Zombie Seed Floods the Human Doctor (1)

Betty’s gloved hands were buried in a gunshot wound when the fluorescent lights flickered hard. Blood welled up around her fingers and soaked the edge of the sterile drape. She didn’t stop. Sixteen hours on her feet. Half the night staff had called out. County General at 3 a.m. ran on leftover adrenaline and pure spite.

“Clamp.”

The nurse handed it over. Betty worked fast, cursing under her breath the whole time. The patient was young, maybe twenty-five, hole in the side big enough to put a fist through. She packed, clamped, stitched. Finished the last suture, stripped her gloves, and stepped back. He might live. She didn’t care either way.

Her lower back ached. Her feet burned inside the shoes. All she wanted was to clock out, drive home, open a bottle of cheap red, and use the vibrator she kept in the nightstand until she finally passed out. Instead the ER doors slammed open hard enough to rattle the glass.

Two security guards pushed a gurney through. The man on it wore heavy wrist cuffs and ankle straps. Grey skin. Black veins thick as rope ran down both arms and up the sides of his neck. His chest stayed completely still. No rise. No fall. Not a single breath.

“Found him outside the loading dock,” the older guard said. “Three infected people attacked a family near the fence. He put them down. Didn’t bite anybody. Didn’t chase. Just stood there when we got to him. We put him in restraints and brought him in. Figured you’d want a look before we call it in.”

Betty stepped closer.

His eyes were open. They locked on her face the second she moved into the bay. Not blank. Not hungry. Focused. Pupils tracked her mouth, the blood on her scrubs, the way her hands flexed at her sides.

She had seen plenty of zombies since the outbreak. The mindless ones lunged and tore and never stopped. This one just watched.

The thin hospital sheet tented hard over his hips. Thick. Obvious. It twitched once under the fabric.

Betty’s throat went dry.

“Clear the bay,” she said. “Possible contamination. Quarantine protocol. I examine him alone.”

No one argued. The floor was short-staffed and the power kept dipping. The guards and the remaining nurse left. The door shut. The bay went quiet except for the low hum of the overhead lights.

Betty stood over the gurney. Joshua’s eyes never left her. She reached for the sheet and pulled it back in one motion.

His cock lay heavy against his stomach. Massive. Grey skin stretched tight over black veins that pulsed slow and steady. Pre-cum already beaded at the tip, thick and clear. No heartbeat under the grey skin of his chest. No breath. But the cock was warm and hard and fully functional.

She told herself she was checking for infection or necrosis or whatever the fuck explained a dead man still getting this hard. She was lying and she knew it. Two years divorced. Longer than that since anyone had fucked her properly. She wanted to know if a dead man could still want her.

She looked at his face. His eyes were on hers, waiting. No struggle against the restraints. No snap of teeth. Just that steady, focused stare. When she didn’t move away, his cock twitched again, harder, the head flushing slightly darker. He wanted her hand on him. Clear as day.

Betty reached out.

Her fingers closed around the shaft. Warm. Heavy. Thicker than her wrist. The black veins shifted under her palm as she stroked once, slow, from base to head. Joshua’s hips jerked up into her grip. A low growl rolled out of his chest… not human, not animal, something in between. His eyes stayed locked on hers the whole time. He didn’t pull away. He pushed into her hand.

She stroked him again. Pre-cum smeared across her thumb. Her clit throbbed hard. Wetness already soaked through her underwear and the crotch of her scrubs. She could feel how swollen she was.

Betty yanked her hand back like she’d been burned. Her palm still tingled from the heat of him. She stared down at the thick, veiny cock still standing straight up, still leaking, still reacting to her even though the rest of him was dead.

His eyes dropped straight to the front of her scrubs, right between her legs. He knew exactly what she felt. He knew she was wet for him.

She turned and walked out. The door swung shut behind her. She pressed her back to the wall in the empty hallway, right outside his bay, breathing hard. Her hand still smelled like him. Her pussy clenched around nothing.

Then she heard it.

Metal snapping. One wrist cuff. Then the other. Then the ankle straps. One by one. Sharp, clean breaks.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps started inside the room. Slow. Steady. Coming straight toward the door.