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

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: Treatment Gone Wrong II

That was the final straw that broke the dam.

"AHH-NGHHHHH!"

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Because right as her entire body was coiling up to launch her straight into the sun, Ghosty completely stopped.

He abruptly pulled his tongue back half an inch. Just enough to break physical contact with her swollen, wildly sensitive clit.

The cresting wave of her orgasm instantly collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane, leaving her suspended in a state of pure, unadulterated, agonizing blue-clit limbo.

Rebecca’s eyes flew open. Her hips reflexively jerked forward, frantically trying to chase his retreating snout.

"Wait—why did you—"

She caught herself mid-sentence, her face instantly exploding into a blush hotter than molten lead.

"I-I mean! Good! Excellent! Perfect timing!" she squeaked, her voice cracking violently as she tried to pull her hips back. "That was... a very professional pause! Thank you for respecting my boundaries!"

PUT IT BACK! PUT IT BACK RIGHT NOW YOU STUPID DOG! NO! REBECCA NO! DO NOT TELL THE ZOMBIE DOG TO PUT HIS TONGUE BACK ON YOUR CLIT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Ghosty let out a soft, infuriatingly playful huff against her bare crotch. He didn’t retreat, but he certainly didn’t give her the release she was dying for either. Instead, he casually began lapping up the thick, sweet pool of her own arousal that had leaked onto her inner thighs, making loud, obscenely wet slurping sounds.

Schloop. Schloop. Schloop.

"Stop—that’s—you can’t just drink it like that!" she whimpered, her thighs quivering like wet noodles. "And stop edging me! You don’t even know what edging is! You’re an animal!"

Then, he shifted his angle.

The broad, textured tip of his massive tongue pressed directly against her untouched virgin entrance.

And then, with a slow, deliberate push, he slid it inside.

Just an inch. Maybe two.

"AHHN—!"

The sudden, thick intrusion completely knocked the remaining wind straight out of her lungs. Her inner walls clamped down tight around the warm, muscular tongue, completely unused to anything larger than a tampon being in there.

Inside?! He’s inside me with his tongue?! Oh god, it’s so thick—

"D-don’t you dare—nhh—don’t put that in there!" she cried out, her voice a complete wreck of breathy pants and high-pitched moans. "Take it out! Take it... ahh... wait, fuck!"

Fuck. I said fuck. S.T.A.R.S. medics don’t say fuck. Good Catholic girls don’t say fuck. What is happening to my vocabulary?!

Ghosty began to pump his tongue. In and out. Slow, shallow thrusts going an inch or two deep, dragging those rough, soft papillae over every single hidden nerve ending inside her.

Schlck... schlck... schlck...

Every single time the intense friction brought her back to the precipice of a screaming climax, he would abruptly slow down or shift his focus, deliberately keeping her hanging on the very edge of the cliff without letting her fall over.

"Mnn—hah—you’re doing it on purpose!" she sobbed, her fingers uselessly scratching at his chitin armor. "You’re... you’re a sadistic, perverted monster!"

He curled his tongue upward, scraping the textured muscle directly against her front wall.

A localized supernova of pure heat exploded in her lower stomach.

"AHH—oh god oh god—"

Her heavy combat boots completely lost their remaining traction on the slick metal floor grates. Her knees buckled entirely. She began sliding backward down the web-covered wall, headed straight for the gross pile of squishy, liquefied spider guts on the floor.

"Whoa—whoa!"

In a total panic, Rebecca lunged forward. She threw her entire upper body straight over Ghosty’s broad, armored back, wrapping her arms tightly around his lower torso to keep from falling into the insect slurry.

Now she was draped completely over his back like a pathetic, bare-bottomed saddlebag. Her cheek was mashed against the hard, warm chitin plates near his spine, her hands hugging his midsection for dear life. Her bare, soaking wet thighs were still clamped tightly around his head, his snout firmly wedged between her legs, continuing his relentless, tormenting oral assault from below without giving her a single second of relief.

