiation poisoning caused by a destroyed nuclear power plant. Portland hung its traitors by the neck, forcing everyone else to watch. Denver emptied their jail cells each winter by letting the cold in. No matter the punishment, it was barbaric!

“How did it come to this?" I always asked myself. “Why did I tell them I knew how to operate radios? Why didn't I pretend to be another blue-collar nobody?"

In the end, the answer would always come to me: because it was how I survived. Before the Blackout, I worked as a radio technician and part-time radio host. Without the Internet and satellite networks, the only way to communicate between other enclaved cities was by radio.

Sandwich now finished, and twilight just beginning to end, I decided to return to work. I clothed myself, steeled my nerves, then left the apartment for the nearest elevator.

My eyes tried to go into tunnel vision. I didn't want to see my surroundings, let alone the decadence of my supposed peers. In certain areas of the skyscrapers, it reeked of drugs and alcohol. In others, the scent of an unending orgy came flooding from certain rooms. Even so, it didn't prevent the less-degenerate upper-class citizens from walking around in extravagant clothing, all of it pre-Collapse, but somehow changing each week with new niche trends.

The moment I stepped out onto the second floor and trekked for the skyway bridges connecting each structure, I'd already noticed an opened hotel room door leading to a den of moans, cries of ecstasy, and a mountain of writhing limbs. I recalled spotting a few drunken partygoers tumble out from the hotel's ballroom doors, where another party started again. Past another door, I spotted a hotel suite full of skeletal, foul-smelling mammals. They sat on every open patch of space; the filthy floor, against the walls, on the sofas, a few cots, and presumably on the bedroom floor if the main mattress was already full. Each mammal I spotted wore VR headgear, their mouths agape like feral animals eternally trapped in the headlights of an incoming car.

My nose wrinkled at the smell while passing by, and I only hoped that a worker or two was tasked to clean any chance they got. More than once, I also spotted one silently cleaning up whatever mess someone left, always in the corner, unseen and unheard as much as possible. For both our sakes, I didn't try to look him in the eye, let alone give a thankful smile.

The scent of sex and booze receded when I arrived at Minneapolis' radio room, on the top floor of one of the other skyscrapers. It mainly consisted of an apparatus of equipment ranging from transistors to wiring, plus a speaker and a fax machine connected to the city's headquarters—what used to be City Hall. Between my previous broadcast and current one, the Council had given me 'recommendations' on what to mention, as well as things to avoid.

Just how many pages would need to be manually recycled? These old-world rich pricks were so wasteful, even after the apocalypse. It made my tail curl angrily and desire another cute ass to fuck so I could forget everything. Instead, I inhaled. I exhaled. I let my fox tail relax and nodded to Alicia, a well-dressed, but bored she-wolf young enough to be a college graduate, sitting at the microphone. Quickly alert, she promptly flipped the switch on the device.

“Good evening, citizens of Minneapolis," Alicia spoke in a professional tone while looking over the recommendations. “Later tonight, expect scattered showers and some clouds going into the morning, followed by a short duration of thunderstorms. Those off-shift have the opportunity to watch several recently retrieved movies being played at Saint Mary's Basilica at this moment, going in to the morning shift. For this evening, remember to have at least one member of your home on watch duty…"

Believe it or not, updating the crowded masses of Minnie happened to be the best part of my work. The other…less-than-desirable tasks involved listening to or telling the Council what the rest of the world looked like. If they approved the information at all.

From what we would occasionally hear from remaining voices on worldwide radio broadcasts, North America wasn't doing much better than other continents. Not long after the Blackout, other countries slowly but surely fell into chaos, either because of the resulting collapse of a global economy, inflamed tensions between neighbors (allegedly, both Koreas wiped each other off the map with nukes, and parts of the Middle East now resembled an irradiated glass mirror), severe power shortages, or due to natural disasters of their own.

Very few large-scale governments remained. The leaders that did survive likely went into enclaves or into underground fortresses, unable to stop or uncaring towards the enclaved cities pretending to be them. Canada's surviving military managed to take control of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, but they didn't pose much of a threat. Jungles in Central and South America burned once the grids ultimately failed. Countries in Europe had splintered into isolated fiefdoms and walled-off, warring city-states not much different from medieval times. Iceland somehow kept an existing government, along with a reunited Ireland and South Africa, the latter of whom had to deal with the Saharan Desert expanding over most of the continent.

Rumors spoke of a cruise liner fleet marauding up and down the Atlantic Ocean like the so-called Mississippi Nation. Maybe another like them existed in the Mediterranean Sea. Nobody knew what became of people in India and Oceania, but Australia was likely abandoned due to severe drought. China had fallen at some point in the previous three years, and the rest of East Asia was enduring stronger typhoons on a regular basis. Some estimated that less than half of the world's population had been wiped out since the Blackout, with most dying from the first winter.

A new fax came in. As Alicia continued giving announcements without interruption, I snatched it up to read the newest update. The Council wanted to inform the public that Atlanta planned to trade more wheat for our steel. Atlanta would be flying the supplies to us via Osprey, dropping it off in what used to be the international airport. The Council also wanted us to tell the workers not to be alarmed by the sight of said Osprey helicopter in the sky.

How much does an Osprey burn while carrying steel? I wondered, passively.

My tail swished against the floor. The cleaned, well-maintained floor. After decades and decades of climate change, Mother Nature was pissed off at us, and rightfully so. Even though most of the leaders and upper-class of enclaved cities numbed themselves with drugs, distilled liquor, private orgies, prostitution (like me), or just watching hours of entertainment in their air-conditioned bubbles, everyone else had to deal with reality.

