“Alright,” Rainbow said, gruffly—huskily, in that juicy rasp that prodded Sonata’s nethers—as she shut the blinds and moved away from the window. She had a thick, girthy shotgun slung over one shoulder, which was clad in alluringly badass red leather—torn in many places, sliced to bits by the raw edge that was Rainbow “The Dash” Dash. “This is everything I could find at home.” She unzipped the duffel bag she’d tossed to the ground, revealing an array of polished guns. There were pistols, handguns almost as long as Sonata’s forearm, a submachine gun—ooo, ooo, no, wait, Rainbow was bending over to look at them, yes yes yes Sonata like wow that is a very low neckline—
Was it hot in there? Winter on a coastline shouldn’t have been hot. But Sonata was hot. Yes, like that, but also not like that. Swelteringly hot, burning up like—oh, poor Rainbow, in that leather she must’ve been so much worse—
“Well?” Rainbow had her arms folded beneath her plump, silky-smooth breasts, looking authoritatively at Sonata like she’d Done A Thing. “C’mon, dangerous expedition to our only hope, right? What did you bring?”
Like it was an exclamation point waiting for Rainbow’s sentence to finish, a zombie moaned outside the window. Not a sexy moan, not like Rainbow probably did when she caressed those guns—but hey, y’know, if zombies were anybody’s thing, Sonata wasn’t gonna kinkshame.
Rainbow was still looking at her.
“Oh, um…” Sonata sat upright, pausing to adjust her bikini top before pulling out her own bag, plopping it down onto the swaths of milky thigh her bikini bottom laid bare and unzipping it. “I have—what do I have?—ooo, ooo!” She beamed excitedly. “I was looking through that store down the road and oh my gosh they had the cuuutest nail polish.”
The zombie outside groaned again. From the distance, echoes of encroaching shambles pried at the windows seeking an entrance.
“… But I also have lipstick, and foundation, and…” Sonata flung this and that and the other out with reckless abandon—
“What.”
“I know, right? Hard to take it all in, I know. We’re talking makeovers for days here!” Sonata finished emptying her hefty pile of cosmetics. Then she grinned, smugly like she’d just banged a girl’s boyfriend in front of her.
Rainbow “The Dash” Dash, like the badass sex-kitten-turned-action-hero she was, regarded the cosmetics, really stared at them, witheringly like her eyes were fire and the cosmetics were those funny cartoon bombs that went boom when someone held a match to them but she was using her mind-matches instead.
“Do you like them?” Sonata said, giggling cutely, adorably-but-discreetly squeezing her already-well-flaunted cleavage together with her forearms, innocently making her eyes all bedroom and kisses and “just take me now, you magnificent blue marble-sculpted minx.”
Rainbow didn’t say anything at first. That was okay. Sonata could wait. Not everybody was that quick on the draw.
The zombies outside waved their wiggly zombie arms at the boarded-up “no zombies allowed” windows.
Rainbow turned to regard said zombies. Briefly, before she flicked her harshly commanding, sssexually dominant gaze—and it was a gaze, a real husky thrust of a look—the zombies groaned; Sonata rolled her eyes. Shut up out there, you’re ruining the mood!
“… You know there’re a lot of those things between us and that portal, right? And that they all want to eat you, right?” Rainbow said.
Sonata looked up at Rainbow and made the most wholesome pout ever made by a sex-crazed lunatic. “… Are you saying you don’t?”
It was at that moment that the zombies decided to stop mucking about, bludgeon the windows in, and advance on the debilitatingly sexy pair. Sonata was, for only the briefest of instants, struck by the raw, gripping terror of someone about to become a plump zombie snack.
But then Rainbow swept her up with a supple, sinewy arm, and then she noticed with eager eyes that the zombies were shambling forward.
And just like that, the lines between fear and excitement, pain and arousal, shattered. She wanted to run away screaming, and she wanted to gaze into Rainbow’s eyes and squeeze their heaving chests together. She almost huddled into a tiny ball and she almost creamed herself on the spot.
In. Out. Pump. Bang.
In. Out. Pump. Bang.
Hard. Fast. Boom. Spray.
Moan. Scream. Shamble. Disintegrate.
Sonata purred, basking in the glow of all the zombie gazes turned on her. Pressing her back to Rainbow’s chest, she bit her lip, moaning, reaching up to squeeze and knead one of her breasts.
Most people, it was important to realize, were fundamentally stupid. Cunts open for the fucking, as it were, except it was the universe that’d do the fucking, and it would be sad and bleak and miserable instead of sweaty and bouncy and exhilarating.
Rainbow “The Dash” Dash, daughter of “Rainbow ‘The Dash’ Dash’s Father” (Who had a name, but nobody thought it important enough to remember), was not stupid.
That might’ve been a lie—her nominal goals with Sonata, the only other survivor on the continent after Adagio and that Snapgab hussie had ran off to their private island, included not just “survive the zombies” but also “repopulate the planet.” Which Sonata had hoped meant she had a big, fat cock hidden in those scrumptiously tight pants of hers, but alas.
