Resident Evil: The Dead Must Breed (Zombie/Monster Evolutions Fanfic)

Chapter 30: Chapter 31: Revelations

"Unbelievable."

Rebecca slammed the heavy, leather-bound journal shut, sending a puff of century-old dust into the dim air of the study. She wiped a smudge of dirt—hopefully just dirt—off her cheek and glared down at the book.

Ghosty was sprawled out on a ridiculously expensive, albeit moth-eaten, Persian rug. He was aggressively scratching his nonexistent left ear with a heavily armored hind leg, his massive purple dick blissfully tucked away in its sheath for once.

"I mean, seriously, this is just... it’s like a bad soap opera," she huffed, gesturing wildly at the journal. "This entire facility wasn’t just a training center. It was a cover for some kind of massive, illegal biological testing ring. This guy, James Marcus, and some other corporate suit named Spencer found something called the Progenitor virus. Marcus started mixing it with leech DNA to make biological weapons. And they absolutely hated each other."

Ghosty stopped scratching, let out a loud, vibrating fart that smelled faintly of rotting centipede, and rested his chin on his front paws.

"There’s also a mention of a researcher named Wesker," she muttered, tapping her chin.

Could that be Captain Wesker?

No, that’s completely ridiculous. Captain Wesker is a chain-smoking military hard-ass who wears sunglasses at night. This Wesker guy is a virology nerd writing research papers on mutant leeches. Totally just a coincidence.

"Anyway," she continued, pacing in front of the massive desk, "it sounds like Marcus was getting ready to snitch to the Umbrella executive board about Spencer stealing his research. But the diary just ends abruptly. They totally murdered him to cover up the leak. So many people are dead right now, turning into flesh-eating monsters, all because some rich old men couldn’t share their gross bug-science patents."

She flipped the book back open, tracing a gloved finger down a yellowed page. Her eyes softened slightly.

"He mentions experimenting on mammals here... specifically dogs. Taking normal domestic breeds and pumping them full of mutagens." She looked over at Ghosty, a brief, fleeting wave of genuine sympathy washing over her. "Is that what happened to you? Were you just some normal, innocent pet before these assholes turned you into a..."

Her brain instantly supplied the ultra-HD memory of a massive, vein-covered eight-inch meat-missile aggressively plowing through the valley of her bare tits. The phantom sensation of thick, hot mutant cum soaking her sports bra violently short-circuited her empathy.

Never mind. Zero pity. You are a perverted freak of nature and you enjoyed every second of that.

"The worst part is what isn’t in this stupid book!" she shrieked, her voice pitching up in frantic, adorable panic. "There is absolutely zero technical data on transmission vectors! Like, um, how contagious is this stuff, really? Does it transmit through... you know... extensive physical contact? Or, like... bodily fluids being aggressively deposited onto someone’s... upper torso?"

Ghosty let out a soft, dopey chuff, his tail giving a single thump against the rug.

"I’m talking about your—your, um, mess!" she stammered, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato. "There’s no medical literature in here about what happens if a girl accidentally ingests a massive amount of mutated, like, genetic material! It just talks about leeches!"

She aggressively flipped to the very last page, desperately scanning the faded ink for any mention of post-bukkake viral symptom management. Nothing.

"Fine. Okay. He mentions a lower-level laboratory facility below the training center," she declared, tossing the diary onto the desk. "If there’s actual scientific data down there, we’re going to find it. I am going to collect every single piece of evidence, drag it out of this nightmare, and bring Umbrella to justice."

She planted her hands on her hips, looking down at her armored companion with absolute determination.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Ghosty. Never trust corporate suits."

The hellhound let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn that displayed three rows of razor-sharp teeth. He blinked his milky eyes at her, letting out a breathy whine that very clearly translated to: Are we done here? Can we please go find more things to murder?

Rebecca just sighed, adjusting the heavy strap of her grenade launcher.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s go."

[Alex POV]

We spent the next twenty minutes backtracking through the musty corridors to what Rebecca optimistically called the projection room, though the small space was really just a dusty closet with delusions of grandeur.

I lounged by the doorway, keeping my ears perked for the telltale shuffle of wandering corporate zombies while enjoying the frankly excellent view of Rebecca bent over an antique film projector, her tight uniform trousers stretching beautifully over her rounded ass and making the Apex Breeding Urge purr happily in the back of my skull.

