27 Hours After (Furry, Sex-Crazed Huge-Dicked Beasts, Male Domination)

This story is written to stand alone, but it is a sequel to 27 Minutes After. As you may guess, the whole thing is jus a lil bit of a horror movie parody :P Enjoy!

27 hours after containment breach, a crash and a rumble echoed across the river. The old drawbridge shuddered and swayed under the cooling winds of the night, reluctantly dragging its immense central platform down one more time. Alan and the last few survivors had managed to hole up here long enough to make a plan. And Alan was it.

He was alone in the pickup, now. The tiger wrung slowly at the steering wheel. In the rearview, Josie stood watching with a soft, fretful expression. That bear, Dreck, stood with a paw on her shoulder, and Alan looked away. That kid, the skunk, was off to the side, looking about as out of it as always. Just the four of them left. That's why he'd agreed, really. Three was few enough.

The lights on the bridge below picked out patches of the horde. Savage creatures, once his friends and neighbors, now swollen with muscle and overwhelmed with primal lust. They had lapsed into a violent orgy when their prey fell beyond reach. They were only noticing the drawbridge's descent slowly.

Alan flicked on the radio and searched a bit. He was going to need some noise. Some of the channels were dead, but he could still pick up a few. A screech resolved into the beginning lashes of a vicious metal tour de force. He turned the volume as far as it would go, and his eardrums throbbed as the vocalist harmonized and swore.

Heads poked over the edge of the platform. Golden eyes swung his ways, slitted and flashing in the headlights. He slammed into the gas, and metal angels heralded his launch into the seething masses. Skulls cracked and bodies broke under his bumper, tires rolling over muscle-bound limbs as that hunk of metal he called a truck tore through the horde to meet solid road. Only one tire made contact-- the rest anchored on crushed flesh. He tore out all the same, plastering yowling beasts to his hood as the guitars revved.

Plowing through the creatures, Alan was thankful for every entirely unnecessary ounce of horsepower the beast of a truck could muster. It was Dreck's-- football, guns, and overly powerful automotives seemed to be his answer to life. When people started turning into sex zombies, he bet the bastard couldn't have been happier. How Josie could like such a hulk of a man was beyond him. Not that he knew much about what she liked in a guy, he supposed.

He was swerving to avoid the creatures, now-- not so much to keep from hitting them, but to not hit any dead on. Flinging a creature off the corner bumper was easy, but it was hard to shake off one that got nice and planted on the hood. He took the first turn as fast as he dared, managing to swing off a battered, oversized dingo th