Bonnie, long infected

Its name used to be Bonnie McMullin. While it was still female, she'd been 5'6" with red hair and perky B cups. Now, the infected futa stood a foot taller, with impressive double Ds and a pendulous 10 inch cock and its female sex organs had long since closed up. It still had the pretty red hair, which was now matted and stringy from not being washed for so long.

Bonnie had been turned futa at a makeshift refuge at the mall, in the early days of the outbreak. There had been a few hundred refugees there, barricaded in, with some mall security guards and a few retired ex-military types guarding the place. Bonnie had got there with her best friend Sally, and had been let in just before the guards locked the doors.

The futas had got in through the back door of a closed shop near the food court. That shop had been long boarded up and nobody really remembered it was there, so nobody thought to post a guard there. The futas found a locked, but flimsy, door from outside the mall into that shop and pounded their way through. As soon as they charged their way in, everyone panicked. The makeshift security **** did their best, but were not a match for the horde pouring in and were low on ammo anyway. About half the refugees managed to escape in the commotion, including Sally, but Bonnie had been caught.

After a few hours buried under a never-ending wave of futas, taking an apparently endless flood of infected cum in all her holes, Bonnie was one of them. Now the infected dickgirl was part of a pack of similar infected prowling the ruined city. Fresh prey is becoming scarcer these days and the thing that used to be Bonnie was becoming anxious and afraid in her animal instincts, not just perpetually horny.