DS Chapter 16

The pleasure, more overwhelming than any climax, nearly turned my vision white. Trembling like an electrified mouse, my toes pointed as I gasped for breath, lifting my head.

Logan, with a disheveled appearance, was quietly thrusting his hips while looking down at my convulsing body. I reached out desperately, my voice strained with need.

“Hngh, if you’re about to come, tell me. Hmm?”

Even though I’d been momentarily lost in the main course, I couldn’t miss out on dessert.

Logan squinted slightly with one eye and pulled out. He moved upward, jerking his member as if to release onto my stomach.

‘Why not just do it on my face?’

I parted my lips slightly, waiting eagerly for him to finish. Just then, the cloudy liquid spilled onto my stomach, and I hurriedly scooped it up, not letting any go to waste.

“…What are you doing?”

He asked, bewildered, but I didn’t hear him.

After licking up the mess clean, I crawled toward him, making sure to take in every last drop still clinging to the tip of his member.

I wanted to suck hard, but I knew that would get me thrown off again. I was a fast learner—like a zombie, no, a person with keen instincts.

Once I had finished, my mind slowly cleared. I could feel his gaze burning into the top of my head, making my face prickle with embarrassment.

I must’ve looked like a total madwoman. Even I felt like a crazy person.

I gave a sheepish smile and lifted my head hesitantly. Trying to act casual wouldn’t convince Logan, though. In moments like these, mixing truth with lies was always the best tactic.

“I don’t want to eat people, I swear. It’s just… your semen tastes really good.”

I flashed a deliberately awkward smile, pretending to be innocent.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me, as if assessing whether I was in my right mind. His gaze trailed up and down my body, checking my state with suspicion.

Then, he got off the bed and gestured for me to stand.

“Get up.”

It was a command. A moment ago, he had been so sweet, treating me like a lover.

But feeling guilty, I jumped to my feet like a trainee facing their drill sergeant. I clasped my hands together and stood there, staring at him obediently.

I’m not a zombie, I just really like semen. Sure, I like spit, sweat, and blood too, but… Anyway, there are plenty of people with unusual appetites in the world.

Some people eat rocks. Others eat dirt, bugs, metal, or glass. Isn’t that amazing? I’m just one of those people with a strange appetite. Nothing too alarming.

I wore the most innocent and pure expression I could muster, as if declaring my innocence.

Of course, Logan didn’t just let it slide. He checked my pulse, body temperature, and even inspected my pupils before taking a blood sample.

I fidgeted anxiously, fearing he might send my blood to a zombie research lab.

“Are you mad? Because I ate your… semen?”

My voice quivered as I asked, on the verge of tears, looking terrified. Logan covered his eyes with his palm. After a moment, he lifted his head and let out a long sigh.

Then he suddenly stepped forward, wrapping me tightly in his arms. He squeezed my waist with both arms, rubbing his face into my neck while groaning in a distressed tone.

“I’m sorry, I was just worried all of a sudden. You know I wouldn’t get mad at you.”

Regretful over his sudden, harsh behavior after we had sex, he apologized to me. Feeling his emotions well up, I subtly smiled as I embraced him.

“…I was scared you suspected I was a zombie. If I turned into one again, you’d abandon me.”

“I’d never abandon you. I never have.”

“Thank you.”

Thank you, Logan. For not doubting me, for giving me another chance, for holding me so gently like this.

I held him back, feeling the warmth of his embrace. But I couldn’t help but chuckle, which put me in a bit of an awkward position.

What was this sneaky feeling of malice rising within my chest? I should be touched, moved, and grateful for his kindness.

Yet, I selfishly felt relief, thinking.

‘I made it through this time, looks like this much is okay, I can do it again next time.’

This emotion I was feeling, one that I couldn’t even recognize in myself—it scared me.

* * *

Since that day, I’ve become hypersensitive to Logan’s scent. I could even tell when he got home just from the smell, even while still inside the room.

Logan’s home! Must have been a rough day at work. He’s sweating a lot.

I hung onto the barred, padlocked window like a prisoner, sniffing the air. I could see him just stepping out of the car.

Logan started undressing right in the yard. He unzipped his black work uniform, shrugged off his jacket, and would likely toss his bulletproof vest somewhere once he got inside.

I didn’t need to watch him to know exactly what he was doing.

Click-

As soon as the door opened, I rushed at Logan, pressing my nose into his thin t-shirt. I took a deep breath, and the burning thirst in my throat was slightly soothed.

