From ii361@cleveland.Freenet.Edu Mon Apr 14 22:35:12 1997
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From: ii361@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Ray N. Velez)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: A+ Story: Last Man On Earth
Date: 15 Apr 1997 02:35:12 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
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Message-ID: <5iuph0$pg6@alexander.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Reply-To: ii361@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Ray N. Velez)
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Subject: THE LAST MAN ON EARTH: Web 4/5 (m/ffff, f-mast)
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@Copyright 1995.  This document cannot be sold or altered without written 
permission from the author.  However, it can be distributed as long as all 
copies contain this notice.

THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES AND 
REFERENCES.  PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW ANYONE UNDER THE 
AGE OF EIGHTEEN TO VIEW ITS CONTENTS.



@Copyright 1995.  This document cannot be sold or altered without
written permission from the author.  However, it can be distributed as 
long as all copies contain this notice. 

THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES AND 
REFERENCES.  PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW ANYONE UNDER THE 
AGE OF EIGHTEEN TO VIEW ITS CONTENTS.





****
Dedicated to all those who've ever been given the phrase "I wouldn't go 
out with you if you were the last man on Earth..."


THE LAST MAN ON EARTH: Black Widow's Web 1/5 
(f/f, m/f, f-mast)
by Night Writer

Part One - Through the Gates

	The city straddled the edge of the Nuclear Zones, buffeted by 
an endless duststorm.  The high lead-shielded walls protected the 
ramshackle buildings and towers inside from the howling winds, 
forming an oasis in the radioactive desert.
	On one of the towers at the corners of the wall, a guard-
woman stood.  She scanned the swirling horizon with a pair of 
infrared goggles, searching for traces of heat that betrayed a new 
visitor.
	She found one.
	The motorcycle seemed to form from the dustclouds themselves.  
A figure could be seen riding it, sheathed in heavy coats and scarves
so that no hint of its form could be seen.  The motorcycle carried its 
rider to the front gate, its engine descending from a roar to a dull purr.
	"Who goes there?" the guard shouted into a megaphone.
	The stranger spoke with a deep voice that was carried by the 
winds.  "I'm just a traveller.  Need to stock up on some supplies."
	"Ever been here before?"
	"No.  I don't even know what here is."
	"Then welcome to Estrogen City.  No fighting, no killing, no 
stealing, no raping.  And no weapons are allowed inside.  If you've 
got any, you'd better turn them over now.  If we catch you with 
them later, the punishment is death."
	"Don't worry," the stranger said.  "I'm not here to fight.  I 
just need a drink."
	The guard nodded, then pulled a lever by her side.  The massive 
gates of the city rattled open, the winches squealing against the layer 
of dust coating them.  When the gate were wide enough, the stranger 
drove inside.
	Inside, the harsh winds of the storm were little more than a 
rumble that shook the walls like thunder.  The motorcycle weaved 
down the dirt roads of the city, making its way through the crowds of 
women that moved through the crowded marketplace.  At one point, a 
group of little girls ran into the motorcycle's path.  The rider screetched 
to a halt, let the children pass, then moved on.
	The motorcycle finally pulled up in front of a wooden shack with
a hand-painted sign that read DARLENE'S.  The stranger shut off the 
engine, dismounted, and locked the wheels with a heavy chain.  With the 
vehicle settled, the stranger trudged into the saloon.
	The stranger walked into the dimly-lit bar, washed in laughter and 
cheers from the patrons.  Women at tables cheered and howled at the 
scantily-clad dancers onstage as they guzzled heavy drinks.  The stranger 
walked past a table where a topless woman was sitting in a biker woman's 
lap.  The stranger ignored the moans of pleasure they were giving off as 
they fondled each other's breasts.
	The stranger approached the bar, where a bartender stopped 
wiping off the counter to smile.
	"Can I help you, miss?" she asked.
	"Gimme a beer," the stranger said.  "Budweiser.  Cold."
	"Yes, ma'am."  The bartender turned away to get one of the bottles 
lined up on the shelf behind her.
	"And by the way," the stranger said, reaching for the scarves 
concealing the mouth that spoke, "I'm not a ma'am."
	The bartender turned around.  Her eyes widened.  The bottles she 
was holding slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor with a crash 
that silenced the bar.  Everyone stopped to look at the stranger.  All 
echoed the bartender's expression.
	Because the stranger was a man.
	"No," the bartender whispered.  "That's not possible."
	The stranger glared at her with his hard, grey eyes as he pulled 
away the scarf concealing his long, black hair.  "What's not possible?"
	"You're a man.  That can't be.  There are no more..."
	"Can I get my beer now?  Preferably one in an unbroken bottle."
	The bartender nodded slowly.  "Of course.  I...I'll get you one..."  
	She reached for another beer bottle with trembling hands and set it 
down on the bar.  Her eyes never left the stranger's face.
	He tossed a gold coin onto the counter.  "I'd also like a room to 
rent for the night.  And the name of a good place in town to stock up on 
supplies."
	The bartender nodded.  She fumbled for one of the sets of keys 
hanging on the wall behind her, then set it down in front of him.  "Room 
thirteen.  And there's a general store a few doors down.  Can't miss it."
	The stranger swept up the beer and keys.  "Thanks."  He headed 
for an empty table in a corner of the bar.
	The stranger seemed unaware of the women who followed him 
with their eyes as he made his way to the table and sat down.  His first 
act was to unsling his backpack and rest it on the floor beside him.  Then 
he pried off the cap of the beer bottle with his teeth, propped his feet up 
on the table, spat the cap onto the floor, and began to drink.
	The music started up again.  The dancers began trying to get back 
into their routine, but they remained unsteady, their eyes locked on the 
man in the corner.  Some of the women turned back to the show, but for 
the most part, everyone watched the stranger's every move.  Some watched 
him with eyes that burned with hatred.  Others with eyes glazed over with 
lust.
	The stranger drained the bottle, then set it down on the table.  He 
pulled a deck of cards out of his coat pocket, then began to deal them out.
	A blonde woman got up from a table nearby.  She shot nervous 
glances at her companions, then crossed over to the man's table.  She was 
trembling so hard that her large unrestrained breasts quivered visibly 
under her t-shirt.
	When the blonde reached the table, she cleared her throat.  "Excuse 
me."
	The man was arranging the cards in rows of solitaire.  "Yeah?"
	"I'm sorry to bother you, but...you are a man, aren't you?"
