FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Another Pandemic -- Part 1

By Luther

Careful and nimble hands picked over the junk objects that were discovered in the old maintenance and collision repair garage. The sign above read: "Ray's Bar and Service Station", what a fantastic combination. The wrecks of cars lined up in the bays kept casting strange shadows that unnerved the mouse picking through everything. What might seem like refuse to anyone else could be the savior sustenance for the days ahead. The scavenger currently working over the pile of clutter had to be quiet and keep low as not to be seen. He didn't fear being caught by guards or police, but by lurking monsters.

You see, it had been a few weeks since the end of the world came.

Back when it all began, somewhere and somehow, it all seemed oddly familiar. In film and literature and television we've all been so enthralled with what the apocalypse might look like when it came about that it downright polarized people's reactions when it actually did. There were those who couldn't bring themselves to believe it and then there were those who had almost seen this all before -because they had, many times.

But the real life version was due to no meteor strike or nuclear nightmare. It was a virus of sorts; it wasn't unconsidered before but perhaps not like this. While the nations of the world had protocol in place to protect and mitigate all forms of disaster, none were prepared when a crazy retro-virus straight out of a bad horror-porn flick hit the streets. It turned people into huge, oversexed, and over-sexualized versions of themselves who were ruled by their libido and possibly the desire to spread the condition. It was hard to tell since both really involved the same thing.

As a society we've reimagined and replayed our various visions of the end-times ad nauseum. We've turned them into mini-series and videogames and even toys. All the 'normal' things happened in the doomsday scenario: mass power outages, communications down, all travel suspended and so on. Well, it was almost like most would imagine.

Again, nobody really saw the giant sex monsters coming.

Currently this mouse, named Greg, was part of a small group and was pulling his weight by contributing the way he knew how. This old building hadn't been used in some time but it might yield something. He used to work a scrapyard by pulling parts and selling them to auto body shops who fixed cars. It wasn't the most glamorous life but it was serving him well now.

And now he had struck pay-dirt! Nestled in the rusty shell of a nearby station wagon was a collection of food tins, blankets, and basic tools. It was obvious that they were gathered and arranged by someone else, so he took ample time to make sure there were no traps and that he could nab it before the owner came back to catch him. But if they were dumb enough to leave it unguarded and poorly hidden (which it seemed they were) then maybe they could take this as a learning experience.

The vehicle had no back gate to it and it seemed someone had been using it as a bed. The air had an odd smell about it -something possibly familiar which lingered and the mouse's wrinkled little nose couldn't quite place. The owner could definitely use a bath, wherever he was. The cans were dented but the food inside probably still tasted fine. The fabrics were dirty but washable and surely warm all the same.

While most try not to think about the fact that society fell to an STD, those who were still around had some form of sense to them. Greg was one of them. With everything bundled up tightly in those blankets, he raced back to camp as quickly as his padded feet would take him. Yet still that smell persisted and followed him. It must have been the loot.

Meanwhile, some small distance away, Ross sat and pondered. He would often go over many different situations in his head, wondering how he had gotten this far and gone this long. In a way, maybe he hadn't. He could easily picture other worlds and other Rosses in all possible situations, if only in his thoughts, running from beasts. Only he couldn't always run. He'd be caught and subjected to all manner of things and changes. Some were able to last longer than he might, some not so long. But somewhere out there, other versions of him were simultaneously faring infinitely better and infinitely worse.

Why were these thoughts becoming increasingly consuming to him? Maybe they were some kind of defensive coping mechanism, a strange sort of gallows humor that enabled him to laugh it off and carry on.

At any rate, Ross was pleased to see the mouse return. He first spied Greg's form backlit against the sinking sun on the hill and was lifted when it became clear he was carrying something back with him. Since the coyote-wolf figured Greg wouldn't waste his time hauling useless junk, reason held that it had to be something good. He hopped down from his perch and ran down to greet the returning rodent. The coyote-wolf was joined by another fellow named Sven, a skunk he had ran into outside of town who had less of an accent than his name might suggest and made a living fishing. It was easy to believe, the guy was built like a truck and had the broad shoulders and strong back that came with throwing and pulling in nets all day long. Most of the shirts they found never fit him and, ever since he tore his last, more often went without one which left little but a thin layer of black and white fur covering his rippling muscles and less to the imagination. It was a mild season and he didn't seem to mind.