She was fumbling with a couple of ancient microfilm reels, muttering under her breath about outdated security measures and corporate paranoia.

After several minutes of aggressive mechanical clicking and what sounded like barely suppressed cursing, she finally managed to slot the films into place and fire up the projector.

A grainy black-and-white image flickered across the opposite wall, showing what looked like a seating chart for a conference room.

"Okay, so if I match the microfilm image to the actual seat layout..." She squinted at the projection, tapping her chin with a dusty finger. "That should give me the coordinates for whatever hidden switch they’ve got rigged up in there."

She eventually pried an MO Disk out of the machine’s dusty guts and clutched it like she’d just discovered the Holy Grail.

We hauled ass back to the conference room, where she made a beeline for the lectern at the front.

I watched her fingers fly across the ancient keyboard, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

She looked incredibly cute when she was being a nerd.

"Two-D. Seat Two-D," she announced triumphantly, jogging over to the second desk in the fourth row.

She dropped to a crouch and felt around under the lip of the wood until something clicked deep within the floorboards.

The heavy steel armored doors at the back of the room let out a loud hydraulic hiss and groaned open with all the dramatic flair of a forbidden tomb unsealing.

"Ha! Take that, corporate security!" She pumped her fist in the air, grinning like she’d just aced a final exam.

I trotted up beside her and gave her hip a congratulatory bump with my armored snout.

She reached down and scratched behind my ear, which would’ve been great if I actually had ears and not just calcified nubs. "Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome for solving the puzzle, boy. Let’s just keep moving and stay close. This hallway gives me the creeps."

We stepped through the steel doors into a long, dim corridor that smelled like mildew and bad decisions.

The temperature dropped about ten degrees, and the air carried a nasty, stagnant stench that completely overpowered even my bakery-fresh pheromone aura.

Rebecca un-slung her shotgun, her grip tightening on the wooden stock.

I could feel her tension radiating off her in waves, but I was busy pulling up my internal HUD to check my shiny new bank account.

[Evolution Points: 1,537 EP]

The Centurion centipede had been an absolute jackpot, dropping nearly a thousand points when I’d slurped up its massive bulk. I’d figured out that EP wasn’t just about rarity or tier classification. Size and biomass played a huge role, which made sense from a thermodynamic standpoint but was still annoying when I wanted to optimize my grinding strategy.

I didn’t know the exact prices for future high-tier forms like the Hunter or the Tyrant since I hadn’t encountered them yet, but I expected them to be astronomically high.

Still, the gacha wheel was right there, spinning in my mind’s eye, taunting me with its neon glow and obnoxious slot-machine jingle.

Three spins would be reasonable, which was practically a fiscally conservative choice.

I stopped in the middle of the corridor and sat back on my haunches.

Rebecca noticed immediately and turned to look at me. "Ghosty? What’s wrong?"

I was just feeding my crippling gambling addiction, so she would have to give me a second.

I mentally reached out and slammed the big shiny button.

[LOTTERY ACTIVATED - 100 EP]

[Remaining EP: 1,437]

The wheel spun in a dizzying blur of colors and increasingly questionable icons.

It slowed, ticking past each icon with agonizing deliberation before finally stopping.

[Reward Acquired: Item - Mysterious Creature Form Fragment (1/5)

Description: A fragment of crystallized evolutionary potential. Collect all 5 fragments to unlock a random Creature Form from across the multiverse. Warning: Results may vary from "disappointingly lame" to "holy shit that’s broken."]

A glowing crystalline shard materialized in my spatial inventory, pulsing with a weird iridescent light.

A form reward from the lottery was a first, and it was a lottery within a lottery.

My brain immediately started running through possibilities, hoping for something badass.

A Facehugger would be hilarious, wrapping around Rebecca’s face and shoving an ovipositor down her throat, but that form was way too small and fragile for actual combat.

Maybe a full-grown Xenomorph with acid blood and that sexy biomechanical aesthetic would be incredible.

Or maybe a Volatile from Dying Light, since those things could parkour like crackheads on meth and rip through concrete like tissue paper.

I filed the fragment away for future speculation and hit the button again.