I had been waiting for him all day, my thirst and hunger building to unbearable levels. Of course, I was irritable—he was wrapped in layers of clothes while I was dying to get closer.

After a few episodes of me throwing fits, nearly ripping his clothes out of frustration, Logan had no choice but to start undressing from the yard before coming inside. Occasionally, he’d sigh in exasperation.

Clinging to his chest like a koala, I inhaled deeply before lifting my head. I could smell blood—faint, but present. It wasn’t Logan’s blood, though.

“What did you do today? You’re 15 minutes later than usual.”

“A colleague got injured. I had to take them to the hospital.”

Logan’s blood smelled like thick, rich chocolate—definitely over a thousand calories. But the scent coming from his clothes right now… was like the greasy stench of pork, totally unappetizing.

“Take off your clothes. You reek.”

“Oh, sorry. I sweated a bit from all the running.”

He clumsily stripped off his clothes. Logan knew I was sensitive to smells. He couldn’t possibly be unaware, considering how I pressed my nose against him and sniffed every time he got home.

At first, he was embarrassed, thinking he smelled bad and tried to push me away. But now, resigned, he followed my requests without a fuss.

Anyway, there was nothing wrong with Logan’s sweat. In fact, it was almost a shame when it faded away. What bothered me was that he carried the scent of someone else.

‘Why? Could zombies be picky about people?’

Was I some kind of gourmet zombie, not just eating anything? I couldn’t understand why the smell of other people’s blood didn’t make me salivate.

‘I’d like to ask Logan about it, but… no, I can’t.’

Whenever I act like a zombie, Logan gets a bit scared. He orders me to stand up straight and starts checking my body. Every time he does, I’m terrified that he might send me off to a zombie research facility.

A hopeless case, a failed cure. I fear they’ll judge me like that, and the thought constricts my heart.

What would happen to me if I were sent to a zombie research facility? I’d probably be disposed of. Or maybe they’d run all kinds of experiments on me to figure out why the treatment failed.

Becoming a test subject, enduring countless experiments—having my flesh torn, being drugged, and drained of blood… The mere thought of it is horrifying.

As my sexual desire, hunger, and obsession toward Logan grew stronger, so did my fear of being abandoned by him. The plan of getting a clean bill of health and proudly moving on had disappeared long ago.

I was slowly starting to accept that I wasn’t normal.

‘I have enough sense to know that. I’m not an idiot.’

Drooling over other people’s bodily fluids and blood couldn’t possibly be normal. As I became more aware of my symptoms, the idea of independence vanished entirely from my mind.

Even if I left Logan, I’d probably be reported as a zombie and either dragged to a research lab or killed on the spot. Logan was the only person capable of dealing with someone like me.

So, until I was fully cured—until I truly felt like I was back to normal—I planned to stick to him like glue. Of course, I’d also have to keep hiding this bizarre state of mine from him.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Let me suck you off before you do.”

I grabbed Logan’s arm as he headed toward the bathroom. His face froze in shock at my words.

“…Please, stop.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“I’m not fine with it.”

“Please, just once, before you shower.”

I clasped my hands together, pleading. Logan turned his head away, unable to look at me. His tightly shut eyes showed just how troubled and embarrassed he was.

But I didn’t care about his embarrassment. The overwhelming desire boiling inside me was far more important. If he told me to get on my knees, I would have done it in a heartbeat.

Where had my pride gone? It seemed like being infected with the zombie virus was making me more animalistic than human.

Dignity and pride were fading, replaced by animalistic cravings, desires, hunger, and lust. My eyes burned with need. I felt like I would do anything to satisfy this gnawing hunger.

Begging, pleading, dropping to my knees? It was as easy as breathing.

Do you know the pain of never quenching your thirst, like burning sand scraping your throat? Or the cruel hunger, as if a small demon was clawing at your stomach from the inside?

After hours of enduring that kind of suffering, it became nearly impossible to stay sane.

I was amazed at my own restraint for not knocking Logan down and draining his blood. I was in such agony, torn between a savage sexual desire, or perhaps a hunger that was even closer to the truth.

“Please, just give me your cock. I want to suck it… Oh, come on, give it to me already!”

I hoped he understood that even asking so politely took immense patience on my part.

Eventually, Logan gave in. With a troubled look on his face, he unzipped his pants, and I quickly dropped to my knees, pressing my face against his member.

As Logan stroked my hair, he muttered something under his breath, sounding gloomy.