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title: 'Chapter 6'
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## CHAPTER 6 " THE DRIVE "

Down the street came the ice cream truck, moving at a somewhat fast pace, music blaring. If they had been closer to the truck, they would have heard the pitter patter of feet underneath that tinny tune, because behind the ice cream truck came a hoard of little boys all running as fast as their feet could carry them. There must have been 15 or 20 of them, all running with their hands out, all clearly in full zombie state.

Even from where Zeke and Marco were standing, they could tell that this was NOT a good thing. Why were the boys acting so crazy for ice cream? I mean, sure, they were kids, but they weren’t like kids used to be. It was one thing to see little boys chasing after the ice cream man before the change happened, but now the only thing that could make boys run like that was-

Aha. There it was. As the truck drove by the rundown building where Zeke and Marco were staring out the window, they could see what was catching the boy’s attention. The double doors on the back of the truck were open, and in the rear stood a man in an all-white suit and little triangular hat. Come out of his white pants was, you guessed it. A HUGE cock. He was jerking it off with both hands, waving the vieny, red, throbbing meat at the drooling kids running behind the truck.

But it wasn’t just any cock in his hands. It was a famous cock, easily recognized because of the tattoo that had made headlines seven years ago. Tattooed on this man’s dick was an ice cream cone, the pointy end buried in his black pubic bush, and the top of the ice cream cone coming so that it looked like his fat, purple cockhead was a scoop of delicious ice cream.

“THE ICE CREAM MAN!” yelled Zeke and Marco in unison.

“We have to get back to the truck!” Marco shouted, turning back into the room.

“We have to save our sons!” Zeke shouted back, following him.


This was a moment when it was clear that the epidemic had done more than just turned all boys into cocksluts and all men into dominant, overly horny fuck gods. It had boned the men, made them closer with one another. Zeke and Marco were part of a tribe now, and in moments of panic like this, didn’t even have to communicate verbally. They just acted.

Marco turned around and grabbed Ashton into his big, bulky arms and pulled him tightly. Zeke dove for little Harry, who was still kind of in a stupor from getting double fucked. They took off running before the black guys could stop them, and Brent, the teenager who screamed like a woman when his pussy was munched on, followed the two Alphas out of the house and into the streets.

They got outside just as the ice cream truck turned a corner, but they could still feel Ashton and Harry wiggling in their arms, knowing there was a man waving a cock around nearby. Fucking sluts. Brent was somehow able to resist, though his pace slowed until the truck was out of sight. Then they were running again, and both Marco and Zeke were relieved to find that the truck was still locked. And judging by the way the police van was rocking back and forth, and the sounds coming from inside, the boys were most definitely still there.

“Shit!” said Marco, looking up at the sky. “I didn’t’ realize how long we were in there! It’s been two hours or so. Our kids must be…”

“Starving…” Zeke said, setting down Harry on the pavement.
Marco set down Ashton as well, and then wiped some of the frothy throat-slop the kid had left behind on his chest and wiped it on the little boy’s red, matted-down hair. The police officer took a look at his friend.

“What are we gonna do?” Marco asked.

“We have to go after that truck,” Zeke said.

“But our boys. They’ll go crazy if we don’t satisfy them—now.”

“Listen,” Zeke said, “you drive. You’re a cop – you know how to do the car chase thing. I’ll…I’ll take care of the kids in the back.”

“Are you sure?” Marco asked, his eyes wide. Was his best friend really gonna take a bullet for him and throw himself to those wolf pups? “There are three of them!”

Zeke only nodded in response, looking solemnly at the back of the truck.

“Here,” Marco said, reaching into the front of the truck. He handed Zeke a pair of handcuffs. “You won’t want them both attacking you at once. Keep one of them uh…confined…while you help out the other.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Zeke said, taking the handcuffs. “Brent, do you wanna join me?”