Point is, though. Most people, when presented with two choices—“Point the shotgun at the zombies” and “fingerblast the ever-loving fuck out of a hot chick”—would freeze. They’d pick one, then panic and pick the other. Or they’d commit to one—hesitantly—and disregard the other. Maybe they’d fear that their own feelings of sexual inadequacy—they were looking at Sonata; you know they felt that way—would be verified. Or maybe they would just be like aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh holy shit zombies.
Rainbow didn’t understand what hesitation meant—or commitment, for that matter, but that’s less cool so nobody talks about that.
And so it came to pass that, as the zombies shambled in through the doors, Rainbow held her shotgun steady with one hand, balancing the barrel on Sonata’s shoulder, while her other was shoved down the front of Sonata’s bikini bottom. Sonata squirmed, languid as if Rainbow’s fingers, nudging and prodding and pinching her towards a juicy orgasm, had drugged her. With the hand that wasn’t glued to her own chest, she pumped the shotgun every time Rainbow fired it, stroking the thick barrel before gasping when the loud cracks and metallic thud of the kicking barrel smacked against her ears and flesh.
Sonata tensed, quivered, clenched, shuddered—time ground to a halt as she clung desperately to her penultimate zenith of ecstasy. Every motion of Rainbow’s fingers, every plunge they took, every electric tweak of her clitoris, dragged her a tantalizing, infinitesimal inch closer to a desperately-craved peak.
Rainbow loaded the last shell into her shotgun, sighted, squeezed the trigger, rammed two fingers hard into Sonata.
Sonata’s orgasm tore through her like a meteoric tidal wave. It swamped her, dragged her thoughts down into a rushing torrent of sensation. She was enslaved, briefly, by the pleasure that emanated from her spasming vagina.
When she finally came down from that high, she was slumped back against Rainbow’s chest, breathing heavily, brushing sweat-matted hair from her face so she could turn and snuggle into the crook of Rainbow’s shoulder.
It was actually kinda yucky, since Rainbow had a bit of zombie goo on her, but there was nothing like a good fingering to make Sonata feel cuddly.
“Not the time!” Rainbow shouted, yanking her back.
Sonata blinked as she was pulled off her feet, looking over her shoulder in a daze.
Oh, right.
There were still zombies.
Whoops.
The one that Rainbow had just valiantly saved her from flopped to the ground; its legs had already been pulverized by the explosive payload of the very gun that had popped so many zombies’ dismemberment cherries and welcomed them with virile enthusiasm into the folds of the amputees.
Said zombie also had Sonata’s top dangling from its mouth. Sonata looked down at her naked breasts, which had a lovely sheen to them by then, and adjusted her posture to present them a bit more proudly.
Or she would have, if Rainbow hadn’t dragged her away, shouting instructions that went something like “fuck fuck fuck this shit what the fuck fuck this fucking son of a fucking fuck fuck fucker how do they fucking fuck this fuck—”
It would take a special kind of person to call Rainbow eloquent. Sonata, as far as she knew, was the first to do so, and that made her a bit smug, which made her puff out her boobs just a bit more.
Rainbow threw her down onto a bed—Sonata cheered on the inside—then darted away to close the door behind them—Sonata pouted—and dragged a bookshelf in front of it.
“What’re we doing in here?” Sonata asked, fluttering her eyelashes and brushing a coy finger feather-lightly across her lips.
The door shook. Sonata cocked—teehee, cock—her head. “What’s that sound?”
“Zombies? Outside? In the house?”
Sonata’s cheeks flushed. She was forgetting a lot of things that day. “Oh, right. What’re we going to do, then?”
Rainbow pressed her fingers to her temple, flitting over to a closet and rummaging through it. “We have to get to that portal. Tonight. It closes in… fuck, barely half an hour now, and there’s no other way we’re getting out of here. Think there’re any weapons in here?”
“Hmm…” Sonata tapped her chin thoughtfully, then ding, lightbulb! She swung her torso over the side of the bed, groped about beneath it, and grinned. “Hey, I think I found something that’ll help!”
Rainbow perked up, turned quickly. “Really? What is it?”
Sonata proudly help up a thick, dark purple dildo. “Whoever used to live here was suuuper naughty!”
Smack, went Rainbow’s palm against her forehead.
Whoosh, went the significance of the gesture a mile over Sonata’s head. “You’re probably super-stressed right now, and I’m super calm because you gave an awesome shlicking! So why don’t you come over here and—”
The door thudded again. Groping zombie fingers peeked in through small cracks where the door had just begun to show signs of damage.
Rainbow looked at the door. Then to Sonata—who waggled the dildo suggestively—then back to the door. She bit her lip, sweating as her eyes flicked from one sight to the other.
“Put some clothes on,” she said at last.
Sonata blinked.
“Dammit, Sonata, don’t make me say it again.” Rainbow’s voice cracked. “We need to think about our future here. If you don’t cover up, I’m going to walk over there and strap you down and go to town on you and you know what’ll happen? We’ll both die, and then our species—”
“Your species.”
“—my species dies out tonight. Please, Sonata.”
Sonata contemplated that thought.