As I listened to the rest of the world's remaining voices, they lived like aristocrats in denial about the End Times. Was I really not that much different from them? As long as I did my job and didn't ask one question too many, I lived like the rest of them. The penthouse stayed mine, the refrigerator never went empty, I could drink as much clean water or delicious wine as I wanted, and several choices of prostitutes to fuck, including the wolf guard from earlier.

They were shallow comforts though. They were all the shallow comforts of a gilded cage.

***

Finally, the evening's broadcasts were over, and everyone in the radio room finished reviewing transcripts from recorded radio transmissions. Alicia and I turned off the equipment, waited for a fax that didn't arrive, then went our separate ways. Being the daughter of Minneapolis' elite, she likely considered the previous couple of hours a part-time job. A part of me wanted to judge her, but the rational side only shrugged it away, then journeyed down the staircase instead of taking an elevator.

My tail didn't wag like it used to during my radio hosting days the satisfaction I used to feel no longer existed. Not even a minute after I returned to my apartment, and the thought of sleep pulled at me. The bed called me like a siren. As I walked by the large window again, looking out to the shadows of unlit buildings beyond the perimeter wall, I could see a storm brewing. Far off in the distance, lightning and thunderbolts danced behind a dark mountain of clouds coming towards Minneapolis.

“Maybe God's gonna finally pull a Great Flood?" I mused, then turned off my bedroom light, then started to strip…only to turn the light switch on after hearing a knock on the door.

“Who could it be, dammit?" I muttered aloud, approaching the door while rewrapping a bathrobe around my waist. Through the peephole, I could see a familiar face.

It was the wolf guard from earlier, still dressed in a black tactical uniform, and a handgun holster on his hip. He smiled as I opened the door, waving a paw. “Evening, sir," he said.

“Oh, it's you," I noted, rubbing an eye and yawning. “Evening to you too. What're you…What brings you here? Did I…Did I short-change you or something—"

“No, no, no, you didn't." He waved his paws. “I just…wanted to see how you were doing. Before I left, you looked like you were on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, sir."

“Call me Nickolas," I told the taller canine. Startled by my interrupting him, the handsome, younger wolf cocked both ears up. “Please, call me Nickolas, or Mr. Conroy."

He nodded encouragingly. “Sure thing, Mr. Conroy."

“Thank you," I warmly replied. “And, uh…what's your name? I don't think I ever…"

The timber wolf laughed from the back of his throat. “Call me Harrison," he answered.

“Alright, Harrison." I nodded, then gave him a reassuring smile. “I'm doing fine. I'm fine. The look you saw me wearing earlier…it didn't have anything to do with you. I just…I sometimes forget that what's happening out there…is actually happening."

I hated lying to a man I was on a first-name basis with. It wasn't hard to forget about the outside world. I reminded myself about it every day, waking up and falling asleep in luxury. I didn't need a concerned paramour to know that though.

“That's good, that's good," Harrison replied with a firm nod. His arm leaned against the door frame. “I get what you mean. It's sometimes easy to pretend the Blackout never happened, the old government never disintegrated, and we're still living in the pre-Collapsed world. Then you look out the windows to see no lights, and remember: oh, right. It's the apocalypse."

I chuckled, feeling my heavy heart suddenly grow lighter. A yawn escaped my muzzle before I could say anything else though, and Harrison stood up straighter.

“Anyway, I uh…better get back to patrol duty. You uh…You ever need me again?"

I nodded. “Yeah, how about in a couple of days, maybe at noon like today?"

“Sure thing!" he chirped. Giving me a salute, the city guard started turning down the hallway. “Have a good night, Mr. Conway. I uh, hope you sleep well later."

“You too," I said. Before forgetting, I decided to mention, “Oh, and thanks for the sandwich earlier." Harrison turned to me, initially confused. “You left me a slice?"

“Oh yeah! No problem! I figured it was the least I could do." He waved, tail swishing like a broom behind him with each militaristic step. “Thanks again, and good night!"

I spoke with folded ears, “Good night…"

After shedding my bathrobe and shutting off the lights for the final time, I felt my tail lick my ankles while approaching the bed. Its expensive mattress lured me into the blankets and pillows and velvet sheets, then refused to let me go. Entangled in the fabric, I stared blindly up at the ceiling, placing my paw on my chest and remembering the handsome wolf. Drifting off to sleep, I remembered his firm grip, the softness of his fur, the solid frame of his muscles, how his tailhole gripped my fox cock during our last session, but thinking about it didn't get me erect. Not like it usually did. Something else had control of my thoughts. Instead, I focused on Harrison himself. His kind words and easygoing grin somehow stayed with me. I smiled softly.

The only reason enclaved cities existed was because the rich and powerful were too weak to let go of their lifestyles. Instead of living in their five-star bunkers like mythical dragons guarding a hoard of gold, they preferred skyscrapers. If I were a gambling fox, I had to bet they expected to live like kings forever. Pathetic fools.

In time, there would be a whole generation of mammals who didn't know what Dubstep was or what movie theaters were like. In time, the gasoline and parts for certain electronics would run out. It would take decades or even centuries to go back to the exact kind of lifestyle we all took for granted little more than five years prior. Life endured though. The days still turned to night and the sun still rose up in the morning. No matter how hot the summers got or how cold it became in the winters, life found a way. We all found a way.

One day, the enclaved cities would fall, and if I couldn't change them for the better, I hoped to be a member of the cause that ended them. I could only hope.