τερατοφιλία.

It was remarkable how quickly she could soothe him and his anxieties, and once he had that reassurance his mood returned quickly, half-lidded eyes overflowing with sheer desire watching as she moved on top of him and connected their bodies again - at this point his cock was dripping pre-cum, adding to his already glistening erection from her wetness.

He tried to do as most as he could from this angle - cupping and caressing her breasts, holding onto her hips, squeezing her creamy thighs, and sitting up to kiss her again. But when she said she was close, that was it. He laid back, grabbed her hips and thrust as hard and fast as he could, moaning long and low as his head pressed back and eyes closed.

"Please - let go..." He was desperate to feel her cum on his cock first, but the thrusting was taking him dangerously close to the finish line. After a few minutes he couldn't hold it anymore, his orgasm hitting him and a proverbial river flooding up into her, and a gasp for air that sounded as though he were taking his last.

When he thrusts up into her with such rigour, Isabelle only needs a few moments before her climax rips through her makes her whole body seize up - just in time for Peter to have his own, the added squeeze around him only serving to drain him more thoroughly. "Oh- oh!" She simply enjoys the prolonged sensation, grasping his chest and closing her eyes as she rides them both through it, then finally she's spent. She can only slump over onto him and place a weak kiss against his lips before she turns into a human ragdoll. "That was amazing..."

Being romantic wasn't one of his strong suits, yet it seemed to come naturally with Isabelle. Even when he was... urgh. It was a time he didn't like to think about, with exception of that part, now he can remember it. He could swear that was what kept him alive. Of sorts. And now he was clinging to her, breathing her in like she was giving him life. But then she spoke and he pulled away, worry setting in. Is this another Laura situation? Is he going to be shown heaven only to be blinded?

No, and he grinned as he laid back for her, curious about her idea. That is until he remembered the scarring all over his body from various experiments and where his skin had cracked, leaving mottled flesh behind. "Uh..." He reached for his shirt crumpled on the floor, placing it against his chest to conceal it.

The shift in his demeanor is not lost on Isabelle, and once she gets into position - namely, straddling his thighs, she looks at him with care and concern. "Hey... it's okay..." Reaching out, she gently takes the shirt away, studying his form afterward with nothing but fascination. "I want you. All of you." With that she lines him up and sinks onto his cock, beginning the process of riding him, tossing her head back to breathe, hair cascading down her back. She squeezes her breasts before placing both palms against his abdomen, slowly stroking her way up. "I-I'm close..."

In seconds he was inside her, feeling her so intimately, groaning deeply. "Oh, God, baby, you're-" The flashback that followed was so vivid and detailed it was like watching it on a screen, and it made Peter stop mid-sentence. A lab. A blonde girl. Zombies circling. This feeling, of being inside her...

"Oh, God - Isabelle!" Remembering exactly how he knew her now, Peter began thrusting deep and hard into that perfect wet heat, burying his face in the side of her neck to breathe her in and lavish her flesh with kisses - and maybe a couple of marks for later too. He loves her. He'd fallen in love with her all that time they were together, even if his then-state couldn't realize it. Mine.

The way he calls out her name is like recognition, a greeting - from his other self that couldn't speak. A word that tells her everything. She can't go into further detail though, because his thrusts, even more powerful than last time, are so hard they take her breath away, until she can only utter a series of whines, moans, and 'oh's. He holds her close and her right hand brushes through his dark hair while the left glides down his body to squeeze his ass and encourage him not to stop. Until she changes her mind. "P-Peter...?" she manages to speak up, although it's quiet. Once she has his attention she carefully pushes his chest to make him lay back this time.

He was on autopilot as soon as the blonde laid back, and he covered her body with his own - another familiar sensation. Peter placed a hand under one of Isabelle's thighs and wrapped it around his hip, unable to stop kissing her. He had forgotten all about his hang-ups where his scarring and markings were concerned and without a care he aided in the removal of his shirt, closely followed by unbuckling his belt and taking down his pants. Unable to take the strain and wait, he also lowered his boxers so he could release his positively aching cock, which settled against Isabelle's groin. Remaining clothing tossed aside, he melted against her body, skin against skin.