	The man froze for a moment, studying his table, then put down a 
card in one of the rows.  "Yeah."
	"But how can that be?" she whispered.  "All the men died off in 
the Plague."
	"All the men," the stranger said, "except me."
	The blonde let out a rush of breath, then asked, "Do you mind if 
I...sit?"
	"It's a free country," the man said.  "In most places."
	The blonde sat down, crossing her long, curvy legs.  She leaned 
forward, her cleavage filling the neck of her shirt.  "My name's Candy.  
What's yours?"
	"John," the man said.
	"John what?"
	"John Doe."
	Candy smirked.  "Is that your real name?"
	John looked up at her, giving her a slight trace of a smile.  "It's 
close enough."
	"Okay.  I'll play that game.  But I have to ask...how did you 
survive the Plague?"
	John leaned back in his chair.  "I don't know.  I wish I did, but I 
don't.  I got the Plague, spent a month in the hospital, then I just...got 
better.  So I moved on."
	"So the legends are true," the blonde whispered.  "There are still 
men on the Earth."
	"Maybe.  But I've been all over the country, and I've never met 
another.  As far as I know, I'm the last one."
	Candy closed her eyes.  "A man.  It's been so long."
	John's eyes darkened.  "Yeah.  Real long."
	She opened her eyes, a twinkle now showing there.  She leaned 
forward even further, resting her ample breasts on the table, causing them 
to flow out and upwards.  John noted this, then looked back at her eyes.
	"So," she said, "you staying long?"
	"Overnight."
	"That's long enough.  Would you fuck me?"
	John stared at her.
	"It's been so long," she whispered.  "And it's been so hard.  Being 
a hetero in this world... I've worn out the batteries on my vibrator, my 
fingers are sore... I've even started to go out with a few girls, just for 
some relief.  But it all seemed so pointless.  I mean, is it possible to be 
straight in a world with no men?  But with you here, there's hope.  And I 
need it so bad."
	John put down his card.  He leaned across the table and kissed her.  
His tongue pushed into her mouth, and hers responded in kind, twining 
itself around his.  Candy pressed herself against him, her arms wrapping 
around his neck, pulling him close.  When John pulled away, Candy kept 
up the suction until they broke apart with a loud pop.
	"I always help a lady in distress," John said. 
	He swept his cards back into his pocket as he rose to his feet.  
Candy stood up, and he could see trickles of her juices running out of her 
shorts down her bare thighs.  John slung his backpack onto his shoulder, 
then put his hand in hers.  The bar had fallen silent again as he walked 
with Candy to the stairs that led to the rooms on the second floor.
	John's room was only big enough to fit a rickety bed inside with 
slightly enough room to walk around it.  Candy didn't even wait for him 
to shut the door behind them.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, 
pulling him close.  Her breasts squashed against him, her hard nipples like
marbles pressing into his chest.  She kissed him again even harder, so hard 
that John thought she was going to come out of the other side of his head.
	"So long," she murmured under her breath.  "So long..."
	John let his hands run down to the edges of her t-shirt.  Candy 
raised her arms as he pulled the shirt up over her head.  Candy broke free 
of him so that he could tug the shirt off, freeing her massive glands to the 
open air.  
	John pressed his hands against them, gently carressing them with 
his palms.  Candy moaned as he traced circles around them, over them, 
spiralling down to her erect nipples.  When he finally touched them, 
Candy shivered.  He began to press the nipples into her flesh, rolling 
them under his hands.  Candy moaned loud, her knees weakening until 
she was sitting on the bed.
	John kicked the door of the hotel room shut.  Then he leaned over 
her, still keeping his hands working on her breasts.  Candy pressed her 
head back, arching her back to move herself even further into his grip.   
John kissed her again, keeping their lips locked so he could feel her 
trembles of pleasure.
	Then he stopped.  He planted a series of small kisses over her 
face and neck, then trailed down to her breasts.  He sucked one of the 
nipples into his mouth, pinning it between his lips as he tickled it with 
his tongue.
	Candy let out a loud moan, her shivering reaching the point where 
John had to hold her breast to keep it in her mouth.  She tilted her head 
back, pressed into the pillow, her eyes rolled back in her head, her tongue 
licking her lips.
	"Fuck me," she moaned.  "Please fuck me..."
	John released her breast from his mouth, leaving her gasping on 
the bed.  He took off his backpack and let it rest on the floor.  Then he 
unbuttoned his own coat and shed the shirt he wore underneath to expose 
his muscular chest.  His hands slid down her ribs, her hips, to the edge of 
the shorts she was wearing.  They slid off gracefully, leaving her in 
nothing but a pair of white silk panties.  A blossom of wetness was on the 
crotch, soaked to the point where he could see through them to her slit.
	John rolled the panties down her legs.  The crotch hung onto her 
for a moment, then broke free with a strand of her juices, exposing the 
curled blonde hairs matted down to her swollen lips. 
	John kissed the hood of her clitoris, feeling it harden, then slid off 
his own jeans, unleashing his hard shaft.  He climbed up onto the bed.  
Candy spread her legs wide, wrapping them around his waist.  Her heels 
dug into his back, pulling him against her.  John positioned himself, then 
slid into her flowing depths.
	"Oh!" Candy gasped as he began his first thrust, and he could feel 
her flesh spasming around his cock as she came within seconds.   Her 
eyes squeezed shut, her teeth bared as her body spasmed in the throes of 
orgasm.
	John began to thrust deeper, drawing it out covered in a thin film 
of her lubricants, then pushed back in.  Candy curled her hips up to meet 
him, doubling the impact.  She pressed her hands against his cheeks as 
another orgasm swept through her body.  John continued his movements, 
driving her into an endless river of pleasure.
	"So long," Candy groaned through it all, "so long..."
	John supported himself on his elbows and began to thrust faster.  
The sounds of his hips slapping against her buttocks filled the room, 
along with the noises of their juices inside her.  Candy's legs were 
crushing him against her body, the muscles frozen.  Tears ran down her 
cheeks as she cried and laughed at the same time.  Her breasts were a 
billowing mass on her chest from their movements.
	Then John felt the stirring in his own body, and he thrust one last 
time before his own release arrived.  They came together, moaning as 
one voice, Candy's toes curled into knots.  John's cream mixed with the 
juices flowing out of Candy onto the bed, forming a puddle on the 
sheets beneath them.
	When the wave had passed, John remained inside her, holding 
her.  Candy slid her hands up his face, running her fingers through his 
long hair, as she smiled.
	"You're so good," she whispered.
	"I've had a lot of practice," John responded.