She could feel everything. The furnace-like heat radiating from his body. The deep vibration of his purr traveling through his ribs and directly into her chest. The hard, smooth texture of his chitin plates against her burning cheeks.

And worst of all, the absolute, undeniable fact that she was actively hugging the bioweapon that was currently eating her out.

And her hands—her hands that were desperately hugging his lower back—brushed against something hot and thick and distinctly not armor.

What is—

Her right hand closed around it instinctively, gripping for stability.

The shaft throbbed against her palm. Thick. Pulsing. Impossibly hot.

Oh. OH. That’s his—

She tried to let go.

Her fingers didn’t obey.

Let go let go let go LET GO—

But she couldn’t. Her grip was the only thing keeping her from sliding off his back and onto the disgusting floor. If she released him, she’d fall. And the floor was covered in spider guts and venom and god knows what else.

That was the only reason she was still holding his dick. Practicality. Self-preservation. Definitely not because it felt weirdly satisfying in her hand. Definitely not because every throb against her palm sent a matching pulse of heat between her own legs.

Ghosty let out a muffled groan against her soaking wet folds. The vibration traveled directly into her core.

"Ahh—stop making sounds! You’re not supposed to be enjoying this! This is a medical procedure! A completely clinical, definitely not sexual, medical—nhhh—procedure!"

He wasn’t listening.

He was thrusting his tongue deeper now, still not going more than an inch or two inside, but curling and twisting and doing things that should be illegal. His snout rubbed aggressively against her clit while his tongue stretched her tight, virgin entrance.

Schlck schlck schlck schlck—

"Ghosty... please... I can’t... it’s too much..."

Her hand tightened around his shaft. She could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his heartbeat traveling through the thick meat. A bead of hot fluid leaked from the tip and dribbled over her knuckles.

I’m holding it. I’m holding his... his thing. While he’s... while his face is...

The shame should have been overwhelming. It WAS overwhelming. But layered underneath the shame was something far more dangerous: a building, cresting wave of pleasure that was threatening to consume her entirely.

"Ngh... Ghosty... ahhn... I’m going to... I think I’m going to..."

No. Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. You are NOT going to orgasm from a dog’s tongue. You are NOT. You have more self-control than this. You graduated top of your class. You have willpower. You have—

He drove his tongue as deep as it would physically go—still only a couple of inches, but enough to press firmly against that spot inside her—and simultaneously ground his snout hard against her clit.

Rebecca shattered.

"AHH—OH GOD—FUCK—AHHHN!"

A loud, completely shameless scream tore out of her throat, echoing endlessly down the dark corridor. Her inner walls violently spasmed around his intruding tongue, clamping down with rapid-fire, frantic contractions. Her toes curled so hard inside her boots that she practically caught a cramp, and a massive, scalding flush of red heat completely engulfed her chest and neck.

"I hate you... I hate you... haaah... oh fffuck!"

She rode out the blinding, massive climax, her hips helplessly bucking and shivering against his terrifying face. Her hands fell limply over his shoulders, completely abandoning any pretense of trying to control the situation.

Ghosty did not pull away.

He patiently kept his heavy head wedged between her thighs, lazily lapping at her quivering, hypersensitive folds. Long, incredibly soft strokes that cleaned her thoroughly abused flesh while sending fresh, involuntary aftershocks shivering up her spine.

Slllrrrp... slllrrrp... slllrrrp...

"Stop... please stop... it’s too sensitive... I can’t..."

He finally withdrew his massive tongue, a thick, glossy bridge of saliva snapping heavily against her inner thigh.

Rebecca remained slumped completely over his broad back, her face pressed against the warm chitin near his spine. Her chest was heaving with ragged, uneven breaths that came in shallow little hiccups. Her limbs felt like someone had replaced her bones with warm pudding. Her brain was just... static. White noise. A television tuned to a dead channel.

That was... that just...

Nothing. She couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Her entire nervous system was still rebooting like a crashed computer, fans whirring, loading bar stuck at three percent.

