The sun was rising on the horizon as I sighed hard on my bed. My sperm slowly dried on my stomach and chest as the first rays of light pierced the window. Next to me was an old porn magazine, in its pages, you could see a cheetah male body, naked, with a prodigious, healthy physique, a complete strangeness for my generation. I soaked my hands in the sticky white fluid and brought it to my face. A flimsy three-stranded web was slowly melting. What did it mean to me? It had been pleasant ... but fleeting, a delicious bite that had left me this unloved liquid as a memory that now was trickling through my hand.

 With difficulty, I sat up on the bed, washed my face with water from a bowl at the side of my bed, and got up. With a grimy cloth, I wiped my chest and put on a frayed orange T-shirt, and left my room. Smooth soup, carrots, onions, and potatoes could be smelled from the dark corridor. The hunters hadn't been able to find any clean meat for two weeks, and the lack of protein weighed on us all.

 Leaning against the wall, near the door of her room, my sister Jesica was smoking, her long blond hair, together with her slender feline body allowed to divert attention from her face, devoid of eyes. She had been born during a particularly strong radioactive storm, and the radiation had apparently melted her eyeballs. She took care of the children along with the midwives, she was quiet and hated being around many people. She smiled at me with her stained teeth when I passed her but she didn't say a word.

 The main room of the shelter was semicircular, with a fireplace against one corner. A huge pot, the kind used by the army, slowly simmered over the fire. Old Abigail, an otter, was slowly stirring the soup with her only hand, aided by a prosthesis. She had seen the bombs fall when she was a child, she saw how only two countries decided the fate of the rest of the world and she experienced the dehumanization of post-apocalyptic civilization firsthand. She was an ancient encyclopedia that refused to open her pages for fear that her memories would come true and horrors would flood the flimsy reality in which she now lived.

 In the middle of the room was Professor Quintana, giving a language class to his only four students, my younger brothers. Professor Santiago Quintana was an older Doberman and part of the first generation that was born in the apocalypse, and one of the lucky few who were able to graduate from the pontifical university, one of the few that remained standing and educating for free, until it was demolished by a group of bandits who wanted to settle in the area. One of the few cultivated minds left in the world shared the same roof as me and only dedicated himself to teaching children how to speak, with an old alphabet that he had received as a diploma when he left his alma mater so many decades ago.

 Near the front door, there was a blackboard where we wrote down the places where animals had been seen a few days ago. Two more people were arguing there, Oswald Deluca, a huge panther almost six feet tall, and Mario Hrabar, a black wolf slightly smaller than the feline. Oswald was my older brother, the oldest, and he had an orthopedic arm. As a child, he had fallen into a puddle of toxic mud and had to be amputated. Mario was two years younger than me, we found him half dead after a sandstorm, radiation had destroyed most of his teeth so he only ate soup or soft things that could break his gums.

 The three of us were the group of hunters, we carried wooden spears with metal tips made of scrap metal and an old rifle that we had obtained from a merchant a couple of years ago. Ivette, the camp leader, taught us the basics of hunting and surviving outdoors. Professor Quintana gave us a quick lesson in biology and first aid. We knew which animals to approach and which not, which flora could be dangerous, the places where there could be radiation, such as cleaning a wound, stopping bleeding, or immobilizing a fractured limb. We weren't very disciplined but every so often we were lucky and we could provide some fresh meat, which encouraged the family a lot and everyone welcomed us with smiles every time we returned, whether we were lucky or not.

 Our rest was almost over, in more or less half-hour we would go out on a new hunt, perhaps we have better luck than in the previous ones.

Taking heavy steps and fixing my hair, I approached the hunters, purposely bumping into my lupine brother, forcing him to sniff my chest closely. In less than a second, Mario separated from me, growling and covering his nose with his arm, "Disgusting!" he said angrily as I put on a smile and looked at him haughtily. The panther approached me confused and sniffed at me, smiled, and gave a little laugh, "Haha! Little horny rat!" he said, giving me a friendly push with his prosthesis. The three of us were very close, more than with most, let's say that the nights in the open had taught us to enjoy more intimate activities.

After breakfast, we get ready, take our expedition backpacks, and leave for the area we had agreed on. We'd made three trips east in the last week, Oswald's decision, and we'd always come back empty-handed. Today we agreed that we would march west, into a forest of shells. The shell trees are the shadow of what were thick-trunked trees, such as oaks, poplars, or yews, all of them mutated with radiation and opened, separating their bark as if they were several flattened tentacles that pointed upwards, trying to maintain their straightness, its bark fell in the form of sheets every few days as if they were autumn leaves, and this attracted several types of insects, which at the same time, attracted the attention of larger predators, generating one of the few trophic chains that existed in our area. This had caught Mario's attention the last time we had passed through the place, plus the lupine heard the last merchant that visited us that he had come across a pack of splitmaws in the area, and those creatures are never far from a food source.

We walked for hours, guiding us along an old national route, the concrete had cracked over the years, and huge colonies of fleas lived inside, they were not dangerous, but you could take three or four baths and several nights without sleeping to remove them from your fur. We once had to exchange our food rations twice the same week to get soap and water to bathe Oswald, who had crawled through the crevices to find backpacks that other explorers were hiding or something shit he told us. We didn't find any backpacks but we did find a lot of fleas. Mario had to burn his teddy bear, he never forgave Oswald for that.

Our basic exploration equipment was long ponchos that covered up to our boots, masks with air filters and goggles, rope and harness, a water bottle, and a knife made of recycled metal. In our backpacks, we carried everything else: tents, some firewood, pots, rations, first aid kit with gauze and some disinfectant, pieces of glass, and large weapons.