	In the saloon downstairs, the music and dancing had resumed, but 
very few people were listening.  They could all hear the cries and creaks 
coming from the bedroom upstairs.  Some of the women had unbuttoned 
their blouses and were fondling their breasts with harsh abandon.  Others 
had their hands down their pants or up their skirts, writhing in their seats 
as they finger-fucked themselves with blinding speed.
	The biker woman had her hand up the skirt of the woman sitting 
on her lap, as the woman had her hand in the zipper of the biker's pants.  
Both of them drove their fingers into each other's slits as fast as they 
could, groaning and shivering.  The woman on the biker's lap came first, 
letting out a piercing scream that filled the bar.  Then the biker followed, 
hauling the woman back to suckle her exposed breast.  The two of them 
trembled in each other's arms for a few seconds, their moans descending 
to a soft whimpers.  The biker recovered first.
	She shoved the woman off her lap to stand.  "I gotta make a phone 
call."
	The woman took her seat, spreading her legs to fondle herself 
again.  "Hurry back."
	"Yeah, yeah," the biker murmured as she zipped up her pants.
	She headed across the bar, trying to stay upright from the 
weakness of her knees.  When she reached the pay-phone, the biker 
grabbed onto it and used it to straighten herself.  Then she slipped a 
quarter into the slot which responded with a soft ping.
	The biker dialed a number, glaring up at the bedroom while the 
noises continued.  When a voice answered, the biker said, "Yeah.  This 
is Venom.  John Doe is here.  Yeah, that's right.  He's upstairs boffing 
some chick."
	The biker grinned.  "We got him this time."