She lay there for a long time. Seconds? Minutes? She had absolutely no concept of time anymore. Her cheek was mashed against his warm back, her arms dangling limply over his sides, her bare thighs still clamped weakly around his armored ribs. Every few seconds, another tiny aftershock would ripple through her, making her muscles twitch involuntarily.

He made me... I came from... with his tongue... inside my...

The thoughts kept trying to form and immediately dissolving, like trying to grab smoke with bare hands.

Slowly, painfully, feeling began to return.

Not the good kind of feeling.

The shame came first. A creeping, crawling sensation that started in her stomach and spread outward like ice water flooding her veins. Then came the anger—hot and sharp and directed entirely at the massive armored beast currently serving as her full-body support pillow.

"You," she breathed against his back, her voice raw and wrecked. "You absolute... you complete and total..."

She couldn’t even find the words. Her vocabulary had abandoned her entirely.

Jerk. Asshole. Bastard. Mutant pervert.

"You... you JERK!"

It came out pathetic. Weak. The kind of insult a kindergartner would find uninspired. But it was all she could manage with her brain still running on emergency power.

She lifted her head with enormous effort, glaring at the back of his skull with all the fury of a wet kitten.

"You couldn’t just... just lick the STUPID BRISTLES and STOP! That’s all you had to do! Just a simple, basic, completely non-sexual medical procedure! But NO! You had to go... to go all the way up and... and do THAT... with your stupid... your stupid TONGUE..."

Her voice cracked dangerously. She swallowed hard, fighting back the completely irrational urge to cry.

"I trusted you, you know! I was standing there, vulnerable, with my... my PANTS ripped, and I said ’please help me,’ and you just—you just TOOK ADVANTAGE—"

She slapped his armored back weakly. The impact produced a hollow clank and probably hurt her palm more than it bothered him at all.

"Ow. Stupid... stupid invincible... stupid CHITIN..."

She slapped him again. Same result.

"You are the WORST guard dog ever! You’re supposed to PROTECT me! Not... not stick your tongue inside my... inside..."

She couldn’t even say it. The sentence died in her throat, replaced by a strangled noise of pure mortification.

Her face was burning so hot she was genuinely worried she might melt through his armor plates from contact alone. The memories were playing on loop behind her eyelids in devastating high-definition—his snout pressing against her, his tongue curling inside her, the sounds she’d made, the way her hips had moved on their own, the screaming—

Oh god, the screaming. I SCREAMED. Like a—like someone in a—that wasn’t a pain scream, that was a—a—

She buried her face back into his spine with a groan of absolute despair.

"I hate you," she mumbled against his warm plates. "I’m never going to be able to look at myself in the mirror again. Every time I close my eyes, I’m going to see your stupid smug face looking up at me from between my—"

She bit down on the chitin hard. Her teeth scraped uselessly against the impenetrable biological armor.

"WHY IS EVERYTHING ON YOU INVINCIBLE?!"

Her hand flopped down his side, trailing uselessly over the smooth plates. Everything was armor. Armor and chitin and scales and more armor. She couldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t punish him. She couldn’t even give him a bruise to remember her by. (A/N: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

But then her questing fingers brushed against something else entirely.

Something hot. Something smooth. Something that was definitely NOT armored.

Her hand wrapped around his shaft.

Ghosty’s entire body went rigid beneath her.

"Yeah," she hissed, a dangerous note entering her wrecked voice. "That’s right. I found it. The ONE part of you that isn’t covered in freaking tank plating."

She squeezed.

Not gently.

"THIS," she snarled, giving the thick meat a punitive wrench that made his hind legs scramble against the floor, "is for my pants! THIS is for my underwear! And THIS—"

She twisted her grip like she was trying to open a stubborn jar of pickles.

"—is for putting your tongue WHERE IT DID NOT BELONG!"

Ghosty let out a high, strangled whimper that she had absolutely never heard him make before. His claws scraped against the concrete. His tail tucked between his legs. His massive armored body actually trembled.