Brent looked shocked, then wrinkled up his nose. “No way… I’m not into that. I just…I don’t know. Ever since things changed, the only sexual thing I want is to have my ass eaten.” He blushed as he said this. “I don’t even want to fuck girls anymore…not that girls seem to be around. And I definitely don’t wanna do whatever you’re gonna do with your sons in there. Sorry I can’t help.”

“I understand,” Zeke said, nodding. “I guessed as much. I think…something about the way this illness has affected us. Men only want to get off, and boys like you all only want one very specific thing. It must have to do with age—young men under a certain age have ‘needs.’”

“Listen, Zeke, you can’t do this. Those three boys will rip you to shreds, and you know it. They’re in full on slut mode—it’s too much to handle. Why don’t you take care of the little ones, and give me cliff. I can satisfy him while I drive.”

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “But Cliff’s my son.”

“I know,” Marco said. “And Bry is mine. It’s a fair trade off.”

“I—I guess. It’s kinda like we’re a family now, huh? Your kid is my kid and all that shit. At least when it comes to using them.”

Marco just shrugged. “You open the door and I’ll grab Cliff and drag him up front, OK?”

Zeke nodded. They all waited a moment, and then Zeke reached forward and grabbed the door. As soon as he yanked it open, all the boys inside lunged at them, hungry for semen or cock or whatever the men had that they wanted. This was another moment when Zeke realized how lucky he was to have met Marco, for the man was truly a skilled policeman. He had obviously had experience dealing with crazed prisoners before, because he leaped into the back of the truck like a superhero. The muscled, beefy man shoved Mason and Bry back—a bit too roughly. I guess he forgot just how little his own son was, cause the little Zombie kid just went flying into the metal wall of the paddy wagon.

The little guys were only stunned for a second, but that’s all Marco needed to grab Cliff and pull him into his big, thick arms. He leaped out of the car and Zeke slammed the door shut.
“Hold still!” Marco barked to the thriving middle schooler in his arms. Zeke could barely recognize his middle son, Cliff. The little brunette boy—the only brunette in the family—was having an all out fit. He’d apparently been in the mood for some rough throat fucking coupled with verbal abuse—his need. He hadn’t gotten it, and now he was incoherent, freaking out, desperate to get what he craved.

Zeke walked over and before he knew what he was doing, had unzipped his jumpsuit to let his huge daddy cock flop out. He walked over to his struggling son and slapped him across the cheek with it as hard as he could—three time.

“CLIFF YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!” he barked, knowing it was what his boy wanted to hear. “STOP YOUR BITCHY WHINING AND GO SERVICE MR. PAZZO HERE IN THE FRONT SEAT RIGHT NOW.”

It worked, sorta. The boy stopped thrashing, though he was still wiggling a bit. At least it was enough that Marco could carry him to the front of the vehicle and throw him in. Brent took Harry and Ashton by the hands and led them to the front of the car as well.

Zeke pressed his ear against the closed doors leading into the back of the police vehicle He could clearly hear the two voices—so small and high-pitched, but so odd.

“Cuuuummmm…..daddy’s cummmmm….” said one voice, and right off the bat he knew it was his little guy, Mason.

The other voice was incomprehensible, just screaming and moaning in that little child voice. It made Zeke’s stomach flip. That was little Bry. Even smaller than Mason, Marco’s son was the one Zeke was afraid of. Zeke had fucked plenty of women, and had given many of them his dick up their ass. But he had never fucked a boy’s ass—never even imagined he would. Now he was about to fuck the unbelievably small hold of a grade schooler—his son’s best friend—while his own kid watched. But if he didn’t take action soon, things would get much, much worse.

Zeke took a deep breath and opened the doors of the van. Immediately the two small children leaped at him, clawing at the jumpsuit he wore. The kiddos each grabbed onto one of his tree-trunk thighs and began to scratch at the cloth covering his now throbbing erection. Why was it that whenever he got closer to his son, he could literally feel the cum in his massive nuts churning? What was that about?