Part Two - Spider To The Fly

	John lay in bed with Candy, their arms intertwined, holding each 
other.
	"It's been so long," Candy whispered.  "I'd forgotten how good it 
was to be with a man.  You don't know how hard it's been for me.  Has 
been for all of us, I guess, but I was only fifteen when the Plague hit.  I'd

barely started dating.  If I'd known all the men would disappear in a few 
months, I'd have put out a lot more."
	Candy looked up into John's grey eyes.  "I don't understand.  Why 
did you survive when all the others died?"
	"Beats me," John said.  "I've been trying to figure that out for 
years.  Maybe I have some sort of immunity."
	"Your name isn't really John Doe, is it?"
	John's fingers stopped combing through Candy's hair.  "No.  It's 
not."
	"What is it?"
	John let a moment pass before he said, "I can't tell you."
	"Why not?"
	"I just can't," John said.  "Please don't ask."
	"Okay.  Small price to pay for what we just had together."  Candy 
slid further up his body, resting her large breasts on her chest.  "Where are

you headed after this?"
	"I'll be crossing the Zone to California.  I just stopped in to stock 
up on some supplies."
	Candy ran a finger through his chest hair.  "Could you take me 
with you?"
	"I'm sorry.  I can't.  I have to travel alone."
	Candy's finger stopped.  "What?  But...what are you saying?  That 
you're leaving me?  Just like that?  After all these years, I finally meet
the 
last man on Earth, and he's a one-night stand?"
	"It's not like that.  It's just something I have to do.  Trust me, I have 
a very good reason."
	"Which is?"
	"I can't tell you."
	Candy sat up, her naked breasts swaying down to one side.  "Is that 
all you can say?  'I can't tell you?'  I don't know where you're from, I
don't 
know your name, and I can't even hang around you long enough to find 
out?"
	John rested a hand on her cheek.  "Look, I know this must be hard 
to believe, but I..."
	He froze.  "You hear that?"
	Candy frowned.  "What?"
	"Motorcycles.  Seven of them."
	"So?"
	John scrambled over Candy to look out his window.  He had to 
wipe away a film of dust to be able to see the road below.  The door of 
Estrogen City were wide open, allowing seven motorcycles to come 
roaring into the city.  The woman riding the motorcycles all wore black 
leather clothes.  The women pulled up in front of the saloon below and 
switched off their engines.
	One of the women pulled off her helmet, exposing her black hair.  
It was cropped short, but the cut had left eight clumps of hair that had 
been moussed into stalks that jutted from the woman's scalp.  The woman 
looked up at John's window.
	He dove out of sight, rolling off the bed.  "Oh, great."
	Candy watched him with a puzzled frown.  "What's going on?"
	"The Black Widows.  They found me."  John ducked down, 
thrashing through the blankets and sheets they had thrown onto the floor.  
"I gotta get out of here.  Where's my backpack?"
	"Why?  Who are the Black Widows?"
	John threw the pillow aside.  "A motorcycle gang.  All lesbians, and 
all of them want me dead."
	"Why?"
	John pulled his backpack out from under the bed, then looked at 
Candy.  "Isn't it obvious?  Look around you.  It's a lesbian's paradise out 
there.  No men, just women.  Forever.  Leave this world alone long enough, 
everybody'll turn like them."
	John unzipped the backpack and dragged an Uzi out of its depths.  
"Some people think I'm the key to restoring the male gender, that somehow 
my DNA or my immunity to the Plague can be used to give women the 
ability to bear male children again.  I'm a source of hope to the heteros.  
And the Black Widows don't want that.  They want to kill me.  Then 
everything'll be their way forever."
	John jammed a clip into the Uzi, then began pulling on his 
clothes.  "They've been after me for years.  No matter how far I run, 
they're always one step behind me.  I knew staying here was too soon, 
especially after that last incident in Dallas.  Somebody in the bar must 
have tipped them off.  How could I be so stupid..."
	"So that's it?" Candy whispered.  "You're leaving?  Just like that?"
	John zipped up his coat, then kissed her.  "I promise I'll be back 
soon."
	"Very soon."
	John grinned.  "Very soon."
	John picked up his Uzi off the bed, then threw himself against the 
wall.  He slid across it to the door, then eased it open to peer outside.
	Eight sets of footsteps were coming up the stairs.  Women were 
screaming, but one woman was yelling louder than all the others, and 
John recognized her voice.
	"Spinnet, Fang," the woman was saying, "stay down here.  Keep 
the exit covered.  We're not losing him this time!"
	They came into view.  The women were carrying machine guns 
the size of two-by-fours.  They were headed straight for his room.
	John slammed the door.  Bullets riddled it a second later, holes 
popping into the surface.  Candy screamed, ducking onto the bed as 
bulletholes formed on the wall above her head.
	"Not that way," John said.  
	"But there's no other exit!" Candy screamed.
	"I'll have to make one."
	John smashed the window with his gun.  Then he threw the 
blankets and pillow out the window onto the street below.  Then he hooked 
his backpack on his arm and took a running jump through the windowframe.
	John fell through the air, landing on the pile of cloth.  It wasn't as 
soft as he had hoped, driving needles of pain into his leg and arms where 
he landed.  But no bones were broken.  At least he hoped not.
	John staggered to his feet.  Other women in the marketplace were 
staring at him with horror and confusion.  John ignored them, limping to 
his motorcycle waiting in front of the saloon.  He mounted it, jammed his 
Uzi into a holster on the handlebars, then revved the engine to life.
	The Black Widows appeared at the window above him.  More 
appeared at the door of the saloon.  They all opened fire.   John roared 
away from the hail of fire that pocked the walls and ground around him, 
and drove the women in the marketplace screaming out of the town 
square.
	John headed for the main gate at high speed.  The Black Widows' 
bikes started up and growled after him.  Bullets still followed, one 
punching into the sleeve of his coat, leaving a hole.  Without looking 
back, John dragged out the Uzi and pointed it behind him, firing 
indiscriminately in his wake.  He could hear the strangled cries as some 
of his bullets hit home, sending Black Widows to the earth.
	John could see the swirling sands of the Zone through the open 
gate.  If he could make it out there, the duststorm would swallow him up, 
hiding him from view.  He would escape.
	A loud grinding noise filled the city as the gates began to close.
	"No!" John yelled.
	He increased his speed, putting the motorcycle into full throttle 
as he hunched lower over the handlebars.  But the gates were closing, 
the gap between them shrinking, until it was too small for him to get 
through.  Then they slammed shut with a hollow thud.  The engines died 
away with a whine.
	John hit the brakes.  The rear wheel began to skid.  His 
motorcycle went into a spin that carried him sideways into the front gate.  
He was rammed into it, driving pain into his arm and down his side.  His 
head banged up against it, setting it ringing in his ears
	John gasped for air as the Black Widows approached him.  They 
had stopped firing.  The motorcycles coasted to a halt, forming a semi-
circle around him.
	One of them, who had her hair braided like the eight legs of a 
spider, climbed off her motorcycle and grinned at him.  "Well, well, well. 
Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.  If it isn't John Doe, the 
Cockmaster supreme."
	John glared at her.  "Arachne.  Been a long time."
	"Too long.  I was beginning to think you were trying to avoid me.  
You know, John, you've slipped away from us a few times, but I never 
thought catching you in the end would be this easy."
	John wiped a trickle of blood off his lip.  "What are you talking 
about?"
	Arachne folded her arms over her chest.  "Oh, come on, John.  
You don't really think this was all an accident, do you?  We knew you'd 
have to stop here before you crossed the Zone.  I mean, think about it.  
The city, our spy in the bar downstairs, us mere minutes away, the doors 
closing just as you tried to escape..."
	John looked up at the window of his hotel room.  "And Candy..."
	Arachne laughed.  "Oh, don't get paranoid on me, breeder.  That 
was the one part of this plan we didn't have to set up.  You and a roomful 
of heteros...it's like an accident waiting to happen.  We knew you'd take 
one of those little ladies upstairs, giving us just enough time to get here."
	Arachne looked up at the window with a coy smile.  "So how 
was she, Jon-Boy?  'Cause I'd like to try some of that tail myself later 
on."
	The one John knew as Venom grinned.  "She's real tasty, boss.  
Had me a little bit of her sugar this morning.  She's a little shy at first, 
but once you get her going...she'll eat your brains out."
	John shook his head.  "You couldn't have planned all this.  You 
don't have the resources."
	"You're right," Arachne said.  "We had a little help.  Follow me 
like a good boy, and we'll show you our esteemed benefactor."
	"Do I have a choice?"
	Two of the Black Widows put the muzzles of their guns to his 
head.
	"No," Arachne said.


