Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

Not Today - Joshua

As I lay on the floor of apartment 10C I felt helpless to the inevitable demise, but I was determined not to give up without a fight.

The zombie's snarls were deafening, its decaying muzzle mere millimetres from my face. I could feel the heat of its rancid breath and the cold, black bile dripping onto my skin, pooling at my neck. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. My arms trembled as I pushed against the white-furred corpse, its teeth snapping in frantic desperation to reach me.

Then came a sharp thud, like a hammer cracking against wood, followed by silence. The weight lifted as the zombie collapsed beside me, its body now still. Gasping for air, I opened my eyes and saw it sprawled on the ground, an arrow protruding from its skull.

My breaths were shallow and rapid, my chest heaving as I struggled to sit up. I turned toward the doorway, where a towering figure stood silhouetted against the dim light. A male fur in combat trousers and a black vest, his bow still raised, another arrow nocked and ready to fire. His brown eyes locked onto me with an intensity that made my stomach churn.

"Thanks," I managed to rasp, wiping a smear of the zombie's blackened bile from my neck.

The fur didn't respond, didn't lower his weapon. Instead, his gaze darkened, the arrow tip shifting slightly in my direction.

"Are you bit?" he asked, his voice cold and detached.

"No! No, I'm not bit," I insisted, shaking my head as panic surged through me. "It's just the blood. It didn't get me, I swear!" I rubbed furiously at the sticky black residue on my skin, desperate to prove my point.

But he didn't lower the bow. His paw shifted, and suddenly he was holding a handgun pulled from his belt, the barrel now aimed squarely at my chest.

"Get your top off," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I want to see for myself."

"I told you, I'm not bit!" I protested, my voice rising in desperation.

"Off. Now," he barked, pulling back the slide with a menacing click.

Reluctantly, I obeyed, pulling my shirt over my head with trembling hands. The cold air prickled my skin as I knelt there, exposed and vulnerable.

The fur's expression shifted slightly, a creepy glint appearing in his eyes. "Stand up," he commanded. "Take your trousers off."

"What? I'm not bit!"

"It wasn't fucking optional," he growled, taking a step closer and pressing the gun toward me.

My throat tightened as I stood, my mind racing for an escape plan. Slowly, I peeled off my joggers, the fabric pooling at my ankles. Now I was standing there in just my boxers, every instinct screaming that something was horribly wrong.

"Hands on your head," he ordered, gesturing with the gun.

I hesitated for a moment before complying, my arms trembling as I clasped my hands above my head. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at him, his eyes raking over me like I was a piece of meat.

"Please," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't shoot me. There's food here—you can take it. Just leave me alone."

But he wasn't listening. His paw reached out, brushing against my chest. I flinched at the touch, a shiver of disgust coursing through me.

"Well, what if I wanted something else?" he said, his tone dripping with malice, his paw running a line down my bare chest, I was pretty certain what he wanted, I just wasn't sure how I could say no with a gun pointed at me, there had to be a way out of this.