Sven beat him down to the meeting place and Ross arrived to find the skunk smiling and trying to suppress a laugh. The coyote saw why. The mouse had arrived with a beaming grin and straining his pants with an obvious erection.

"Hey Greg, did you get a little excited out there?" Sven asked.

The mouse stopped for a moment, confused. He looked down and made some sound bordering on 'ack' before trying to hide it with the smelling bundle of prizes. "I- er-I guess I didn't notice when I was- yeah when I was being the hero and bringing back all this stuff!" he defended himself, quickly regaining his verbal footing.

"It's alright!" shout Ross, crossing the distance. "By the looks of it you've earned the right to be proud. Let's take a look, shall we?" They poured the stuff out over a table in order to take inventory of it all. But that stench was still present and quickly pervaded the space between them.

"Man why does all this stuff smell funny?" asked the skunk. "I mean, you can say I'm used to it but damn!"

"Hell if I know!" the Greg shot back. "Pretty sure it isn't some kind of harmful chemical or whatever or I'd be done for by now. I'm now about to be some choosy beggar when it comes to this."

"Fair enough. I guess it isn't all that bad, more of an odd smell than really bad," said Ross

"See? Not so bad. You get used to it. It's the end of the world: good luck finding something that doesn't stink about it."

Food followed, courtesy of the recovered treasures. There was even a can-opener among it all so now they had a spare. Sleep came soon after, as was the usual case, and for some more than others. Ross kept waking due to low grunting sounds coming from Greg's direction, from the sleeping bag he was using.

"Are you alright?" Ross called softly.

"Y-eah, yeah I'm good," came the hushed response.

Not much more came of it for a while and so Ross shrugged and let it pass. He was about to turn back towards sleep once more when he caught a whiff of that same odd smell that Greg was soaked in when he arrived. Once more he looked over to see Greg laying face up. Just like when he arrived, he was pitching the proverbial tent with a central pole pushing upward into the air. Ross's eyes were glued to it, he had no idea the mouse was so big down there. He found himself blinking, staring, watching the shape of it creep higher and higher in the dying light of the campfire embers. Trick of the light, maybe? If Ross didn't know better he might think that . . .

"Oh shit," he whispered.

Ross couldn't afford to focus on the mouse any longer. His ears twitched with an unwelcome tingling that told him there was another presence nearby. Heavy footsteps, loud breathing, a flash of movement before he could even begin getting out of his cot and Ross was watching a titanic figure bursting into campsite like a nightmarish figment from his half-sleeping state.

It was a hyena. Or rather it looked like a hyena with the face, the teardrop ears, the wide nose, dark spots, cropped mane, and wiry tail. The semblance to a normal fur ended right about there. He, and it was definitely a he, was shaped like an infected -he had to be. Nobody was born naturally with that kind of body, the odds it happened to be a hugely endowed bodybuilder nudist were infinitesimal and, with the way the intruder was acting, out the window.

Hulking was a good word to describe the hyena's body. Sweepingly broad shoulders on a hunched frame were inset with a stooped head, bowed forward by posture and aggression, while generously proportioned legs and arms kept the figure crouched low and poised to lunge or leap on any of them.

Greg was startled awake and thus moved first, drawing the giant hyena's attention. It was dark, dark enough to where the half-moon was putting out as much light as what was left of their campfire, and in those highlighted shadows Ross saw the mouse was in trouble. With a single and relatively quiet leap through the air, the Greg found himself being attacked, grabbed by the shoulders and wrenched out of his sleeping bag. Things got louder shortly after that.

"Took my things, did you!?!" the thing bellowed. Everything was amplified as a result of the infection and very often they became more boisterous as well. "I can smell them on ya, thief!" Hyena-guy had gotten a dominating hold on the squirming mouse and was toying with him, for now at least. "Is that what you like, little thief, the smell!? Here, have plenty!"