	John was taken to the highest tower in Estrogen City.  They rode 
an elevator to the penthouse, a rotating saucer that overlooked the entire 
city.  John was walked down a long corridor to an ornately-decorated 
chamber.  Women in armor stood along the walls, all carrying rifles, 
guarding the throne in the center of the room.
	A woman in a flowing golden gown sat in a jewel-encrusted 
throne.  Another woman in a bikini and G-string stood behind her with 
her hands down the front of the gown, kneading the woman's breasts.  
A third woman in a bikini was kneeling in front of the gowned woman's 
open legs, her face buried in the crotch.  John could hear wet noises 
coming from it.
	The gowned woman opened one eye and smiled as John 
entered the room.  "Ah, good afternoon.  I'll be right with you.  Uh, Sarah,
you can finish up now."
	The kneeling woman lifted her head and spoke with lips smeared 
with juice.  "Yes, madame."
	She returned her mouth to the gowned woman's slit, her head 
shaking, giving off louder slurping noises.  The gowned woman gripped 
the arms of her throne with her hands, closing her eyes.  Her lips curled 
into a snarl as she grunted softly, then louder.  Her head tilted back as her

groans increased, then broke into a scream.  The woman thrashed in her 
seat, her legs extended and trembling as her orgasm rippled through her 
body.  She gasped, letting her feet return to the floor again, sinking back 
into her throne.
	When she had relaxed, the gowned woman smiled at the two 
women who moved to stand in front of her.  "Thank you, darlings, that 
will be all for now.  Take them away."
	Two of the guards against the walls moved to flank the two 
women and marched them down the corridor out of the throne room.
	John watched them go, paying particular attention to their exposed 
ass-cheeks, then nodded.  "Nice place you got here."
	The gowned woman daintily arranged her gown to cover her legs 
and breasts.  "Yes.  Indeed I do.  I'm afraid that's why I had to supply aid 
to the young ladies you seem to be so acquainted with."
	She stood and approached John.  "Oh, but where are my manners?  
My subjects call me Mrs. Ippy."
	"People call me John Doe."
	"So we both use pseudonyms.  However, I call myself Mrs. Ippy 
because I'm from there, and like the sound of it.  Why do you call yourself 
John Doe?"
	He glared at her.
	"Fair enough," Mrs. Ippy said.  "We all have our little secrets.  
Mine is this.  In the Old World, I was a secretary at a backwater law firm.  
I had nothing but a pen, a cat, and a lingering attraction to my own sex to 
call my own.  Then the Plague came, bringing with it the New Order.  
Suddenly, I was in command.  I led those around me to band together as 
their leader.  I built this city where they said no city could be built.  I
have 
everything I want or need."
	Mrs. Ippy nodded.  "Then you came along.  You represent 
everything that was wrong with the Old World.  The New Order is a 
better world, one where women take their rightful position as rulers of 
the globe.  Your kind is obsolete.  The Old World must never return."
	Mrs. Ippy turned away with a wave of her hand.  "And besides, 
I discovered I don't really like men, after all.  So you must die.  I
reunited 
with the darling Arachne here.  We had a few drinks, humped a little bit, 
and came to an understanding.  She guided you here, I sprung the trap."
	"Good for you," John said.  "So what happens now?"
	"Now," Arachne growled, "you die."
	Mrs. Ippy held up a hand.  "Not quite yet."
	Arachne glared at her.  "What are you talking about?  We agreed 
that we would kill him the moment we had him."
	"I know what I said.  But I've changed my mind.  I'd like to discuss 
a few things with Mr. Doe in private, if that's all right with you."
	"What?" Arachne yelled.  "But you can't do this, he..."
	"Everybody out.  Guards, take them with you."
	The armed women against the wall marched to the door.  They 
forced the Black Widows out of the throne room, ignoring their screams 
and thrashing limbs.  John watched them go, then the door slammed shut 
behind him, and he was alone.
	With Mrs. Ippy.
	John glared at her.  "So.  What'd you want to talk to me about?"
	Mrs. Ippy crossed over to a bar in the corner where she filled two 
glasses with an exotic wine.  She held one of them out to John with a 
broad smile.
	"Us," she said.  "I'm afraid I lied a little bit a minute ago.  I do like 
men, but I must admit I'm a little out of practice with them.  I'd like you
to 
show me what you can do.  If you satisfy me, you can go free.  If you fail, 
I'll have you executed."
	John took the glass.  "Fair enough.  But won't Arachne have 
anything to say about this?"
	"Arachne," Mrs. Ippy said, "can go fuck herself."
	John drained the glass, then nodded.  "She probably will."
	Mrs. Ippy sipped her glass, rested it on the bar, then slid her arms 
around John's neck.  "Then let's begin, shall we?"