Suffer, she thought with a petty, vindictive satisfaction that she would absolutely not apologize for. You made me make those noises. You made me feel those things. Now YOU get to feel something unpleasant.

She gave the shaft another cruel squeeze, feeling it throb against her palm despite the rough treatment.

"Oh, you’re still hard?! SERIOUSLY?! I am literally torturing you right now and you’re STILL—"

She released him with a noise of absolute disgust, wiping her hand against his side like she could scrub away the contact.

"You are unbelievable. You are genuinely, certifiably, the most degenerate creature I have ever encountered in my entire life, and I once treated a guy who got a traffic cone stuck in his—you know what, never mind, that’s not important."

She slid off his back, her boots hitting the grates with a hollow clang. Her legs immediately buckled, and she had to grab his flank to keep from face-planting.

"The WORST," she repeated, steadying herself and yanking her damp underwear back into place with shaking hands. "The absolute WORST."

Ghosty remained frozen in place, his tail still tucked, his ears flat against his skull. He looked almost... chastened.

Almost.

Then his tail gave one tiny, involuntary wag.

"STOP BEING HAPPY!" she shrieked, smacking his armored flank. "There is NOTHING happy about this situation! You are being PUNISHED! This is PUNISHMENT! You don’t get to enjoy PUNISHMENT!"

She retrieved her shotgun from where it had fallen against the wall, racking a shell with more force than strictly necessary. The mechanical clack-clack echoed through the corridor like a gunshot.

"I am never speaking of this again," she announced to the empty hallway. "Never. Not to anyone. Not to my teammates. Not to a therapist. Not to my diary. This did not happen. Nothing happened. I got bit by a spider and I treated the wound. That’s the whole story."

She pointed an accusatory finger at Ghosty, who had finally un-tucked his tail and was watching her with what she could only describe as infuriatingly patient amusement.

"And YOU. You are going to walk ahead of me. At least ten feet. Where I can’t see your stupid face or your stupid... your stupid ANYTHING. And if you so much as LOOK at my thighs, I will find a way to make you regret it. I don’t know how, but I WILL find a way."

Ghosty let out a soft chuff that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"This isn’t funny!" she snapped, adjusting her shredded pants in a futile attempt to cover her exposed leg. "I am a S.T.A.R.S. officer! I have DIGNITY! I had DIGNITY before you came along and—and VIOLATED every single boundary I have!"

She pushed past him, stomping toward the heavy steel door at the end of the corridor.

"Just... just lead the way to the lab or whatever. Find the next puzzle. I don’t care anymore. I just want to find evidence against Umbrella and get out of this nightmare facility and take approximately forty-seven showers and burn these clothes and never think about any of this ever again."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

She walked faster, pretending the sting in her eyes was from the chemical fumes and definitely not from anything else.

Ghosty padded along behind her, his claws clicking a steady rhythm against the concrete.

She could feel his eyes on the back of her exposed thigh.

"I SAID TEN FEET!"

He didn’t move back.

She didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.

Just find the lab. Get the evidence. Get out. Deal with the... the favor... later. Much later. Preferably never.

Definitely never.

[To Be Gooned]

[Image]

Do you know I had made an mistake last Chapter? So basically she had gotten her orgasm too early cuz I thought was what happened when I seperated the originally joint Chapter into 2, and as such, I had to bandage an edging session at the start <_<

And about the r18 and plot progression, honestly I would say the problem is with the og RE Zero game. It has essentially no strong cinematic plot to be honest. It essentially just explore the base by solving puzzle, fight 2 major bosses, explore a bit more, fight the final boss.

That’s it, the whole story boils down to merely that much. And we are nearly even halfway done with it. If I describe the puzzles to extend the non-nsfw plot, it would just be boring so I had chosen to use rebecca-mc relation progression as the focus instead.

Later on, when plot of spencer mansion happens, or of racoon city, we will have more cast members and on going plot to make things interesting.

Read advanced Chapters at patreon and support the gooning of the author, for a better, whiter future :)

link: patreon.com/HornyShitler

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