It's freezing out here.

                   Rain dripped off the boy's hair and off his day old clothes, soaked completely through every garment, making his clothes cling tight to his already chilled body. Bumps had formed on his skin, trying helplessly to combat the chill of the cold wet weather. It's only now for the first time he began to regret deciding to run away from home. Perhaps some more bruises or welts would be a small price to pay for a dry bed.

                   ...No. He had decided when he left the house he'd rather die then return home. Of course, he would much prefer to live rather then die. But he needed a place to stay warm, stay out of the weather- And it's surprisingly hard to do in a city like this. Most doors were locked this late at night, Even the cardboard and tarp homes of the unfortunates were sealed up tight. If only he could stay dry like the rats he's seen now and then in the-

Sewer.

                   Well.. It can't be worse then the street, all wet. Getting in the sewer shouldn't be too hard. Just find a manhole right? As he walks down the wet street, he sees the shine of metal. A sewer manhole, snugly fit. The boy fits his fingers into the little pry slot and pulls- It stings, it hurts. His knuckles and fingers are bone white from wet chill, and even touching the metal hurts. The heavy iron cover wont even slide out of place.. He can feel tears begin to push through his eyes, when, from the corner of his sight, he catches a flash.. a little red light.. And he looks aside. Water flows down the curb and into an open flood drainage, just large enough for the boy to fit. Water splashes under his feet as he runs and drops to the ground, already soaked, getting dirty wont hurt at this point. He slides his way inside, But slips, and falls to the concrete below, landing on his rear.

There's nothing scary in the Dark.

                   Much darker then above, even in the rain, it takes some time for his eyes to start to see. It seems like every mile or so, the dull yellow glow of a service light reaches the boy's eyes. But at least, no rain reaches the boy's head anymore. It is a bit warmer, through it's harder to breath. He is in a sewer now, and the stench is strong. But.. not entirely horrible. The pathway in the service tunnel he sits on is damp, and now and then the murky "water" (if it can be called that) laps up onto the edge of the walkway. Not as bad as it is up, But it could be better. Pulling his wet backpack tight over his shoulder, He starts to walk.

                   It's a long way to walk. With no landmarks other then the occasional light, or a turn now and then and pipe and drain, Everything looks the same as the last few feet. He turns left sometimes, and right now and then. Wandering into the labyrinth of pipes and rot and stink. His feet begin to ache, skin wrinkled from moisture, still cold, so tired. Everything blurs together, and just as his legs begin to feel like lead, He catches another red flash, eyes.. The eyes of a black rat. The boy sits down, and sets his backpack in his own lap, pulling out a wrapped granola bar. Bite.. chew.. even his jaws ache.

                   He looks down.. the rat is still there, watching. Not at all afraid of the human boy it seems. He breaks off a chunk of his food and shares it with the rat, Who snatches it right up, gleaming red eyes bulging a few times as he scampers away. The boy thinks to himself, perhaps it's also time to scamper away. He slinks the backpack over his body and starts down the tunnel.. But this time.. he keeps seeing a segmented tail just out a corner.. He keeps turning that corner, following,

Keep following the rat. They know how to survive.

                   Further into the sewer, he comes upon a rusty old door. We wraps his fingers about it's handle, still so cold, but at least this one's unlocked The door scrapes over the floor as he pulls it open, and he closes it behind himself. It's not nearly as smelly in this room as the sewer. Several large, thick pipes line one wall, each with a wheel, red paint flecking off the wheels, rusty, broken chains draped about the wheels. A long forgotten maintenance room. Inside is a metal shelf with a few boxes, canned good, military freeze dried goods, a rusty metal sign hangs on one wall, depicting the old Y signal of fallout. Likely a forgotten shelter.

                   A noise catches his attention, a heavy fabric thump. He turns just in time to catch sight of a thick military survival bedroll fallen from the shelf above. It's been a long night.. Nearly freezing, so tired, The boy strips quickly out of his soggy clothes, flinging them as far from his body as he can. He uses a different bedroll to rub the wetness from his body, now very wrinkled from the rain, And crawls over the bedroll.. He pulls it's thick blanket like flap over his body, and zips it up. It's big. Very big, but it's thick and heavy and insulated.. He can already feel himself warming up again.

Such a long long day. Sleep. Rest. You deserve it. You're a good child.

                   It's warm.. He's warming up now.. He closes his eyes.. It smells like old people, sure.. But there's no one down here to hurt him. He's safe. A feeling he's never really had before. Safe. It's a little lonely.. but not at all scary. And so the boy closes his eyes, and he falls to sleep much more easily the he ever has in his life.

                   In this world without a sun, time is meaningless. How long does the boy sleep? Is it morning? Is it after noon? It doesn't matter. He's gotten the rest he needs by the time he's woken up. He's woken to.. moisture. Not like the rain though, no, this is a warm sensation.. almost ticklish, just along his toe. The warmth is pleasant, and the boy lays there, enjoying himself, enjoying the feeling. He's struggling between the pleasant sensation, and the groggy desire to return to sleep, eyes still closed. More warmth.. this time, he feels it against his fingertips. He spreads his finger, and the warmth travels between his fingers.. something tickles between his fingers.. like fur.. no whiskers.