	
Part Three - Do or Die

	John leaned her head down to press his lips against Mrs. Ippy's.  
She responded in kind, bringing herself closer to him.  Then she broke 
the kiss.
	Her smile was coy as she loosened the clasp on her gown, letting 
it drape off her body onto the floor.  She was naked underneath with 
small breasts tipped with large areolae that almost covered them.  Her 
dark bush still glistened from the attention her servant had given it a few 
minutes ago.
	Mrs. Ippy stepped back to take another sip of her wine, keeping 
her eyes locked on his, then slowly got down on her knees.  She smiled 
up at him as she zipped open his jeans and pulled out his semi-hard 
member.
	Mrs. Ippy began to stroke the shaft with her delicate hand.  "It's 
been a long time since I've tasted a man's cock.  I miss it."
	John felt himself harden in her expert hands.  When he was 
fully erect, Mrs. Ippy guided the head of his rod into the wine glass she 
held in her other hand.  He felt a chill as she swirled his cockhead in the 
icy fluid.  When the tip was sufficiently coated in wine, Mrs. Ippy pulled 
him out, replacing the glass with her mouth.
	He felt her cheeks envelop his shaft as she guided him down her 
throat on a layer of saliva.  He sank deeper and deeper into his mouth 
with an agonizingly slow pace.  Mrs. Ippy's tongue twisted and wrapped 
itself around his shaft as he slid over its rough surface, sending tingles 
of pleasure through his entire body.  John groaned as he penetrated her 
throat, feeling it convulse around his rod as she swallowed him.  
The suction on his member felt like she was going to suck the cum right 
out of his balls.
	Then, just as the ecstasy reached its peak, Mrs. Ippy slid him out 
of her mouth.  As his tip passed through her lips once again, she pursed 
them, giving his cock a final kiss before it was freed to the open air.
	"Mmmm," Mrs. Ipy said, "just as good as I remember.  I miss the 
taste of a man's cum, too, but I don't want yours just yet.  I have a few 
other needs that have to be satisfied first."
	Mrs. Ippy rose to her feet.  She turned her back to him and walked 
to her throne, her curvy ass swaying with her hips.  She lowered herself 
onto the seat of her throne, then beckoned him with a finger.
	John strode forward to stand before her.
	"Take your pants off," she said.
	John obeyed, unzipping his jeans and sliding them onto the floor.
	Mrs. Ippy smiled up at him for a moment, then finished her wine.  
When the glass was empty, she set it aside, then stretched out her legs.  
Her feet pressed against John's hips.  She pulled him forward by them, 
then wrapped her legs around his waist.  She jerked him forward with her 
heels, forcing him into her wet pussy.
	John began to thrust into her, but Mrs. Ippy thrust back even harder.  
Her tunnel pulsed around his shaft like a third hand, stroking along its 
length.  John gasped as Mrs. Ippy massaged him from the inside.
	"I thought you'd like that," she whispered.  "I've had thirteen years 
to practice it."
	She encircled his neck with her arms, pulling herself up his body.  
John supported her weight on his lap as she bounced up and down, 
bringing herself onto him over and over again in a steady rhythm.  Her 
rippling tunnel continued to milk his cock, weakening his knees with 
pleasure.
	"Turn around," Mrs. Ippy gasped.
	John faced away from the throne and she shifted her weight 
forward.  He toppled over, dropping into the throne in her place.  She 
rode him, rubbing her swollen nipples all over his chest and stomach.  
The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room.  Mrs. Ippy 
bounced herself harder and harder on his lap, forcing him deeper and 
deeper into her body.  Soon their hips were locked, pressed together as 
tightly as they could, as she ground herself against him.  
	John tilted his head back, but Mrs. Ippy grabbed him by his 
temples.  She pulled his head down, forcing him to look into her eyes.  
They were wide and glazed above a harsh smile on her face.  John felt 
his balls tighten as his orgasm approached.
	"You wanna cum, huh?" Mrs. Ippy panted.  "You wanna shoot 
your load all over the inside of my pussy?  Huh?"
	"Yes," John gasped.
	Mrs. Ippy stopped.  She lifted herself up off his rod.
	"Well, you can't," she said.  "Not yet.  I told you I want to taste 
it."
	She stood up, then dropped to her knees again in front of her 
throne.  She took John into her mouth again, sliding his rod in until he 
felt himself tickle the back of her throat.  Then she swallowed, drawing 
more of him into herself until her lips caressed his balls.
	Then she began to swallow, again and again, creating a suction 
and sensation that combined to make John groan at the top of his lungs.  
He forced up his hips, thrusting deeper into her mouth as he felt himself 
reach the edge, then cross over.
	John cried out as he came.  His fluids shot into Mrs. Ippy, who 
continued to suck on his member.  He emptied his load down her throat, 
draining his balls into her stomach, trembling on the throne beneath him.  
His hips bucked out of his control, but Mrs. Ippy easily moved her head 
with him, keeping up her assault.  When the waves of pleasure ceased, 
John collapsed back into the seat, trying to regain his breath.
	Only then did Mrs. Ippy release him from her mouth.  
	"So what's the verdict?" John panted. 
	She got up, wiping the edges of her mouth with her fingers.  "Not 
bad.  Very good, in fact.  Not that many women could keep up with me 
that long, much less a man."
	"Thanks.  Do I go free or not?"
	"No.  You don't go free."
	John stood up.  "So I didn't satisfy you?"
	Mrs. Ippy picked her golden gown off the floor to draw it around 
her body.  "Oh, you satisfied me.  Very much so.  So much that I've 
decided not to have you executed.  You're going to be the latest addition 
to my harem.  A man should make an entertaining diversion every now 
and then, and how could I resist the pleasure of having the last man on 
Earth at my beck and call."
	John picked up his jeans.  "As appealing as that sounds, I'll have
to pass."
	"And what makes you think you have a choice?"
	John slipped a knife out of the hidden pocket in the cuff of his 
jeans.  "This."  
	He threw the knife at her.  Mrs. Ippy moved her head out of its 
path.  The knife buried itself in the wall behind her to the hilt.
	Mrs. Ippy straightened, fixing him with an angry glare as she 
finishing tying her gown around herself.  "Just for that, I'm not going to 
suck you off next time.  Guards!"
	The doors flew open.  Women in armor charged into the room 
with nightsticks.  They descended on John, beating him to the floor.  A 
smile spread across Mrs. Ippy's face as the chamber resounded with the 
sounds of wood pounding flesh.
	After a few minutes, she said.  "That's enough for now.  Take 
him to the dungeons.  And take his jeans with him.  Make sure he 
doesn't have any more weapons in them."
	The guards dragged John's limp body out of the chamber.  As 
they left, Arachne charged in.  Mrs. Ippy settled herself onto her throne 
as Arachne approached.
	"And what was that all about?" Arachne snarled.
	"He tried to kill me," Mrs. Ippy said.  "I had to teach him a 
lesson."
	"Is he dead?"
	Mrs. Ippy tilted her head to one side.  "You are obsessed with 
that, aren't you?"
	"Now you listen to me," Arachne said.  "John Doe is a very 
dangerous man, not one of your toys.  The longer he stays alive, the 
longer you, me, and the whole New Order hangs on the brink of 
destruction."
	Mrs. Ippy leaned forward.  She took hold of one of Arachne's 
braids.  She pulled the biker woman close to her lips.
	"Don't you ever," Mrs. Ippy whispered, "presume to tell me how 
to run my city.  I built it, I govern it, I alone will dictate its future.
 No 
one controls me anymore."
	She smiled as one of her hands drifted down to massage 
Arachne's breast through her leather jacket.  "And don't belittle my 
toys.  It wasn't that long ago that you were one of them.  Perhaps you'd 
like to return to those days?"
	"No," Arachne whispered.
	Mrs. Ippy massaged harder, squeezing the breast under her fingers, 
feeling the hardening nipple even through the layers of clothing.  "Oh, yes, 
you do.  You want it.  Tell me you want it."
	Arachne glared at her.
	Mrs. Ippy squeezed her breast as hard as she could, bringing up a 
cry of pain from Arachne's lips.  "Tell me you want it."
	"I want it," Arachne gasped.
	Mrs. Ippy released her breast.  She slid her hand down Arachne's 
stomach, guiding her fingers into the waist of the biker woman's leather 
pants.  Arachne cried out as the fingers penetrated her moistening slit.
	"You like this, don't you?" Mrs. Ippy whispered.  "You like it 
when I finger-fuck you like the toy you are?  It can be like this again.  All