When Peter seems to be as keen - and almost as fast - to get naked as she does, a wave of euphoria travels through her whole body. She feels safe with him atop of her, and her walls flutter and she grows more slick with arousal when his length rests against her. Again... it's familiar. "Please..." she whispers upon breaking the kiss, gaze fixed upon him as she reaches down between their bodies, stroking him in her palm for a moment before finally guiding him into her, a loud gasp following at the intense sensation. It is him. She knows for sure now.

That sound. He had heard that before, he was sure of it. No time to think about how though because suddenly Isabelle was not kissing him anymore, the dress was gone... and he was staring at her completely naked form. That was it - Peter practically pounced on her, grabbing the back of her head and kissing her again. Using his torso he pressed against her until she laid back on the couch, his erection so hard it was starting to cause him pain. "So... beautiful..." he managed to say between intense kisses.

Is she really going to let this blossom as far as it probably will go tonight? Yes, she decides. It's not her usual kind of thing, but there's just something about him. Maybe she'll regret it come tomorrow, but that's a problem for then. His firm upper body against hers is a turn on, and Isabelle lays back willingly, thighs parting so he can lay atop of her. Their breaths are heavy and rapid in the silence of the room and she begins fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, switching to his pants once she's done; making her willingness to do this very clear.

That's it. A few more inches. The gap was closed after what felt like an eternity and Peter's lips crashed against Isabelle's, the gentle touch shifting to him holding her face with one hand before it travelled through her golden hair. He moaned into her mouth, losing himself in her. Those few seconds were more passionate than anything with Laura, Francine or any of the other girls he'd dated or slept with.

The kiss evolved into making out, his tongue toying with the young blonde's, and Peter figured he could take it a little further. His free hand moved from the top of the couch and wrapped around her waist to bring her closer - again getting that familiar feeling as he felt her body against his. Blindly, his other hand searched for an entryway into that dress.

He's a good kisser, Isabelle thinks as their mouths slowly massage. It turns more and more intense the longer they go on, though, and that butterfly feeling intensifies as he puts his hands on her, and once again there's a brief flashback. A room of zombies. Being carried away from them to safety. The memory rushing back of what happened before that makes her softly whine into the kiss, and as she feels him grasping at her dress, she simply breaks the kiss to tug it off over her head. And, surprise: she'd chosen to wear nothing underneath it at all.

One thing therapy absolutely had not cured had been his sex drive. It had always been high, but lately it seemed to be even worse. Maybe it was because of the dry spell, what with Laura leaving him. Who knew? That drive seemed to kick in the second he opened the door to Isabelle, because seeing her in that dress, aside from her looking completely beautiful, had given him just one thought. God, I'd love to fuck her. He was lucky he had the counter to move behind to hide the growing shape pressing against his pants, but from there it was a good date.

After dinner and things moved to the couch, it became difficult again not to let his mind - and eyes - wander, but Peter did his best to stay focused on her words and not the way the dress clung to her waist, and... other areas. Drinking some wine to distract himself, Isabelle's question also came with it an opportunity. One he didn't want to miss. "Oh, well..." He set aside the wine glass and took hers, putting them on the table. One arm draped across the back of the sofa and he leaned in closer. Fingers stroked her jaw and paused at her chin so he could gently place a thumb against her bottom lip.

"Simple. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

At this point, she has stopped wondering if he is 'him' or not, and decided she simply likes him no matter what. Asking him that question made her feel vulnerable, but in a way she had recently discovered she secretly likes. It was worth asking, too, because her heart races as Peter moves closer and touches her face so gently it makes her almost ache. She draws in a short breath, sinking into the moment wholly. Without a response except for the flushing of her cheeks in the dim light, she shuffles a little closer, her eyes drifting to his lips. Closer, closer... and finally they're kissing.