Zeke pried the boys off of him, and grabbed his own kid by the shoulders. He pulled Mason toward one side of the windowless holding cell that was once used to house prisoners, and now housed boy sluts.

“I’m sorry son,” he said as he yanked one of Mason’s arms back and handcuffed the boy to a hook on one wall. “You’ll have to wait. You’ll be second, I promise. But I’m only cumming once, so you’ll get that load.”

Mason obviously didn’t understand. The kid was too hungry for jizz, and couldn’t comprehend the words Daddy was using. Instead, tears formed in his eyes and he began to thrash around desperately trying to get free from the handcuffs. Zeke didn’t have time to worry if the boy would hurt himself, because little Bry was pulling at him, still trying to get at that cock.

“I know, I know. You want me to deep dick you so you can lick your ass sauce of me. Calm down, boy,” he said. He realized he was talking to the kid as though the boy were a dog, but honestly, when the kids got like this, they were really more like animals than anything else.

Bry did calm down a bit, but only because he could tell what was coming. Zeke lifted the child up and set him down in position—face down on the hard, cold, metal floor, tiny ass poking up in the air.

Zeke unzipped his jump suit and his cock came flying out, landing with a heavy, wet thud on Bry’s lower back. The kid gave out a gaps, sigh and a moan all at the same time. God he was hungry for some ass juice.
Zeke stroked himself a little bit, looking down at Bry’s exposed hole. It was so pink and small—no bigger than a dime. He looked at his own cock head, which was about the size of a small apple. How in god’s name was it going to fit without killing the kid?

“FUCK ME!” Bry screamed in his tiny voice. Just the sound of it made precum ooze out of Zeke’s cock.
He pressed his massive fuck tool up against the boy’s quivering hole. “I’m going to, but I don’t wanna hurt ya, buddy. I’m gonna go nice and slow so—“

At just that moment, Marco decided to throw the car into gear. The vehicle lurched forward, throwing Zeke off balance.

THUNK. All at once, Zeke felt the entirety of his foot-long cock RAM into the child, who immediately let out a scream that would have put any police sirens to shame.

“Oh Bry! I’m so sorry! It was the car, I swear! Please forgive me!” Zeke cried out. But don’t be fooled, dear readers. Because as Zeke is saying this, he’s doing that signature circular move with his hips. Deep digging. Digging for gold. Basically he was rearranging every single internal organ little Bry had in him. In fact, Zeke doesn’t even pull out when he realizes that he can actually feel the child’s heart racing against the top of his cock head. Damn that was deep.

He began to thrust deep in the child over and over, really getting in there like he knew Bry needed. He had every intention of pulling out, cumming, and letting the boys do the cleanup, but unfortunately the car gave another lurch. At the same moment, Mason cried out, “CUM DADDY!” And though he was actually saying that he wanted cum from his papa, dad kind of misinterpreted it as a command. It was hard to think straight when you were 12 inches into a grade schooler.

“AH HERE YOU GO!” he shouted as he began to unload into the kid. He felt thirteen good shots before he realized what he was doing. He was wasting his cum, and Mason was going to be PISSED!

“Oh god!” he shouted as he ripped his cock out of the whimpering child, but it was too late. All of his sperm was now deep in the little boy. “Oh Mason, I’m sorry! I think I can get another load…here…I’ll just…”

Suddenly he felt tiny lips around his dick. Oh, that’s right. Disgusting little Bry liked to suck his ass juices off cocks—that was his need. Zeke stared down at the little guy as he stretched his lips around the cock head and sucked away happily. He stared up with his big green eyes at Zeke, and the man instantly saw the little boy come back to life. The zombie look left his eye as his need was satisfied.

“Can’t he just take it out of me?” the little boy said as he took a beak from sucking the head to lick the base of Zeke’s softening cock.