                   That's not right.

                   His eyes open, vision blurred from awakening.. but as he focuses, He can see the gleam of hundreds of tiny rubies, all around him, the glow belonging to the rats eyes. Rats watch him from the shelves, from the pipes, and even from the floor around him. Black rats, brown rats, mottled rats, even a white one or two, every one watching over the boy. He carefully lifts the blanket, and he sees four in with him, one near his shoulder, one near his hips. The warmth comes from the pair licking between his fingers, and the one licking his toe.

Stay calm. Don't panic. They won't harm you.

                   He can't help himself. The warmth and attention, even the bit of shame from being so exposed, The boy's cock lifts on it's own, flagging high, flagging proud, even twitching every time the rat at his foot licks his toe again. The rat at his shoulder scampers over the kid's chest, tiny claws scratch his flesh, but don't really hurt. The rat sets up, so the boy can look him over. And it's definitely very much a him, judging from the heavy, huge ballsac (for a rat) teabagging his chest. With the hand not being soaked with rat saliva, he carefully brings it near the scruffy black fur of the creature sitting on him, tentatively touching his back.. And the feral creature pushes back, eager for touch. It's that little touch that his fear just melts away. The creatures around him have no malice.

We are all just survivors. We all just make due with what we have.

                   Relaxed, and.. perhaps horny. Very horny.. his modest little cock is stiff as a nail really.. But very curious, the boy's fingers explore the small rat's body, carefully.. touching his tail.. scaly, rough, segmented. He can feel the tiny claws on his chest now. His smooth fingers brush through the scraggly fur of the rat's under-chest. Lower still and he touches the tiny sleeve that runs along the rat's underbelly, and the rat's body bends, forelegs grasping the boy's wrist as it grinds against his digit, a small, stiff slender length sliiding out along the boy's finger.

                   As if that was the moment everyone was waiting for, the rats watching all jump down, off the pipes, off the shelves, hindreds of tiny claws grasp the boy's exposed flesh wherever they could. More tongues, so many tongues, but all are careful to keep the boy's face clear so he can watch over the sea of scrappy fur and tails.. not all the warmth is tongues, the boy soon figures out, a few more of those long slender rat cocks slide between his toes, between his fingers, alongside and under the boy's ballsac, One rat lays over the boy's copck, madly licking at the boy's head, another rat on his chest licking right along the first, cleaning, hungrily swallowing the preseed the boy drools his preseed.

There's no shame in a sewer. Only saftey, filth and each other.

                   The one the boy touched earlier, the one the boy fed earlier, crawls over the boy's face, dragging his ballsac along the boy's smooth chin. It's shaft long and (relatively) slender, bobbing in front of the rat, he rests in on the runaway's lips. The boy can smell the damp wet musk of all the rats, all of their rut, all of their need.. a pleasant sort of stink like old damp sacks of grain kept in a wooden barn. His arm lifts from the sea of rutting ratlings, damp and slimy with drool, with splotches of seed and preseed, and his hand rests on the single rat's back, encouraging the feral creature as his lips slip about his slender length like a straw.

                   As he tastes the slimy rut of a needful rat, the boy's legs lifts, several snout and whiskers pushing against his thighs, wedging into the cleft of his rear to sniff, to lick, to kiss around the pucker of the boy's little backdoor. The rat over his face thrusts and shudders rapidly, already squirting a bitter salty cream. Is it over..? No, the rat's still on his face, hugging his cheeks, grinding.. rats are just quick. They could just cum and cum and cum, and cover his toes, his legs and thighs with spoogey cream.. Its when a thin, slimy little bit pushes against the boy's backdoor that his stiffy twitches and feeds the licking rats the thick salty milk they've been so desperately trying to drink from his peeslit. Sqweeks, chuffs, grunts, chittering of teeth, whiskers everywhere, licks, cocks, as one tine shaft squirts within his bowels, another one quickly replaces it, so many rats so eager to try this exotic new boy out.. The rat on his face relaxes, and begins grooming between the boy's eyes.. The sea of fur calms, as more and more rats are spent on the boy's body, until, one last squirt within his bowels, everything is still.

                   The boy's ass drools with the seed of countless rats. His skins coated and covered with a layer of the rat's love slime, and atop of that, the rats lay curled, some with eyes closed, some with eyes looking off, bulging. The taste of rat fills his mouth, the stink of rat fills his nostrils, his cock aches from the relentless tongues, one even now very idly lapping along the boy's peeslit.

You're home. Rest with us. We'll forage soon. We'll protect you. You'll protect us. You're safe. We're safe. No more worries.. You don't even smell human now. You're one of us.

                   The boy's eyes close once more.. Now, he's not even lonely. It's time to sleep, and rest again with his new furry friends.