At noon we take a break. We had been walking north for five hours, now we had to turn west. By following the route with your eyes, you could see in the distance the silent ruins of a huge city, we knew it as 'The tomb', it was a source of radiation that killed any creature that dared to set foot in its vicinity. Professor Quintana once told Mario that 'The tomb' had been, many years ago, the largest city in the region, and inside there was a nuclear plant that continued to expel radiation. During our hunts, we had seen bright white smoke coming out of the city several times as if someone were pointing a huge searchlight into the sky. Old Abigail told us that those lights were the anger tainted souls of the thousands of people who lived in the city when the nuclear fire hit them all.

 We had a perfect day, there was no wind, and under the shade the weather was pleasant. We sat under a large tree with spiral branches, at the tips of the branches were small mouths that gasped, releasing pheromones that attract insects to devour them. I unpacked a guitar and began to play a quiet tune. Mario took out a rug and sat on it, took off his boots, put his poncho aside, and lay down on the cloth. Oswald took out a cigarette and leaned against the tree trunk to smoke. The wolf raised his head and growled angrily when he heard the ignition of the match, I smiled because I knew exactly what was bothering him. The tobacco smoke reduced with the trash put him in a bad mood, and even worse when the panther wasted one of the few matches that we got to light them. Resources were always a topic of discussion between the two of them, Oswald said that we should use everything necessary to survive, but Mario said that we would not survive if we misuse our tools.

My fingers were slowly strumming the old guitar strings as a stream of smoke hit my face, causing me to close my eyes momentarily. My older brother loved to tease us, especially Mario, who had very little patience for ... everyone. When I opened my eyes, Oswald was already puffing out his chest again to blow smoke but when he pointed in the direction of the wolf a barrage of dirt fell on his face, knocking him to the ground and causing him to choke on the smoke. "Sorry brother, I dropped a little dirt on your ass face!" said the lupine before reloading his hands with dirt and throwing it back at the panther, "Whoops I'm so clumsy!" Mario scoffed as Oswald spat and scooped the dirt out of his eyes.

As soon as he recovered, the panther lunged at the wolf and shoved a handful of dirt into its mouth, and squeezed its snout. "Little bitch I'm going to show you some respect for your big brother!" Oswald growled as Mario kicked and tried to shake him off. When the wolf was finally free, he began to spit dirt to one side and try to wipe his tongue with his hands. Oswald stayed on the lupine blanket, watching him, especially that firm bulge between the legs of his younger brother. "Ha Ha Ha! Dirty dog! How quickly you get activated when you have your big brother over you!" said the panther laughing and resting his real hand on Mario's erection. The wolf screeched and closed his legs as he grimaced in amazement, letting us see his only three teeth and his still-dirty tongue, "What do you think you're doing, idiot? We're in the open and in broad daylight!" yelled Mario, completely flushed. "Hmm... open, just how I like my wolfy brother," said Oswald laughing while taking off his shirt, grabbed the lupine legs, and pulled him against his crotch.

The view was hot but common. My brother Oswald was a filthy, rough, and insatiable lover, he always had been the alpha male of the group and never wasted any chance to remind us of our place. My butt was still sore by the visit he gave me in the solar shower yesterday. He was like a fucking methodical predator: prey alone, jump and immobilize, fuck till drop his seed, kiss on the forehead and leave. Sometimes I'm just glad he didn't like the pussy or he could get all the women in the camp pregness in less than a week.
 A sharp groan came from the wolf's muzzle. That barbed daemon took his target, and by the wolf's face, it hit bottom. Oh, man! I never understood how the fuck Mario bear those dry thrusts that Oswald always gift him. The wolf was shy and loud but he loved being rough fucked, even if it makes him hurt, fucking masochist howler thing. I just kept playing the guitar while my boner was wetting my pants. Maybe one day I could get drunk and ask my big brother to fuck me just like he does with Marius.

The action ended relatively quickly, ten minutes later, Oswald was getting up, brushing off his wet cock and adjusting his pants. Mario had stayed in the same position while he caught his breath, he was belly up, with his legs raised in the air and apart. Like a good older brother, I leaned over to look at his hole and recreate my eyes, it still wasn't closing, it was flushed, swollen and a white thread was constantly dripping from inside it, a true masterpiece that I would certainly remember tonight before going to bed. The wolf's gaze met mine and his face flushed with shame, instantly lowered his legs and covered himself with the poncho, "Damn! Don't look there!" he whimpered when I blew him a kiss. He was so sweet, grumpy, but sweet, handsome and smart. Maybe one day the three of us could move into the same room …

Half an hour later, we packed up our things and continued marching. A few black clouds began to cover the sky as a gentle wind kicked up some dust. Oswald immediately ordered us to put on our hoods, we slowed down, and pulled out a tarp to cover ourselves as we advanced. Sometimes the rain was not safe, it fell black, dirty and toxic, burned the skin, produced smelly wounds that took several days to heal and Professor Quintana had told us that the worst was occurring inside and that it was not felt until too late.

The panther caught our attention and then pointed into the distance. A small building, with several large windows, overgrown, semi collapsed, would be a perfect place to take shelter from the rain, black or not, it is always better to be dry.

As we got closer, the rain got stronger and the ground turned to mud. We entered the place through a hole in the wall and left the wet tarps on the ground, we took off our hoods ... something was wrong, the silence felt much more than the patter of the rain outside. Mario sat down and took a book out of his backpack, I exchanged glances with Oswald, he was nervous, his tail was wagging strangely. I stood still, not knowing what to do. My older brother put down his backpack and began to arrange something. I gave a sigh and sat against the wall, looking at the hole through which we had entered, I had my blade in hand, I felt as if someone was watching me.

In a quick turn, Oswald pulled the rifle out of his backpack, propped up on his prosthetic limb and pointed toward a dark corner of the room, "Who's there? Show yourselves before I blow your head off you!" screamed the panther.