A spark lit inside him when she - Isabelle - accepted the date, closely followed by a wave of nervous energy. There was even something familiar about her touch and for a moment his hand lingered; holding onto hers a few seconds longer than would be considered normal. He pulled it away finally, and once they were exchanging numbers he went on his way. The rest of the afternoon was busy as he bought ingredients, cleaned the house and showered, all the while thinking about anything and everything.

She's out of my league. What if I tell her what happened to me and she freaks out just like Laura did? If something happens, how can I hide my body?

The forty-something year old pressed on despite the reservations, making stew and cheesecake for dessert, along with a couple of bottles of wine and candles to set the mood. He changed into his best pants and shirt, hair that had now fully grown back brushed back and neatly arranged.

She knows she should wear something fancy like a cocktail dress or something equally 'evening' like, but after bathing and doing hair and makeup, Isabelle found that her wardrobe contained nothing like this, and she'd settled for one of her sundresses instead, hoping it would do.

Once she arrives with her nerves fraying at the thought of seeing him, she smiles shyly when his door opens and she sees him all dressed up. "Hi," the blonde greets, stepping inside when invited. Getting a better look at him, she realizes he must be at least twenty years older than her, but there's not a complaint. He's still handsome and seems to have this energy that draws her.

The food is fantastic and Isabelle happily sips away on a few glasses of wine, eventually finding herself on the couch with him, candles illuminating the room. She raises a glass in a toast to the date, smiling around the rim of the glass as she takes a sip, voicing a curiosity. "So, um... what made you decide to ask me out back at the coffee shop?"

Her voice also sounded familiar, but he still couldn't place where or why. She looked confused and he began to regret the decision. "Sorry, you just look so familiar." Not wanting to keep repeating himself but also feeling like he wasn't supposed to just end it here, Peter pushed a little further. "Listen, I don't normally do this, but would you be interested in having dinner with me? I can cook for us. Oh-" He offered a hand in greeting. "I'm Peter."

Peter. It has to be him! But how? Maybe he just looks like the guy in the photo at the lab. People can look similar, can't they? She lets it go again, pushing away that strange feeling. It becomes much easier to do when he asks her out, making her beam brightly. There's some unwritten rule about not appearing too eager, but she forgets it at this moment. "...Sure. I'd love to." She takes his hand, ignoring the sheer electricity that seems to pass between them. "Isabelle. Nice to meet you."

After their separation, he'd been taken by the soldiers who apparently believed the girl's assertions that he was different. Back to being a test subject, given all sorts of injections and experiments. And they had somehow found a cure. It took months followed by countless weeks of surgeries and therapies to help him speak again. The memory of what had happened during his time as a zombie was fuzzy at best and absent at worst. He returned to his girlfriend, telling her everything, and when therapy was over and he was cleared for sexual activity again, she had changed her mind and walked out before he could take off his pants, saying it was too creepy and she couldn't get over what he used to be.

It was an unremarkable day of running errands and he'd taken a break to grab a coffee, sighing at the long queue that was taking forever to move. Eventually he was only a couple of customers away... but then he heard a voice that triggered recognition. He leaned to one side to glimpse the girl at the front, and as she turned and he saw her face and caught her scent there was an instant, strong reaction - fluttering stomach and heat shooting to his crotch, like his body knew something he didn't. She was gorgeous. The girl of his dreams.

Their eyes met and he couldn't look away, but then she was leaving. Knowing he had to do something, Peter stepped out of the queue and lost his place. "Hey! Uh, excuse me?" Once he got her attention he gave a friendly smile. "Sorry to bother you, but don't I know you from somewhere?"

His voice. If this is really him, she's hearing a voice she never thought she'd hear. Seeing a face she never thought she'd see. It can't be real. It just can't. When he asks that question, Isabelle tries to look innocent and even puzzled, shaking her head slowly. What is she supposed to say without sounding crazy? "I don't think so...?" She glances down at his body to see if there's a name tag or if he's holding a cup or anything with his name on, but nothing. He's handsome.