“I….I don’t know Bry. It’s pretty deep but…I guess we could try it.” He turned to his son as Bry continued to clean him. “Son, would you be OK eating it after it’s been in Bry?”

“CUM NOW DADDY!” was the only thing the brat could say, which was as good as a yes in Zeke’s eyes.
Zeke sat down against the front wall of the police van, near Mason but just out of the boys reach. He pushed his cock up in the air to get Bry’s attention—not that it was ever lost. Bry went to town immediately, sucking the dirty cock as if his life depended on it.

The boy was so small that it was no problem for Zeke to reach forward and get at his ass. He stuck his thumb into the boy’s fucked out hole. The little shitter was so wet and destroyed—it really pulled at his heart strings as he shoved his thumb into the kindergartner.

“Damn, son. I came a lot in your ass,” Zeke said as he withdrew his thick digit from the boy’s asshole. You probably guessed that it was covered in his own dick slime.

He just shoved that fat thumb into his whining son’s mouth, and that shut the boy up. He looked at his little boy sucking cum, and by the fifth fingerful, the light started to come back to the child’s eyes.

“That’s it,” Zeke said in a soothing voice as he rubbed his sperm all over his youngest son’s gums. Come back to daddy, Mason. No teeth. Come back.”

Eventually he was able to unhook his own son, and he sat there exhausted. He watched little Bry continue to gag and choke on dick, though his meat was clean as a whistle by this point. He looked down at his big feet to see his son smiling back at him, still sucking away on his little best friend’s recently fucked boy hole.
They continued like that for a while, until Mason started moaning. “Jesus, again?” he said, thinking his son needed more cum. But he was wrong.

“I’m thuck!” Mason said, looking up at his father with desperate eyes.

Zeke leaned in for a closer look. My god, the kid was stuck! His little pink tongue was stuck in Bry’s hole. The hole that had been purple and nearly inside out just moment ago was once again the size of a dime, and it had apparently closed up around Mason’s tongue.

“These things close up so fast,” he said. “I’ll get you off. This might hurt.” He grabbed Mason’s hair and gave the kid a quick yank, much like taking off a band aid.

His tongue popped out.

“I think that’s a sign that you’ve both had enough,” Zeke said, zipping up his jump suit. “Now let’s hang out until the car stops.”

He slumped back down on the ground, and the two little troopers snuggled up, one under each arm, nuzzling their faces into his armpits as they fell asleep.

The front of the vehicle was much less calm. Brent, Ashton and Marco were crammed into the cab of the vehicle, with little Harry resting on his big brother’s lap, looking out the window serenely.

Marco was in hot pursuit of the ice cream truck, however, and was swerving around crashed cars and other wreckage leftover in the boyfucking post-apocalypse he now lived in. He was cursing like a sailor as he drove, but he had finally caught a glimpse of the ice cream truck.

Unfortunately, the people behind the truck were pretty intelligent. As soon as they saw the cop car, the man in the back with his cock out leaped out and grabbed three of the children following him under one arm. He had dumped them into the truck and grabbed three more before climbing back in and then taking off again.
Whoever was driving the ice cream truck was a pro—someone who had experience outrunning the cops, no doubt. And the truck could move surprisingly quickly. It was an intense police chase, but the real chaos was happing inside the car.

It was all thanks to that horny problem child, Cliff. The middle boy. The one always making trouble and screwing up—well he was screwing up the whole operation right now.

Cliff was lying on his tummy across the laps of Harry/Brent and slimy little Ashton, so that his face was, of course, buried in the cop’s musky crotch. He was going to town on the police pole as though he was a starving African child who hadn’t eaten in weeks. Really, it had just been a few hours since he’d gobbled dick, but to a post-epidemic slut like him, that was a lifetime.

As he steered, Marco was slamming the young boy down on his 11-incher with his hard elbows. Cliff didn’t mind so much. In fact, the little guy gave a big smile when Marco accidentally elbowed him in the eye. Oh well. Cest ‘la vie for Cliff.

