Renée Wallace

After hiding out for two months of the outbreak in her barricaded apartment, Renée had finally run out of food. Knowing full well she'd starve, she had but to go look for more supplies. Her building had been quiet for quite some time, so she figured she would start with her neighbours places. Most of them had left early on, and the rest she didn't know what became of them.

She slipped on a tight tank top over her C cup breasts and leggings to contend with the heat and to give her mobility should she run into any trouble and have to flee. She grabbed the Beretta 9mm lying on her desk and made sure it was cocked and ready. She'd never fired it before but she wasn't going to hesitate if any futas showed up. The only one she had seen had been a blonde one at the supermarket, but it had been preoccupied, burying its massive cock inside a skinny little woman it had pinned against a car. She had frozen watching them, the woman screaming for help at first, until the futa had buried it's throbbing member up to the hilt, and the woman's crys turning to moans of exctasy. Shaking the thoughts of those things from her mind, she slipped on shoes.

She unblocked the front door and silently peered through the hole. She could see nothing in the hall straight ahead, glad she'd gotten an apartment at the end of the hall instead of in the middle, and then crept out silently. There wasn't even the whisper of any animals in the apartment building, it had been weeks since she had heard signs of life nearby. She paused and listened for any sound of movement but all she could hear was her own breathing, and a dog barking somewhere far away.

Renée debated which floor to search first, the 5th floor above her, her floor or the 3rd floor below. She was pretty sure one of her neighbours on the 5th had stockpiled in the first week of the virus' outbreak but it was all a gamble now.