[LOTTERY ACTIVATED - 100 EP]

[Remaining EP: 1,337]

The wheel spun, slowed, and stopped on a tiny pixelated cowboy hat.

[Reward Acquired: Item - Resident Evil Zero Exclusive Costume: Rebecca Chambers - Cowgirl Outfit]

Description: Yeehaw, partner. Includes: denim short-shorts, leather vest with fringe detailing, red bandana, and authentic cowboy hat. Warning: May cause spontaneous line-dancing, increased morale among undead companions, and vulnerability to zombie bites due to excessive skin exposure.]

A full 3D rotating model of Rebecca wearing the outfit appeared in my mind.

The denim shorts were so incredibly small they might as well have been denim panties, and the leather vest was basically a fancy bra with tassels.

I decided not to give her this yet, since she’d get torn apart by the first stray zombie that got handsy.

Maybe after I’d thoroughly marinated her insides with enough antibodies to survive a nuclear strike, she could rock the cowgirl aesthetic.

I mentally shoved the costume into storage and hit the wheel one last time.

[LOTTERY ACTIVATED - 100 EP]

[Remaining EP: 1,237]

The wheel spun faster than before, the icons blurring into an incomprehensible mess of colors before slamming to a halt on a pink, throbbing heart icon that looked vaguely moist and extremely suspect.

[Reward Acquired: Trait - Perverted Luck (Unique)

Description: ████████

[A stiff dick has no conscience, but it always finds the path of least resistance."]

I had no description or helpful tooltip explaining what kind of degenerate bullshit I’d just equipped, only a cryptic quote.

[Trait equipped automatically.]

I was sure this wouldn’t backfire in a spectacularly horny way.

"Ghosty, seriously, are you okay?" Rebecca was crouched in front of me now, waving her hand near my face. "You’ve been staring at nothing for, like, two whole minutes. Are you having a stroke?"

I shook my head and gave her a reassuring bark.

We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing off the damp concrete walls.

The stench got worse the further we went, smelling of stagnant water and rotting organic matter.

My ears twitched, picking up faint sounds up ahead of wet squelching and hundreds of tiny writhing movements sliding over each other.

Rebecca heard it too, raising her shotgun with her finger sliding to the trigger. "What is that noise? It sounds like... I don’t even know what that sounds like."

The thing oozed around the corner into view.

It looked vaguely like an old man in a tattered brown suit, shuffling forward with jerky, unnatural movements.

I knew exactly what this was from the game, and I mentally dubbed it the Marcus Leech Zombie.

His skin was composed of a writhing mass of thick, glistening black leeches packed together so tightly they formed a grotesque approximation of human anatomy.

The head tilted at an unnatural angle, and then it split vertically.

The entire face peeled open like a fucked-up organic flower, revealing a tooth-lined maw that shrieked with the collective hissing of a thousand angry bloodsuckers.

"Oh, what the—what is that?!" Rebecca backpedaled, almost losing her footing. "Are those—those are leeches! That’s a person made of leeches!"

She fired, the shotgun blast tearing a massive chunk out of the creature’s shoulder and spraying black parasites across the hallway.

But the leeches just writhed and reformed, the ones at the edge of the wound flowing inward to fill the gap.

These bastards were dense and sticky, clinging to each other with the desperate tenacity of a drowning man grabbing a life raft.

I launched myself at the main body, jaws wide.

I clamped down on its torso and wrenched my head sideways, ripping out a massive mouthful of squirming parasites while my absorption tendrils erupted from my gums to vacuum them down.

The taste was exactly as awful as I remembered, tasting of stagnant swamp water and bitter, iron-rich blood.

Each bite only carved out a small chunk, and the rest of the colony clung together, reforming faster than I could tear it apart.

Rebecca kept firing, blasting holes in the creature, which scattered stray leeches across the floor.

A wet plop sound echoed from directly above her head.

Two fat, oversized leeches dropped from a crack in the ceiling, falling like disgusting fleshy raindrops.

One landed on her shoulder, which she frantically swatted away, but the other landed high on her right thigh.

"AH! GHOSTY!"

I bit down on the main body’s neck, twisted with all the force my mutated musculature could manage, and ripped the entire core cluster apart in a spray of black ichor, instantly liquefying the rest of its core mass into glowing red sludge.