you have to do is ask."
	Arachne bit her lip as Mrs. Ippy rubbed her fingers over the hard 
nub of her clit.  The biker's eyes squeezed shut as Mrs. Ippy dipped her 
index finger into the fleshy womb of her pussy.  Arachne could feel the 
finger plunging deep into her over and over, sending waves of pleasure 
through her body.
	"But you won't," Mrs. Ippy said.  "You're free now, and you like 
that freedom.  But you made a mistake coming back to me for help.  
Now you owe me.  And I intend to collect."
	Mrs. Ippy pulled her hand out of Arachne's pants, releasing her 
grip on the braid.  She licked the juices off her fingers, sucking her index 
finger as Arachne watched, then smiled.  "But not today.  You may go 
now.  I'll call you when I need you."
	"Yes, Mrs. Ippy," Arachne growled.
	She turned and walked out of the throne room, tucking her shirt 
back into her jeans.  When Arachne was back in the corridor and the 
doors had closed behind her, Arachne closed her eyes.
	"Man, I hate that psycho bitch," she whispered.


TO BE CONTINUED...


THE LAST MAN ON EARTH: Black Widow's Web 4/5  
(m/ffff, f-mast)
by Night Writer

Part Four - Underground

	John Doe felt the jagged concrete sliding beneath him as he was 
dragged through a musty dungeon.  He wanted to fight back, but he had to 
build up his strength after the beating he had just received.  His arms and 
legs still burned from the blows of hundreds of clubs.
	John was hauled past barred doorways that seemed to go on 
without end, hundreds of them.  In all of them, he could see scantily-clad 
women huddled, watching him go by.  They all watched him with awed 
expressions as they whispered to each other.
	"It's a man," was the phrase that John heard most often, laced 
with the wonder and amazement that greeted him often in this new 
world.
	Finally, the guards holding him stopped in front of a cell.  The 
woman holding his left arm dug a set of keys out of her pocket, 
inserted it in the lock, and pushed open the door.  Then John was thrown 
into the cell.
	He landed on his chest with a thump.  His jeans landed on top of 
him.  The door was closed and locked behind him.
	John let a few moments pass before pushing himself up.  In the 
dim light of the hallway, John could make out four women huddled in the 
shadows.  All were wearing the attire that Mrs. Ippy seemed to favor - a 
tiny bikini top and G-string panties.
	"You're a man," one of them whispered.
	"Yeah."  John eased himself up onto his elbows.  "That's right.  
I'm a man."
	"But the men were all killed in the Plague," a blonde one said.  "I 
haven't seen one in over a decade."
	"Well, today's your lucky day."  John began digging through the 
pockets of his jeans.  "Because as far as I know, I'm the last man on 
Earth."
	The women crawled towards him.  They began running their 
hands over his arms, through his long hair, over his broad shoulders, 
cooing to themselves.
	"A man at last," a slender black woman said.  "It's been years."
	John threw the jeans aside.  "Great.  They took all my knives.  
Look, I don't have time to chat with you girls.  I have to get out of here."
	A volumptuous woman shook her head, her long, red hair 
carressing her shoulders.  "This is Mrs. Ippy's dungeon.  There is no 
way out of here.  I've been here for two years, longer than anyone else 
here, and I've never seen anyone escape.  You're a part of her harem now."
	A large-breasted brunette gave him a coy smile.  "A welcome 
part of her harem."
	John broke free of their grasping hands.  "Look, I'd really love 
to stay and chat, but I have to go.  Somehow."
	"I know a way out," the blonde said.
	John looked at her.  "Really?  What?"
	"Not yet.  I have a price.  I'm not a lesbian yet.  Mrs. Ippy put me 
down here to break my spirit, turn me into what she wants.  And after 
fourteen years, it's gotten hard to resist.  I'll tell you how to get out if 
you'll make love to me."
	"And me," the brunette said.
	"Me, too," the redhead breathed.
	"Yes," the blonde said.  "We'll help you get out if you do all of 
us.  Just once."
	John sighed.  "Okay.  But I don't have time to do this one at a time.  
I'll take you all on."
	The black woman smiled.  "Deal."
	They all leaned towards him, rubbing their hands over his body.  
John kissed each of them, running his fingers through their silky hair, 
playing his tongue in their mouths.  Then he lay down on the floor.
	"Since this was your idea," John said to the blonde, "you get my 
cock."
	The blonde squealed as she slipped off her G-string, revealing a 
thatch of golden hair on her muff.  She climbed on top of John, straddling 
his waist.  Her pussy oozed juices onto his rod as she lowered herself onto 
him.  When his cockhead slid between her netherlips, the blonde grunted, 
baring her teeth.
	"Oh, yeah," she gasped.  "I missed it so much..."
	The other women began to strip off what little clothes they had 
as the blonde slid herself deeper onto him, engulfing his whole shaft with 
her tunnel, the labia tightening around it like a gulping mouth.  When she 
had penetrated him fully, the blonde began to rock back and forth, up and 
down, at a luxurious pace.
	John grit his teeth as he said, "Okay, now somebody get my 
mouth."
	The black woman dove forward before the others could reach it, 
squatting over John's face.  He looked up into her pink, dripping snatch as 
she eased herself down.  When her dark-furred mound was within range, 
John flicked out with a tongue.  The black woman moaned as he forced his 
tongue into her slit, working it up into her moist folds.  She sat down on 
his chin, her curvy brown thighs pressing against his ears.  John began to 
run his tongue along the length of her pussy, tasting the salty tang of her 
juices.
	As she shuddered on his face, the remaining two women 
frowned.
	"What about us?" the volumptuous redhead asked.
	John worked his mouth out enough to say, "Get on my hands."
	He held his hands out, fingers curved up.  The two women hunched 
over his outstretched arms.  The brunette rubbed her wet slit along his 
forearm, leaving a cool trail of her juices before mounting his fingers.  The
large redhead settled herself on his hand with a loud sigh, her plentiful 
thighs encasing his arm like a blanket.  The two women began to slide 
themselves up and down on his hands, whimpering softly.
	The cell resounded with gasps and moans of the four women.  
Noises began to come from the other cells around him.  John looked out 
of the door of his cell to see that the women in the jail across from them 
were watching.  All of them had their hands in their panties and bras, 
massaging themselves with a passionate frenzy.  One of them was 
shuddering on her palm in the throes of orgasm.
	The blonde was speeding up the pace of her ride, bouncing up 
and down on his shaft as she clutched her long hair with both hands.  
Her breath came in grunts of pleasure as she rammed his cock into her 
depths as hard as she could.
	The black woman was grinding her hips on John's face in circles, 
smearing his cheeks with her juices.  John kept his tongue stiff and 
straight, letting her guide its movements over her cunt.  She was 
moaning continously now in one drawn-out breath, getting louder and 
louder with each second.
	The brunette was gripping his arm with both hands as she 
humped his fingers with incredible speed.  John wiggled them a little 
and she burst into loud sobs.  The redhead on his other arm was moving 
very slowly, drawing him all the way out of herself before sliding him 
back in again.  She was only humming lightly under her breath, a 
peaceful smile on her face.
	"Oh, yeah," the blonde gasped as she bucked on his hips.  "I'm 
gonna cum...I'm gonna cum...so hard..."
	Then she was writhing, thrashing her hair as she came.  The 
walls of her pussy tightened so hard that it squeezed John out of her 
body.  The blonde rolled off him onto the floor, curling into a trembling 
ball.
	"Next," John said around a mouthful of flesh.
	The brunette jumped off his hand onto his cock.  She began to 
ride him hard and fast, her hips slamming into him over and over, the 
clapping flesh causing wet noises that filled the cell.  As she rode, her 
hands were a blur on her clit, rubbing it with reckless abandon.
	The black woman on John's chin watched her, smiling with 
clenched teeth as she whispered, "Yeah, fuck him.  Fuck that big cock 
of his.  Cum all over his shaft."
	The blonde reached up and stroked the brunette's tightly 
clenched buttocks.  "Can you feel me on him, baby?  Can you feel my 
hot juices making it all slick for you?"
	"Yeeeaaah," the brunette groaned.  "I feels soooo weettt...."
	Then she was cumming, her hands pinching her clit as she 
hunched over John's stomach.  The brunette's face screwed up into a 
grimace, her breath coming in short gasps as her pussy convulsed on 
John's rod.  Her entire body wriggled for several second, every muscle 
as tight as iron.
	Then she relaxed, her face spreading into a smile.  "Mmmm...."
	The large redhead climbed off John's hand.  "My turn."
	The brunette pulled herself off him, letting the redhead take 
her place.  The woman's body enveloped him with her flesh as she 
eased his cock into her folds.  She took hold of his shirt and ripped it 
open so she could run over his washboard stomach with her fingers as 
she began to ride.
	The black woman gasped, pressing herself into John's face.  
"Yes!  Yes!"
	Then she was circling his face with widening circles until she 
was grinding her wet slit over his chin, his eyes, his forehead, and his 
hair.  Her hands clutched his arms for support as she shuddered on his 
lips, then gushed her juices into his mouth.  John lapped it up, 
encircling her clit with his tongue.
	There were moans and cries of pleasure coming from all the 
cells now.  John looked up to see the women in the opposite cell were 
all writhing in the midst of orgasm.
	Only the redhead was left now, moving herself up and down in 
his lap with the same graceful pace she had used on his hand.  She 
leaned forward until her elongated breasts tickled his chest, her marble-
sized nipples tracing circles on him.  John took hold of them, kneading 
her fleshy jugs with his fingers.
	The redhead's smile broadened as she closed her eyes.  Then she 
jerked, bucking her hips once.  Then again.  Her eyes squeezed tighter, 
her mouth dropping open as if to laugh, then she bucked on him again.  
John felt her tunnel quiver around his shaft in her orgasm.  When it was 
still, the redhead opened her eyes.
	"Oh, yeah," she sighed.  "I really needed that."
	"But he hasn't cum yet," the black woman said.  "Let's give him 
a hand, girls."
	They all giggled as they knelt beside him.  Each of the four 
women wrapped a hand around his shaft.  They began to jerk it up and 
down in unison as fast as they could, laughing as they got out of synch.  
John let himself go over the edge, spurting his cream into the air.  When 
he had spent his load, the women licked it from their arms and hands 
with appreciative noises.
	A loud drawn-out moan filled the dungeon as the remaining 
women inside came at once.  The whimpers and sighs dwindled into 
breathy silence.
	"Okay," John gasped.  "Now can you tell me how to get out of 
here?"


