Brave New World

Story by GothPrincess

Here we go then, first post, first futa story I've ever posted...hope you'll forgive the mistakes. Goth x

Brave New World – part 1

Futa/MF-NC/Transform/moderate violence…and long parts with no naughty action whatsoever, so perhaps not necessarily a baiting story I’m afraid. Always available for RP ;)

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Clara pulled the blanket around her shivering body. She looked out of the broken windows of the little cottage she had sheltered in over the winter. Had it really been just nine months since the horror of the plague had brought the world around her to a shuddering halt? She sighed and saw her breath in front of her. The cold air seeped into her bones and made her shiver once more.

The electricity had gone out in most places in the first two months of the plague. The gas soon after. So the survivors…like her…had streamed out of places like London into the countryside. Trying to find things to eat and burn to keep warm. Clara and her sister, Sarah, had chosen to leave earlier than most. When they heard that their parents had died they had decided to flee the madness and growing stink of London for the family home out in the country. But many people were crazy, driven insane by the death and horror around them. And the rumors.

They had reached the family home after two weeks of scavenging and hiding from roving gangs. They’d only been there two days before a gang of men broke in and took Sarah. They had raped her in the lounge. Clara crushed her eyes shut desperately forcing fresh tears back as she remembered hiding upstairs and hearing her sisters anguished cries of terror. She was raped again and again before being taken away by the drunk, laughing gang of men. Clara didn’t leave her hiding spot for a whole day. Eventually she crawled out and snuck downstairs. There was no sign of her sister. Clara left the house soon after and began her new nomadic life.

She had spent most of the winter in this place. It was hidden away from any roads and she was careful not to light the fire during the day, so that the smoke was hidden from passing gangs. She had seen fewer and fewer people as the months went by. Scientists had spoken of secondary waves being a problem even after the main event of the plague had passed…so she guessed many others had died. She began stuffing some newspapers she had found into the fireplace, getting a fire ready for the night. Some of the headlines struck out at her. The oldest spoke of the early days of the plague, China…something like Bird flu was killing hundreds of thousands…then it was in India and the Middle East. The US and UK military complaining to the media about reports of the disease in their armed forces there in Afghanistan. Then it was in Europe. And Latin America. President Obama announcing he was closing all borders into the US…reports of the UK government enacting the emergency powers act…the Queen’s death at Windsor…and the last one…New York being isolated and quarantined…

She had tried to listen to radio broadcasts for a while. But they depressed her. She had been studying medicine, her hope to become a doctor. Occasionally she would sneak into a house, find a working radio and try and find a station. One day there was an American voice came on…it was weak but the phrase she heard stuck in her mind.

“80-90% mortality rate for women, 99.9% for men…” then a burst of static “…reports of extraordinary malformation and deformities in female survivors…”

Then nothing. The world had gone quiet and, frankly, Clara had stopped wanting to hear. Some two weeks after she had arrived at the cottage and pulled the bodies of the couple that had lain undisturbed in their beds out into the little herb garden and buried them there…she noticed something strange…and alarming.

It had been so cold and she had no reason to undress for so long that when she eventually heated enough water to fill the bath in the cottage and stripped she took a long look at her battered, slightly malnourished and grimy body in the long mirror of the bathroom. Clara was startled by how tired and dirty she looked…but couldn’t remember the last time she had seen herself naked like this. She ran her hands down from her modest breasts, her stomach which was flatter than ever now down…over her hips and that’s when she saw it.

But it was when she slipped into the water and lay back in the warm bath that she let her hands stray between her legs. She sighed at the rare frission of pleasure sparking in her cold miserable body when she felt her bud. But…her eyes snapped open. The small button was different…larger…protruding…her fleshy folds were parted slightly di

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