@terat0.

After days or weeks of being in that room with him, engaging in their shared primal desires over and over again, help had finally arrived. The sound of distant gunfire, then the door being knocked down by a miliary team. It had all happened so fast, but Isabelle remembers shouting at them that he wasn't dangerous, that he'd protected her. Of course, she'd missed out the sexual part. That was the last she'd seen of him after being whisked out of the room and taken to safety.

As months went on, the town had been evacuated and it was rumoured to have been nuked from site, although the military presence meant no one could check for sure. Life went on and she'd returned to her daily business in the next town over, writing articles for her magazine, trying to forget all that had happened; which began to feel more like a fever dream as time passed. Maybe it really had been.

One afternoon, Isabelle went to the closest coffee shop for a cocoa, and upon being handed the beverage and thanking the barista, she'd turned to leave... pausing on the spot when she saw someone who looked like... him. Truth be told, she'd seen a file on him in the room they shared together. A file with his picture, and his name. Peter. No. It can't be. She begins to walk again, trying to push the notion out of her mind.

It had been months or maybe more since he turned, and before that he was subjected to countless tests and experiments in lab captivity which means it had been at least a year since he'd last had sex or even self-pleasured. If he was still human, he would have called this well worth the wait. The relief that washed over him after finally getting to release inside a beautiful woman was almost painful, but short-lived when the other zombies returned, probably picking up the scent from her dress - or their sex.

He sat up, still buried inside her, and as the others came closer, he swiped a hand at them in warning to back away, his snarls furious and territorial; almost animalistic. The thinking was still utterly primal and subconscious. Pleasure. Mine. The zombies didn't come closer, but remained in place, just waiting for the opportunity to feast on her.

He sprang to action, demonstrating a somewhat greater thought process - withdrawing from her in spite of his body telling him not to, leaving a puddle of white cloudy liquid on the floor. One arm remained around her to keep her near and he shuffled quickly, carrying her to the safety of the next room.

#terat0 #* 🩶 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬.#* 🩶 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝.

There's no time to worry about whether she's infected now, or even pregnant, as it's suddenly time to worry about just staying alive again, and now relying on her unlikely companion to protect her. Or maybe this is it, and now it's over he'll let her be eaten, and maybe join in. But he doesn't, and as he protectively swats at the air to drive them away while still penetrating her, it's something that would've turned Isabelle on all over again; had she not had a bunch of monsters circling her.

The rest seems to happen in a blur, and she can only hold onto him as she's taken from the room and moved to another. The moment she's released, Isabelle barricades the door, dragging a metal chest across it, hoping they lose her scent again. "...Thank you." she speaks to him for the first time, realizing after that he won't understand. Maybe there's a way she can communicate that he will comprehend?

There's a small bed against a wall, the room resembling a medical bay. The blonde crosses the room and slides onto it, laying back, still fully unclothed. She then slowly parts her thighs again, his seed still dripping out of her; a silent invite for him to come to her. If no rescue is coming, and she's trapped here, she'd rather die doing this than meet a painful end in a futile effort to escape. I'm yours now. Take me.

There was no way for him to tell her this, and it was not a conscious thought now thanks to his infection, but when he'd been human, when he'd been Peter, he still would have wanted her. She would have been exactly his type. He would have kissed her and admired her and caressed her and gone down on her, all in addition to what they were doing now.

She shuffled beneath him and suddenly he felt more of her warm skin, which served his rapidly growing pleasure further. He stared at her through milky white eyes, monstrous face contorted in bliss like he would have before, although his grunts and groans sounded different now. Unbeknownst to him, in spite of his drive to do this, his seed didn't work the same way now and he could do this a million times and still not make her conceive.

The drive was still there though and only growing along with the mounting pleasure, and with a final howl he came, his thrusts stuttering as rope after rope of hot cum spilled forth into her heat. Energy sapped, he collapsed on top of her, needing some time to recover. That was when the sound of many approaching footsteps grew. The horde was coming back.