Sonata groaned softly, her grip on the bedsheets loosening gradually as a crescendo of bliss gave way to a luminescent afterglow and Rainbow pulled the dildo out of her.
“Okay, you’ve had your quickie,” Rainbow said, clamping a hand over her eyeballs. “Meet me outside when you’re dressed!”
And then she backflipped out the window.
Sonata finished lowering herself down from the window, pausing to dust off the snug t-shirt she’d put on, then glancing around to scan her surroundings.
Zombies. Pretty much everywhere. A lot of them were funneling into the house she’d just left, mostly ignoring her. She wasn’t sure why, but she found they overlooked her more often than not. Adagio had said it had something to do with her brain; maybe hers was just so big and juicy the zombies were too shy and intimidated to try eating it?
She looked down at herself, at her tiny shorts and the t-shirt she’d wriggled into, wondering if she could tear the latter a bit, get some midriff or cleavage out there. Zombies loved bare midriffs, right? Ooo, or maybe they were more into butts and she just had to slink and saunter a bit more? She tended to fall over when she really went for it, but maybe it was worth a shot?
“What are you doing?” Rainbow whispered loudly, waving her over from across the street. “We need to go!”
Several zombie heads turned in their direction.
Sonata gasped delightedly, flashing them—not, like, actually flashing them, but ooo, idea for later—a cheerful grin and a happy wave. “Hi, zombies! Quick poll: how many of you wanna screw me?”
“AAAAAAHHHH it’s in my hair oh god it’s in my hair run faster run faster run—no no no, not through the bushes, I’ll—”
Rainbow, it turned out, didn’t fancy the zombies making eyes at Sonata—which was super possessive and objectifying of her in a really hot way that made Sonata go all tingly and stuff.
Rainbow, it also turned out, had found a crowbar.
Rainbow, it also also turned out, responded to the zombies’ advances by funneling her jealousy into her arm and chucking that crowbar like nobody’s business.
Zombies, it turned out, tended to splatter when crowbars went through their skull.
Zombies, it also turned out, didn’t take kindly to one of their kind being twatted in the head with a crowbar.
Which was not Sonata’s fault at all, really, but by that point she’d been too busy screaming at all the yucky zombie goop that’d splattered over her chest and face—and not in a hot way—to make a case that they should all shamble after Rainbow, not her.
And by that point, Rainbow, like the true hero she was, had already picked Sonata up and run off, so it was rather a moot point.
“Ewww ewww ewww—” Sonata batted at her gooified hair, cringing at the weird squelchy sounds it made and paling when her gaze fell on the jagged stump of her beloved left index fingernail. “Rainbow, please tell me you have a file!”
Rainbow badassfully dropkicked a zombie to the ground, landed on its face, used it like a skateboard for a few feet—complete with sexy kickflip—and still found time to discreetly—probably accidentally—push her boobs into Sonata’s face. “Not the time!” she shouted.
Sonata pouted. Rainbow did all kinds of other increasingly preposterous stunts, but the sense of ennui that came as she grieved the deaths of her manicure and hairstyle left her feeling so hollow she barely even noticed when Rainbow finally dove with her through the portal.
The kaleidoscopic ether finally gave way, transforming abruptly into rushing stony ground that greeted Sonata’s suddenly-scaly rump enthusiastically. She landed sprawled cutely in a dazed heap, blinking as she stared upwards at the blue sky above her.
She felt good all of a sudden. Sooo good—although maaaybe still a bit worked up and squirmy, now that she thought about it. She felt warm in a restless kind of way, not the languid comfort that basking in the sunlight would’ve brought her.
When she lifted her head and saw what was unmistakably the tip of a thick, juicy phallus, she let out a loud squeal of delight and flung herself at it headfirst.
Happy now!
It sharply yanked away before she could snuggle it, and her face hit the ground. She shook her head, looked up, down, sighted it again, giggled, pounced—hit the dirt again.
Sad again now.
She let her ears droop, starting thinking of rain-soaked kittens and lonely penises and all sorts of other things that made her sad and adorably misty-eyed and optimally conducive to prompting pity sex, then spotted the penis again and was just about to speak when she reached a startling realization.
Is it…
She peered at it closely, reaching out with an inquisitive hoof.
And sure enough, she felt a little tingle when she stroked it; it throbbed under her touch and made her feel all hot and stuff and she dragged her hungry eyes down the veiny shaft, grin slowly broadening as she got closer and closer to the base that fused seamlessly with her scaly loins.
Wow, sirens have come a long way since I was here, haven’t they? Sonata thought with a giggle, bending forwards and beaming with joy when she could contort herself just enough to press her lips to her brand-spanking-new bell end. Thank you, evolution!
And then she spied a pony Rainbow Dash a few yards away, shaking out her alluringly disheveled mane and righting herself with dazed, bleary eyes.
Sonata grinned. “Oh, Raaaiiinbooow… wanna see something cool?”
And let it never be said that The Rainbow “The Dash” Dash would let a horny maiden go unattended, even if she did first look pleadingly towards the portal and think that maybe she’d rather take her chances with the zombies.
