FSE

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WARNING: the nameless protagonist, his friends, and everyone else who rules the enclaved cities are not good people. Most of them were awful people before the apocalypse, and they’re apathetic, hedonistic despots after the apocalypse. With that said, beware of dark themes and implications stated within this text, mainly regarding different forms of slavery, classism, different kinds of abuse, coercion, blackmail, and later mass murder at the end of the story. You’ve been warned.

~*~*~*~*~

I’d woken up so hungover, I could barely remember my own species, let alone which of the Regency’s suites I woke up in. I was a canine, for sure, perhaps a wolf or a coyote thanks to my fluffy tail. Now, it was matted and crusty with dried drool and sweat.

A nail dug deeper into both sides of my temple as nature called. Joints popping, and legs are feeling loose like noodles, I stumbled between cuddling, naked mammals and a few messes I dared not smell, right towards the bathroom. Thank God, it was unoccupied, and I puked my guts out into the toilet while keeping the lights off. I dared not flip any switch. I felt groggy, weak, and admittedly, still horny from the night before. I could go for a soft mouth or tight ass around my half-hardened cock. It especially grew stiff as I remembered the events of the night before; my friends and I had organized an orgy and ordered several enclave workers to participate, or else we would make sure they wouldn’t get their meals for the next few days.

Everyone had so much fun. I got to fuck a few ladies and one twenty-something buck who’d had his antlers shaven off, as well as enjoy the sight of my friends railing into this twink Dalmatian we’d promised a free week’s worth of rations for a good time—if only we could remember their names. I shuttered at the memory of that buck’s throat as it gagged around my shaft, the velvety feel of a mountain lioness’ pussy as it soaked my fingers as my left paw pads groped her bouncing breasts. Other memories flashed across my vision; sitting on the couch with a nameless lioness MILF kneeling between my legs, bobbing up and down the length of my still-hard dick. Meanwhile, I took swigs of moonshine and casually watched my friends spit roast that fox Dalmatian, whose black spots were already appearing whiter each time we used him. The room had to have filled with moaning, squirming, and choking noises. Plus, a few suppressed sobs every once in a while, between angry mutters they thought we couldn’t hear.

The only thing that made it awkward was when a couple of the workers started complaining about their living conditions and asking if we could do anything. Typical crap. We simply said we would consider it if they got back to servicing us. This was especially encouraged when I threatened to press down a button and have the merc’s arrive to ‘deal with worker insubordination’. The same phrase was often used to put them back in line.

As always, it worked. Resistance was futile, after all. The founders of each enclaved city were the reason that civilization survived in some form. Without us, the workers would be killed by armed raiders and starvation out in the ruined world. They owed us everything.

A part of me still wanted to feel disgusted with myself, even years after the end of the world. The rational side of my brain kept reminding me that my friends and I were monsters, that this was wrong and immoral. Had society not collapsed years ago, and the rule of law still existed beyond the walls of the enclave I called home, there would’ve been consequences for my actions. Police would arrest me and have me charged for various crimes, if so-called ‘cancel culture’ didn’t punish me first by getting me fired from my old job as a business executive. A judge and jury would rule that we ought to have spent the rest of our lives in prison.

However, that no longer mattered. Consequences no longer existed within the enclave. The police no longer existed. Cancel culture no longer existed. My business executive job no longer existed. Judges, juries, and the American legal system no longer existed. Prisons did exist, but they were smaller and only held the enclave workers that we couldn’t trust to keep doing their tasks but could not kill or exile for their crimes against us.

The euphoria of reliving departure memories short circuited though when I felt another urge to vomit. By the time I puked my guts out (again) into the toilet, I could hear another one of my friends groaning out in the suite’s main room. Another one spoke up.

“Huh? Hey, where are they?”

“Ugh…w-who…who?”

“Those workers…from last night…”

“Probably fucked off back to their shitholes…God, can ya do me a favor…call room service, tell ‘em to send somebody up with breakfast? Aspirin too.”

“Gladly…I’m fuckin’ starve—huh? What the fuck? Why’s it not working?”

“What’s not working?”

“The phone. It’s dead!”

Stumbling out of the bathroom, I ignored the throbbing in my head and searched for my clothes. I only managed to find my shirt and socks before ultimately deciding to steal a bathrobe. I couldn’t handle the loud noises, and neither could the other participants who stayed after the orgy. They too were clutching their heads and looking for their clothes. As my friends argued and complained about who would be to blame for maintenance on the landline, I walked over to the front door.

It wouldn’t open. I stood there confused for a few seconds before looking it up and down. None of the locks were jamming it closed. I tried several more times to turn the knob and pull inward. My attempts didn’t work and I started to grow frustrated.

“Dude, you lock it or something?”

“C’mon! Open it!”

“I can’t!” I barked.

“Be quiet! My head hurts…”

“Open it! Open it!”

“It! Won’t! Fuckin’ budge!”

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through our snarling banter.

“Attention, attention to every enclaver bastard living inside the Regency Hotel!” A loud voice spoke through the emergency P.A. System in the hallway, which shrilled high enough to be heard through the door and shatter my skull. “You don’t know me, nor do you even care. I am one of many mammals you’ve enslaved with the promise of safety within the walls of this city. And every other enclaved city that has been propped up across this continent.”

Did that voice sound familiar? I exchanged confused looks of recognition between myself and my friends. Was he the antlerless buck or the Dalmatian twink we’d all just fucked last night? No, it was an older woman’s voice—the lioness MILF!

Wait, why did I smell burnt toast? Also, was it just me or did I hear faint gunfire?

“You lied to us,” the voice spat, pure venom and hatred in each spoken word. Yet her voice somehow sounded controlled, measured even. “You offered survivors like us sanctuary, promising to protect us from dangerous psychopaths after the grid went down and the world fell into chaos. But now we see that the only dangerous psychos are you people, the same ones who fucked up our planet with your greed and hedonism. And after the end of the world, you expect to do the same thing with these ‘enclaved cities’. You expect us to work like peasants, growing your crops, keeping your streets clean, and letting you do whatever you want because you think you’re now the rule of law in this land? You seriously think that now that there’s no more government, that you somehow inherited unchecked power like kings? Fuck that!”

The air felt thicker. We tried desperately to open the door, slamming our backs and palms against the wood. I searched my pockets, trying to find my work phone and access card, only to freeze. Both were missing, and I couldn’t help, but immediately wonder if my friends had theirs missing too. It also didn’t take long for my eyes to light up with sobering horror. I then realized who had taken them while all of us had been unconscious.

“You didn’t give us a safe haven, you trapped us in a prison,” she continued. “And now, we’re trapping you inside the Regency as we burn it to the ground! Even as we speak, a fire is blazing inside the bottom four floors of this hotel, and resistance members are already clashing in the streets with your hired mercenaries who sold their soul to the devil. They two are going to burn for enforcing your madness!”

I yelled for help. So did my friends. We coughed and gagged as smoke trickled inside the room. The front entrance to the suite became a mob of clamoring limbs and screams as we tried to get out. I became losing consciousness as tears snaked down my cheeks.

“Resistance is not futile. And this is not ‘worker insubordination’: consider this a declaration of war on all of you, Enclavers. We are not trapped in these cities with you. You are trapped in these cities with us.”