And that was when the attack took a turn. With little to shy away from, the hyena seized Greg and pushed him down between his legs, bringing his head dangerously close to the hyena's dangling cock and balls. A perfumed stench, strong yet strangely enjoyable, hung near that pair of balls, each the size of the mouse's head. The intimidating things smelled exactly like the blankets from before. It was a realization he scant had time to make before his face was shoved straight into that incredibly gifted crotch.

Of course the hyena wore no pants; they would only get in the way of sex, consensual or otherwise. So Greg caught a face-full of sheath, his muzzle being smashed against its softness. His eyes were centimeters from it, held in place to watch the thick head of the hyena's dick slide from it as arousal came so easily to both. The smell was amplified tenfold now, everywhere the mouse could possibly breathe was filled with it and so was his nose and lungs while the hyena only laughed.

The mouse tried to open his mouth to yell but only got hyena nuts in his muzzle, trying and failing to yank back as his tongue accidentally was brushed and then pinned against the side of one of those big balls. Greg wished so hard that they didn't taste and smell so good.

His face was rolled back and forth over it, into the musky soft lap-cushions. The mouse tried pushing back against them only to have his fingertips bury into the parts that gave, finding himself now grabbing the balls though it didn't seem to bother the hyena much. He had the forethought of fearing what might happen if he actually did hurt the guy. While pressed tight against him, powerless to do much, one observation Greg made was the surprising amount of time it took for the others to be roused into action.

The shouting and subsequent squealing from the mouse woke up Sven. Ross was already rolling out of his cot, shaking off sleep and trying desperately to think of what he can do. He had to rally the skunk and help and that's what he did, racing over to the beefy Sven and forming a unified front with him. While his friend wasted no time in charging over to the scuffle to aid the mouse, Ross searched for anything he could use as a weapon. The skunk leapt onto the back of the attacker and tried to pry him away and force him to let go of poor little Greg.

Meanwhile, the coyote had found a bent and rusted pipe that would serve as an effective cudgel and circled around in front of the struggling trio. Sven was big but the hyena was bigger and would eventually win as soon as he could get a good grip on the skunk.

"Drop him dammit!" shouted Ross. Drop him or I'll bash your stupid face in!" He raised the piping like a club, brandishing it against the assailant. The two locked eyes for a moment, the hyena's a golden brown set against the polar blue of Ross's.

The hyena flinched, between being outnumbered, harried from the back, and threatened from the front. Yeah he was big, but a pipe to the face hurts just about anyone. He dropped the mouse and focused energy on throwing off Sven, which was easy with both arms, who fell to the ground face-up. The big creature snorted and ran off, still slouched low and disappeared quickly into the dark.

It was a victory for numerical superiority but perhaps a pyrrhic one. Greg was reeling and sputtering from sensory overload. If he wasn't infected before he had to be now. The mouse rubbed his hands against his face as if trying to wipe something off while the other two just stared at him.

"Greg . . ." Ross began, but found he couldn't finish the thought. The mouse wasn't paying attention. He was still trying to scrub himself free of some invisible stain or smear. The mouse moaned, already moving southward to touch himself as a pre-cum wet spot formed in the front of his underwear.

"Look!" The coyote pointed to the rodent's cock, growing out of the front of his boxers, now the size of his forearm and clearly getting larger by the second. Something had to be done and quickly. Ross and Sven looked to each other, then to the ground below. The coyote pointed out a length of chain they had salvaged and both nodded in silent agreement. Sven moved towards the mouse while Ross went for the chain, the clanking sound it made as he gathered it up alerted Greg who looked up, slowly realizing their intention.

"Guys, guys! I'm not gonna- Guys?" Greg's ears lowered, but his pitiful half-formed protests and bargaining couldn't stop them from jumping him and tying him with it. Soon he was wrapped and wrapped again in it, like a Harry Houdini who wasn't about to escape. A sturdy lock was put in place to bind it all up and gag over his mouth to stop his noise. Last thing they needed was him drawing in more.

The reek of hyena was everywhere, pervading the campsite and threatening both Ross and Sven with infection. Just that brief altercation with him was enough to leave the lingering scent. The two held their noses, put their sleeves against their faces to act as filter, anything to keep themselves from joining the mouse in his predicament.

What would they do? They could hardly wait until morning. Ross sighed; trouble was coming in the form of this hyena and tonight was only the start of it.