TO BE CONTINUED...


THE LAST MAN ON EARTH: Black Widow's Web 5/5  
(f/f, f/ffffff, violence)
by Night Writer

Part Five - Sky-High

	The blonde stood up, pulling her G-string back up onto her hips.  
"It's real simple.  Every night, while everyone else is asleep, one of the 
guards comes to the cell.  She lets me out for a quickie in the guard-
station, then takes me back."
	"She does?" the redhead asked as she pulled on her bra.  "Why 
didn't you ever tell us?  Why didn't you try to escape?"
	The blonde looked down at the floor.  "Because...I liked it.  And 
she always threatened to kill me and my friends if I tried anything.  But 
with this guy around, maybe we have a shot."
	John Doe sat up from the cell floor, wincing as his injuries 
reannounced their presence.  "Okay.  Exactly how long do you think we 
have before this guard shows up?"
	"Well, she usually shows up at night, a few hours after the sun 
goes down.  I'd say about four hours."
	"Four hours.  Good.  That gives me time to recover.  This has 
been a really rough day." 
 	John lay back down again.  The four women lay down beside 
him, two on his left, two on his right.  He wrapped his arms around them 
as best he could and tried to get some sleep.


	The dungeon echoed with the light snores of the other prisoners.  
In John's cell, the four women were curled up against the wall, fast 
asleep.  John lay beside the cell door, his jeans folded into a pillow on 
which he rested his head.
	His eyes flew open as heavy footsteps came down the hallway 
outside the cell.  The boots stopped in front of it.  There was the jingle 
of keys, then the door creaked open on rusty hinges.
	"Sabrina," a woman's voice whispered.  "Are you awake?"
	"Yes," the blonde said in a low voice.
	"Good.  You know the drill.  I have a gun pointed at the heads 
of your friends.  Come with me."
	The blonde rose to her feet and walked meekly to the door.  
John watched from the corner of his eye as the guard shut the cell door 
behind her.
	"So," the guard said, "you got locked in here that man, huh?  
You do him?"  
	The blonde smiled and ran her fingers through the guards' black 
hair, trailing down to the belt encircling the guard's wide hips.  "The 
others did.  But not me.  You know I don't want him.  I only want you."
	The guard smiled as she led the blonde down the hallway, hand-
in-hand.
	When the two women's footsteps faded, John whispered, "Okay.  
The coast is clear."
	He scrambled to his feet, crawling over to where Sabrina had 
tossed the keys she lifted from the guard's belt.  The other three women 
gathered around John as he fit one key after another into the lock of the 
door.  One of them fit, sliding in easily.  He turned the key and the door 
unlocked with a metallic clunk.
	John pushed the door open wide.  "Everybody out."
	The other women ran out into the corridor, hugging themselves.  
John swept his jeans off the floor and hopped into the hallway as he 
pulled them on.  When he had zipped them up, John tossed the keys to 
the black woman.
	"Unlock the other cells," John said.  "Get everybody out of here."
	The black woman caught the keys with a frown.  "Where are 
you going?"
	"Anywhere but here," John said and ran.
	He ran down to the end of the corridor.  He could hear moans 
and gasps coming from the lighted room at the end.  As it came into 
view, John could see it was a small booth.  The blonde and the guard 
were inside.  
	The blonde sat on the edge of a small table, her legs spread 
wide as the guard humped her crotch with her hips.  It took a moment 
before John realized the guard was wearing a strap-on dildo.
	"You like that, huh?" the guard was saying.  "You like my 
cock better than that man in your cell?"
	"Yeah," the blonde gasped.  "I like it...I like it..."
	The guard kissed the blonde's breasts, flicking at the nipples 
with her tongue.  "Yeah, so much harder and warmer than his.  Why 
should a beautiful woman like you put up with second-best, huh?"
	John pressed himself against the wall of the corridor.  He crept 
forward, closer to the guard-station.  
	The guard was driving her plastic rod into the blonde even 
harder, shaking the whole table.  The blonde wrapped her legs around 
the guard's hips, whimpering softly.
	John came out of the corridor.  The blonde opened her eyes, 
looking at him with a glazed expression.  Then recognition came over 
her face.  She looked down at the table.  The gun was lying there next 
to her.
	"Come on, baby," the guard whispered into Sabrina's ear.  "I 
want you to do me, now.  Nobody humps like you..."
	John lunged forward.  He swept the gun off the table.  The 
guard halted her movements, looking at John with a shocked expression.
	"Okay," John said.  "I don't want any trouble.  I just want out of 
this place.  So here's what we're gonna do.  You're gonna take off all 
your clothes."
	"What?" the guard asked.
	"You're gonna strip.  Right now."
	The guard's face fell as she began unbuttoning her uniform.  
"I'm not straight, you know."
	"I don't wanna do anything to you.  I just don't want you 
following me.  Hurry up."
	The guard shrugged off her uniform and let it fall to the ground, 
leaving her in nothing but a bra and the dildo strapped to her hips.  John 
picked up the uniform, then nodded at Sabrina.
	"You okay?" he asked.
	"Yeah," the blonde said, glancing down at the plastic shaft 
jutting from her pussy.
	"You want me to break this up?"
	The blonde smiled at the guard.  "No."
	"Okay.  Different strokes, I guess.  What's the quickest way out 
of this city?"
	"There's a plane on the roof of the tower.  We use it to make runs 
over the Nuclear Zones.  You can fly right out of here...if you know how 
to fly, that is."
	"I do," John said.  "Thanks for all your help.  Enjoy yourself.  
And as for you..."
	John leaned forward to kiss the guard's left nipple in her bra.  
"You don't know what you're missing."
	"Breeder," the guard snarled.
	"I wish."  
	John ran down the hallway towards the stairs leading the upper 
floor.  He could hear the rhythmic slapping of flesh begin again soon 
after he was out of sight.
	John raced up the stairs to the upper level.  He led with his gun 
as he came up into a large chamber.  A trio of guards were chatting, but
broke up at the sight of him with cries of alarm.  John fired three shots, 
sending all three of them down to the ground with gurgling noises.
	He raced up another flight of stairs, then another, headed for 
the roof.


	Mrs. Ippy lay spread-eagled in a voluminous bed, her eyes 
closed.  Women stood at all four corners of her bed.  One kneaded her 
right foot.  Another kneaded her left foot.  A third massaged Ippy's left 
breast.  A fourth massaged Ippy's right breast.  A fifth woman was 
kneeling over Mrs. Ippy's crotch, lapping at her wet slit with her 
tongue.  A sixth woman was crouched over Mrs. Ippy's face, groaning 
as her muff was hungrily devoured.
	The door of the bedroom flew open.  One of her guards charged 
in.
	Mrs. Ippy stopped eating the sixth woman.  "I thought I gave 
strict orders not to be disturbed."  She returned her mouth to the 
dripping slit.
	"I'm sorry, madame," the guard yelled.  "But it's the man we 
brought to the dungeon.  He's escaped."
	Mrs. Ippy sat up, knocking the woman off her face.  "What?"
	Arachne shoved past the guard into the bedroom.  "I warned 
you.  I warned you about him, but you wouldn't listen..."
	"Shut up!" Mrs. Ippy yelled.  "Everyone, get off me!  Back to 
the dungeons!"
	The sixth slave-women hurried out of the room, gathering up 
their clothes off the floor as they left.  
	Mrs. Ippy sat up on her bed, pulling her gown around her 
body.  "Sound the alarm.  Lock the main doors.  I want every guard 
in the city looking for John Doe.  He is not to escape from this city 
alive!"
	"Yes, madame."  The guard ran out of the bedroom.
	Mrs. Ippy strode to the door.  As she passed Arachne, the 
biker woman grabbed her by her arm, halting her.
	"I warned you,"Arachne whispered.
	Mrs. Ippy swept her palm across Arachne's face in a ringing 
slap.
	"Yes," Mrs. Ippy said.  "You did, didn't you?"
	Then she marched out of the room, leaving Arachne burning 
in her wake.


	John emerged from the stairwell onto the roof.  The moon was 
high overhead, casting its pale light over Estrogen City and the swirling 
horizon that was still choked with dust.
	The plane was just where Sabrina said it would be, a Cessna 182 
RG sitting in the middle of the roof.  Its nose was pointed west towards 
the glowing Nuclear Zones in the distance.  John ran to the side door, 
pulled it open, and climbed into the cockpit.
	Guards came up from the stairwell.  They opened fire with 
machine guns.  John ducked, slamming the door shut, the hull ringing 
as bullets pounded it.
	"Hope this thing has gas," John murmured.
	He started the engine, watching the prop spin with a coughing 
roar.  Through his side window, John could see the guards approaching.  
He shoved his gun out to fire a round at them.  The guards scattered, 
diving for cover.
	John hit the brakes, then the throttle.  The Cessna rolled forward, 
picking up speed.  The runway was fairly small, even for a plane this 
size.  He hoped it would be able to take off, but didn't have time to worry 
about it.  More bullets were striking his plane as guards poured up from 
the stairwell.
	John rolled down the runway, the engine of his plane howling.  
The edge of the roof drew nearer and nearer.
	Mrs. Ippy came up from the stairwell, her gown rippling on her 
body from the wind of the prop-plane.  She watched the Cessna headed 
for the open air as Arachne came up behind her.
	"No!" Arachne screamed.  "Stop him!"
	John held his breath as the Cessna reached the edge of the roof.  
He pulled back on the stick.  The plane sailed out into the night air.  It 
wavered.  Then held steady.  It was airborne.
	"No!" Arachne howled.  "No, he got away!  He got away again!"
	Mrs. Ippy had a calm smile on her face as she said, "Yes.  So he 
has."
	"How can you be so calm?  John Doe is free!  You let him get 
away because of your twisted desires!"
	"You're right, Arachne.  And that is not a mistake I will make 
again.  John Doe cannot run forever.  We'll trap him again, and the next 
time we meet, he shall not get away."
	She watched the plane disappear into the duststorms of the Zone, 
the running lights remaining in sight for a few precious seconds before 
they were swallowed up as well.


	John sighed as Estrogen City slid out from under him.  The 
dustclouds of the Zone enveloped his craft like a thick fog, blocking out 
his vision.  He wasn't sure if the plane had enough gas to get him across 
the Zone, but that didn't matter.  Because John Doe was a free man again.  
The last man on Earth.
	"Terrific," John murmured to himself.  "I didn't even get to pick up 
my supplies."


THE END