[Evolution Points earned: +150 EP]

I whipped around and sprinted toward Rebecca, crushing stray leeches under my claws as I crossed the hallway.

The fat leech on her leg was already chewing through the durable canvas of her tactical trousers, its circular rows of teeth burrowing into the fabric.

It was squirming higher, crawling toward the soft, vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh.

I felt a sudden surge of possessive jealousy, mixing with genuine protective rage.

Nobody touches her thighs except me.

I charged, dropping my head low, and carefully clamped my jaws around the fat leech.

It had already chewed a decent-sized hole in her trousers and was halfway inside, latched onto both the fabric and her skin underneath.

I pulled back slowly, trying to be extremely cautious not to injure her with my sharp teeth.

But the leech squirmed upward, clinging desperately to the interior seam of her trousers and dragging itself deeper into the gap.

I tightened my grip and yanked harder to get the parasite off her.

RIIIIIIIP.

The leech came free, crushed between my molars, but a massive patch of her trousers came with it.

I spat the pulped parasite onto the floor and extended a tendril to absorb the remains, then froze.

Rebecca was staring down at her leg, her mouth hanging open in sheer shock.

A huge, jagged section of her right pant leg was completely gone, leaving a massive patch from her upper thigh including her inner thigh completely bare, stretching all the way up to her black uniform panties.

Pale, smooth skin was on full display.

The torn edges of the fabric framed her leg, making the exposure feel incredibly hot and enticing.

My new Perverted Luck trait was already working its magic, and the effect was spectacular. I stared, my tongue slowly lolling out of my mouth as a thick string of drool splattered onto the concrete.

"Are you—seriously?!" Rebecca shrieked, her voice cracking with a mixture of horror and disbelief. She slapped both hands over the massive tear, as if she could somehow hold the shredded fabric together through sheer force of will. "Stop staring! Your eyes are practically glued to my thigh!"

Her face was turning a spectacular shade of crimson, a blotchy blush that spread from her cheeks all the way down to her neck.

"First, you completely ruin my sports bra with your... your mess, and now you destroy my only pair of trousers?! Do you have some kind of personal vendetta against my S.T.A.R.S. uniform?! I’m basically walking around half-naked now! My entire leg is just... out for the world to see!"

I took a slow, deliberate step closer, the sound of my claws clicking on the concrete echoing in the tense silence. I let out a low, rumbling purr deep in my chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated appreciation for the view.

Before she could back away, I leaned forward and slowly dragged my huge, wet tongue up the entire exposed length of her inner thigh, savoring the taste of her soft skin and the faint, salty tang of her sweat. It was delicious. Ten out of ten. Would definitely lick again.

THWACK.

Her fist slammed into my skull with a hollow metallic clang that probably hurt her knuckles more than it hurt me.

"BAD! NO! NO LICKING!" she yelled, her voice pitching up an octave. "What is wrong with you?! Those are my—that’s my leg! You can’t just—"

She took a sputtering breath, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger directly at my snout. "I’ve met police dogs, hunting dogs, even those yappy little things rich people carry in their purses. None of them are as completely, fundamentally perverted as you are! You are a menace!"

I whined pathetically, tucking my tail between my legs and giving her my best sad-puppy eyes. The effect was probably less "aww, poor puppy" and more "oh god, the skinless hellhound is trying to emote," but the effort was there.

She groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure exasperation, and buried her face in her hands. "I swear to god, if we run into any more leeches, you’re staying at least ten feet away from me at all times. I mean it."

No promises, Becca. The gacha gods have spoken, and they’re clearly on my side.

I gave my tail a happy wag and waited for her to finish her flustered muttering so we could keep moving. She was just so damn cute when she was angry.

[To Be Continued]

Its the D Day, so you gotta throw your balls, wait, i mean your stones to the story!

And as per feedback of people from the past Chapters, I decided to do the most controversial thing i could do and just walked the middle road /s

The dawg is not gone, but neither is the other form. Talking about which, why don’t you guess which form has he taken?

Also any suggestions for the mysterious form fragment we got?

That aside, as always, read advanced Chapters at patreon and support the gooning of the author, for a better, whiter future :)

link: patreon.com/HornyShitler

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!