“I mfmfmpahh mfmf,” Cliff said.

“What was that, boy?” Marco said, using one hand to pull the greedy cocksucker off his pole.
“I like pain!” Cliff said, then wrestled free from Marco’s grip and plunged face first down on his cock again, swallowing the thing into his gullet.

“Oh you fucking slut!” Marco cried, and he began to unload in the kid’s throat, feeding him thick and chunky police sperm. Cliff didn’t bat an eye—unless you count the one he was just bonked in. That one he was squinting shut, and a bruise was already forming. But he just diligently guzzled cum. No doubt he was probably thinking how jealous his little brother would be if he knew what he was getting. Little Mason was an even bigger cum whore than Cliff.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can still drive!” Brent said as Marco orgasmed and maneuvered the car over a curb and down an alleyway. They were getting closer to the ice cream truck.

“Well I…I…what is that smell?” Marco said, as a very satisfied Cliff sat up, wiping the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t smell anything,” Brent said.

“Me neither,” said Ashton. Harry and Cliff nodded in agreement.

“No I smell something…something wonderful…it smells.. Oh god what is it?? JESUS!”

Marco was beginning to drive erratically. What was that smell? It was driving him insane. It was making his mouth salivate. It was…it was…it was coming from Brent.

“Oh god, Brent. It’s you…I can smell…your…Jesus can it be possible? I can smell your need.”

“How…how did you know I was getting needy?” Brent asked.

But Marco was too distracted by the smell. Suddenly he took his hands off the wheel and lunged for the teenaged boy. He threw Harry to the floor of the vehicle as he grabbed the jock teen’s thick thighs and yanked him, pulling the boy’s ass up.

Then Marco, completely forgetting that he was driving a car full of people in hot pursuit down a narrow alley, dove face first into Brent’s muscular globes and started lapping at the jock’s amazingly delicious hole.
Unfortunately, he only got three laps of his thick tongue in before they crashed into the dumpster.

***

On the other side of town, there was another group of men dealing with car troubles. It was the Beta guys of the group—Clark, Zeke’s next door neighbor, the trusty, tall, pale redhead; Dean, the quiet, smart father of Cliff’s best friend; and PacMan, the bizarre, kind of creepy, nerdy boy who somehow joined up with their group.

They had a batch of kid’s with them too: Nate, Clark’s young, teenaged son who had a penchant for sucking his dear old dad’s nuts; Jeremy, Dean’s son and Cliff’s best friend, who adored burying his pink tongue in adult asshole; and Luke, a random boy they had picked up who had a major thing for adult armpits.

“Hey, let’s call them the little lickers!” PacMan said cheerfully as he navigated the car through the Hispanic

part of town. It was oddly quiet, but PacMan didn’t seem perturped.

“We’re not calling them that,” Dean said from the backseat. “They’re our kids.”

Clark nodded in agreement. He was in the passenger seat.

“But they all love to lick! Nate loves nuts, Luke loves pits, and Jeremy loves him some sweet, hairy assh—“

“We’re NOT calling them that. Now just shut up and drive,” Clark barked at the teenager. It was bad enough that he was stuck with PacMan and Dean, some guys he didn’t know. Clark felt bad that he had been left out of the group—he thought he was part of the inner gang, with Marco and Zeke. But they had dumped him with the teenaged goon and the newcomer without a second thought.

The car fell silent for a while, until suddenly they were all shaken by a big BUMP, and then the tell tale sign of a tire popping. They veered off the road and into a fire hydrant, where they sat dazed for a moment.

“What the hell? These are new tires! There’s no way—oh shit.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a canister came sailing through the air, trailing bright red smoke. It must have been tossed out of a window or from around a corner or something, but it landed just underneath the front of the car. Within minutes, the entire vehicle was flooded with red smoke, and all of the men and boys inside became very, very sleepy.

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