by Misty Vixen

The Pale Redhead takes place in a post-apocalyptic erotica universe. In it, decades have passed since an unknown virus ravaged the entire population of the planet. Half of humanity was turned into groaning, mindless zombies. Half of those that remained were mutated into a variety of strange sub-species. Some adapted to water. Some adapted to plant life. Some took flight. The strange melting pot of humans and inhumans attempted to survive among the shattered ruins of planet Earth. Naturally, sex between humans and inhumans is regarded with everything from unease to outright hostility. But that just makes it a lot more fun.

Justin stared down the barrel of a shotgun and felt fairly confident that the day could not possibly get any worse. In fact, he was pretty sure that he was going to die. Four filthy men in grubby, patchwork clothing stood around him, staring at him with malicious grins. In a way, he honestly just felt flat out embarrassed.

He had made it exactly three weeks on his own before, apparently, he was to die. He had thought that he was better prepared for this. And yet here he was, on his knees with his hands behind his head, looking at a shotgun and probably his own death. They had jumped him, hit him over the head, and kicked the crap out of him for a little bit. Now he hurt all over, but that seemed inconsequential in the face of death.

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