Steve Apocalypse Outfit Novels & Stories

" He swiftly covered Adrienne's body with the blanket. "I'll wait here, and I won't let you touch her," Steve declared, his voice filled with authority and resolve. However, before he could say another word, a deafening gunshot rang through the room. Steve collapsed to the floor, blood staining his clothing. "You can watch me from the floor," he smirked in a sickening display of dominance, as he revealed his arousal, prepared to take advantage of Adrienne's vulnerability yet again. ***

he said, nodding toward the mannequin in the center of the room. The dress was a masterpiece of architectural malice. It was black—so deep it seemed to swallow the light—with a structured bodice that looked like armor and a slit that reached dangerously high. It wasn't the dress of a debutante; it was the dress of a woman who intended to start a war. "I told you," Steve said, stepping closer. "I don't like the cream you were wearing. It made you look like someone who wanted to be forgiven. This... this makes you look like someone who has already passed judgment."

After I was done, I quickly returned to my hostel to open up my box of bottled water. This was the big surprise I prepared for everyone. I wanted to see if they could survive the apocalypse with whatever was in the box, which was more than twenty bottles of hot sauce.

“We don’t have all day. The sun is already coming out and we still have to gather our warriors for today’s movement.” Rhea walked up to the freezer slowly and stared at the body of Steve that was still struggling to get its freedom from its temporary prison. “Melias Sidente supelè cristis. Rhea Damon.” Rhea watched as Steve shrieked and held his head in his hands in pain. A white light burst out from his being shooting the roof of the building open and illuminating the whole world for a split second. Everywhere went quiet immediately after and Layla tapped Rhea on the shoulder.

Steve found a parking space and pulled into it. After feeding the parking meter, he stripped off his tank top revealing his well defined chest and pulled off his biking shorts and stored his clothes in a knapsack, throwing it over his shoulder. Steve stood clad only in a small brief bathing suit, proudly showing the world his muscular body and massive bulge. He grabbed her hand and they set off walking down the sidewalk two perfect specimens of the sexes. Everywhere they went, people stared, many simply stopped what they were doing and openly ogled either Steve or Beth and sometimes both.

I had underestimated just how shameless they were. She continued, "Each of them is built like a tank. It's the end of the world. Why would they settle for taking orders from you? Even if you have all the money in the world, what does it matter?" It hit me all at once. Victoria was right. In the apocalypse, no one wanted to be under someone else. The man whose arm had been snapped on the first day cursed beside her. His resentment was obvious. "Stop wasting time talking to him. I say we break the door down right now. I'll cripple him myself and throw him out to the zombies."

Mom sighed as Steve got dressed. "Ha! You loved it...slut!" Steve laughed. Mom didn't respond. She knew it was true. Once Steve was dressed, we quietly shook hands with wide smiles. He put his black ski mask back on and walked to the side of the bed. "I'll be needing this back," he said as he unzipped and pulled the hood from her head. Her normally perfectly coifed blonde hair was matted and tousled. It looked as if she'd been fucked all night. "Thanks for the fuck, slut." "Fuck you, you bastard." She wanted to thank him, too. But knew she couldn't.

Steve bellowed, claws flashing, his command rising over the bedlam, his frame tensed and primed to fight. “What’s going on?” Sarah yelped, her composure cracking as she scrambled to follow Steve’s lead, but I caught the raw fear in her gaze, her hands quivering, her calm shattering. The monkeys morphed right before us, their shapes twisting into rogues, eyes igniting with a sickly, malevolent blaze, their pelts stretching into blotchy, pallid hide. “Bolt, now!” Steve roared, his shout nearly swallowed by the rogues’ snarls, their talons scraping the stone as they surged.

I knew I could have him then and there but I wanted to torture him a bit first. I walked over to him. I had on a pair of way too short shorts and a white tee shirt. My skin was still a bit damp when I had gotten dressed and I hadn’t dried my hair. Needless to say, my dark areolas were perfectly visible as I approached Steve. I reassuringly put my hand on his shoulder, “Steve it’s not a big deal. I don’t mind that you saw me playing with myself.” I knelt in front of him “In fact I kinda like it.”

Rowan's territory was indeed remote and desolate, but it was nothing like I'd imagined. Word had spread that Rowan and I were coming, because many beastmen crowded the roadside holding gifts they wanted to present to us. They all looked well-fed and healthy, their eyes bright. Even the little ones and elderly were plump and rosy-cheeked. Since the apocalypse began, all the clans had struggled to survive. Food was barely enough to get by, and many older beastmen had starved to death. Those who survived were skin and bones. However, everything was completely different here.