It’s 2035… the entire Earth is a hell-scape. Brainwashed furries roam every inch, and we few survivors have been forced underground.

Supplies are limited, and running out fast. I open the last can of green beans we have left as my poor wife stitches some burlap into a replacement shirt. Only ten of us, down here. We will be lucky to survive the month.

There’s a knock on the makeshift wooden door. I open it, and find Anderson there. A quiet man in his thirties, he’s always been a good friend to me.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any fresh water I could borrow, would you?” he asks, wringing his hands together. I look over at our stash and feel the pangs of panic begin within me. Only 4 bottles left. I bury my nerves, and with trembling hands I give him one.

“Take this.” We only have each other down here. With teary eyes he thanks me and closes the door.

As I stand there, looking at the door, I contemplate the life that could have been. In another world…

Another knock at the door jerks me back to reality. Could it be Anderson again? Perhaps he forgot to ask me something. I step up to the door and touch the handle…

“UwU WhAt’s ThIs?” My head rises slowly to meet the cold, dead eyes peering in through a crack in the door.

I stumble back frantically as my wife shrieks in terror. I have to find something to save us. The shrieks of our friends reach us, mingled with sadistic laughter. Our door is being pummeled in, more cracks forming. A pink furred paw claws at the top corner; it looks like it was once white. It glistens in the light of the propane torch.

My fumbling arm finds what it seeks; our flare gun, with one shot left. My wife is huddled on the other side of the doorframe. If this goes bad hopefully the door will swing open and hide her. I level the flare gun just as the door shatters completely off it’s hinges. Ah… so this is the end.

Time stands still as I look at my wife one last time amid shrieks of “Gimme your bulgie!” and “Daddie’s cummies!” I mouth those three special words to her: she mouths them back through silent sobs. Just as the first, a purple wolf, reaches me, I pull the trigger. The flare sails over his shoulder and hits my wife. Her pained screams last only a small moment: must have been a good shot.

I completely surrender. There’s nothing more I can do now that she’s safe. They’ve restrained me now, but I don’t have the energy to move. What a cruel fate. The last thing I see is a fox voresuit, lowering itself down over me. The last thing I smelled was the crusted cummies matted in the fake fur. And the last thing I tasted was the bittersweet kiss of death, all too late.