For a moment, Isabelle wonders how someone in his kind of state could retain this kind of ability; namely the ability to fuck so well. But she concludes that it's probably all primal nature; the same as eating, drinking or even breathing. She wishes she could have met him before this, to hear him speak and see his real face and know his name. Maybe he wouldn't have been interested, or maybe he was married or had a girlfriend before... but right now she's his and he's hers.

"Oh... oh..." Her thoughts are interrupted when a particular thrust of his cock sends an intense wave through her, and she knows she's on the precipice. She lets go of his shoulder to grasp her breast with one hand, tossing her head back to release a loud, long moan through gritted teeth so as not to alert the others, although it's loud anyway. She hears him moan over the thrumming of her racing heart, feels him twitch repeatedly inside of her, and they both go limp after, her chest rising and falling.

But then... footsteps! No. The horde comes back, bearing down on them, and Isabelle lets out a different kind of scream; that fear which had subsided in the face of ecstasy rushing straight back unpleasantly. She clutches his body, trying to get as close to him as possible so he masks her scent, just like before.

When he entered her and he felt the familiar slick of arousal coating his length, he went wild inside. Due to his altered state, he couldn't play games or pretend anything. Every movement and reaction was real and genuine. It was strange how he finally got to have the one thing hardwired into his DNA and yet it only made him even more desperate and crave more of it. Her pussy was making him weak at the knees and in the heat of their sex he lifted her close and laid her down on the floor, draping himself on her like a blanket, and continued his long and hard thrusts. Soon, he was going to reach that pleasure peak and fill her. Soon.

When he lowers her to the floor it seems effortless, and grants Isabelle the ability to let her thighs fall aside and allow him better access. Almost subconsciously, she lifts up her dress and peels it up along her body, discarding it to the side in order to be fully naked; feeling his still warm chest pressing against her breasts, which feature hardened nipples in the cold air.

Now fully into it and focusing, like him, on nothing else but the pleasure, she grasps his shoulders despite the dull, grey color of his flesh and the various scars and marks. She doesn't know his name, who he was, why he's here and what happened. They haven't spoken. Yet, she's experiencing something that, in the before world, would have taken far longer for her to be ready for. Now, any pleasure will do. But wait, she suddenly wonders, can the virus be sexually transmitted?

His hands got more and more desperate, speeding up as much as he could manage in his search. That warm, wet, constricting sheath that promised crashing pleasure followed by sweet relief. Finally, his hand stopped between her legs, where he could feel intense heat. That was it. There was something in the way, something cloth, and he ripped it away with ease, the band snapping and material falling to the floor.

One of his hands held her thigh apart and a bit elevated, and with her fully exposed to him it didn't take many attempts pressing his body against hers for his swollen, leaking cock to find and sink into that inviting heat; more satisfying than food ever was. "Arrrghhhh...!" A garbled groan erupted as the feeling, the only heaven left on this mortal earth, engulfed him. One thrust became two, became three...

It doesn't take long for Isabelle to realize what's going on, what he's trying to do. Oh no. He's trying to… oh, God. Her panties are torn away from her skin, and the young woman's breath hitches, her entire body tensing up. It's not like she can explain to him everything she would have normally said. This can't happen. It's not right. It's not safe. She's still human, and he's...

But he continues, finally raising her leg and Isabelle's eyes shut tight again, her head pressing back into the wall. Seconds later, she feels the intrusion, thick and hard. Only then does she realize… she's dripping wet. This makes it painless, allowing the male to drive himself deep to the hilt, making her gasp. Is she really here, with a zombie... and they're having sex?!

Thrusts begin in earnest, like he remembers how to do it from before he turned, and Isabelle can't help the soft moans and gasped breaths she begins to take, hoping the others won't hear her and return. At first she thinks it's entirely due to not wanting to be attacked, but as he continues, she realizes she's starting to enjoy it. It feels good, too good, and every brush against her g-spot gets her closer and closer.