Crossdressing To Survive An Apocalypse [BL]

The knock on the door echoed louder, a slow and deliberate rhythm that seemed to throb in time with Prisitsky's pulse. Each beat was a heavy weight against his chest, pulling the air from his lungs, suffocating him in the stagnant silence. The words in Skyy's hands — the diary, still trembling — etched their meaning into his mind. You cannot run from what grows inside you.

Prisitsky's head swam. He pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to push back the tide of panic rising in his throat. The room was dim, but the oppressive weight of the creature on the other side of the door filled every inch of space. It wasn't just the fear of the thing behind the door; it was the growing sensation that something was changing within him, twisting through his veins. He could feel it. The whisper, the hum, the presence of something darker than mere infection.

The creature wasn't just outside. It was inside.

Skyy was still holding his shoulders, the younger man's grip firm, but his eyes flickered with uncertainty, a deep worry that mirrored his own. Skyy's face was pale, too, but there was something else in his expression — an unspoken understanding that what was coming wasn't just a matter of survival. It was personal. The creature had marked them both, and now they were running out of time.

Prisitsky swallowed hard, his throat dry. His legs still wobbled, the weak muscle memory of exhaustion threatening to collapse him. The pounding in his chest grew louder, an internal drumbeat in sync with the creature's relentless knocking.

"Skyy…" Prisitsky's voice cracked, raw and strained. "What's happening? What does it mean? What is this thing?"

Skyy's grip tightened on his shoulders. His voice was steady, but the edge of panic laced each word. "We don't have time to figure it out, Prisitsky. I need you to focus. Whatever's inside you — it's tied to the creature. It's not just some virus or infection anymore. I don't know how much longer we can keep running from it."

The knocking stopped. The air grew colder, thicker. Skyy's breathing quickened, his eyes darting to the door as if expecting it to burst open at any second. The words in the diary — the unsettling passage that had appeared when Skyy opened it — replayed in his mind.

The researcher watches. The creature waits. The walls whisper. He will not leave this room alive.

Skyy had ignored the warnings once. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

"Prisitsky," Skyy said, his voice hoarse, "we need to get out of here."

Prisitsky shook his head, trying to clear the fog that clouded his mind. He could feel the creature behind the door, its presence pressing down on him like a physical weight. He felt a chill crawl up his spine, creeping beneath his skin. He turned to look at the door, but the steady rhythm of knocking started again — louder now, more forceful.

It knows we're here.

Skyy moved quickly, grabbing the diary and shoving it into his jacket pocket. "Come on. We don't have time to think. We need to move."

Prisitsky's legs felt like lead as he stumbled after him, his body still weak from exhaustion, the mysterious force inside him sapping his strength. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think straight. All he could do was follow Skyy as they sprinted down the hallway, the flickering emergency lights casting long, twisted shadows.

Behind them, the creature was still knocking, but there was something else. A faint scratching sound, like the sound of claws dragging against metal.

Prisitsky's breath hitched in his chest. He turned his head, his eyes searching the dark hallway for any sign of movement. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see it — the creature was closing in on them. The space between them and it was shrinking, the shadows growing longer with each passing second.

It's coming.

Skyy shot him a quick glance, his eyes wide. "Keep going! Don't stop!"

Prisitsky gritted his teeth and pushed forward. His legs burned with every step, but the need to survive, to escape, drove him forward. His body, now trembling with both fear and exhaustion, responded to the primal urge to run. The hallway twisted, the walls seemed to pulse with each beat of his heart. The dim light overhead flickered again, casting jagged shadows that danced around them.

Behind them, the scratching sound grew louder. The creature was right on their heels.

Skyy pushed open a heavy metal door, and they stumbled into the room beyond. It was filled with old, abandoned medical equipment, long-forgotten experiments scattered haphazardly across rusted tables. It was a mess — but it was a place to hide, for the moment. Skyy slammed the door shut and locked it with trembling hands. The thick metal door groaned under the pressure from the other side.

Prisitsky leaned against the wall, panting, his hands pressed against his chest as he tried to steady his breath. His mind raced, but he couldn't catch up to it. He couldn't make sense of anything. The creature, the diary, the whispering that had burrowed deep into his thoughts — it was all too much.

Skyy was already flipping through the diary again, the pages trembling in his hands as more ink bled across the surface. The words were appearing faster now, almost too fast to read.

It is not an infection. It is not a parasite. It is not a disease.

Prisitsky's fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "Then what the hell is it?"

Skyy's face was drawn tight with worry as he scanned the words. His lips parted in shock, his breath catching in his throat. He quickly turned the book around to show Prisitsky.

"It's a seed. And you are the soil."

Prisitsky felt his stomach drop, the words like a punch to the gut. He staggered backward, his head spinning.

The creature outside let out a low, guttural growl. It was closer now. Much closer. The door rattled on its hinges, the sounds of claws scraping against metal sending a chill down Prisitsky's spine. His body stiffened, and he could feel the whispering again, faint but persistent, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

It's inside you.

Skyy's voice snapped him back to the present. "Prisitsky, focus. We need to get out of here. This thing — whatever it is — it's coming after us, and if it gets inside…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Prisitsky's blood ran cold. He knew what it meant. He could feel it in his bones. The creature, the seed, the whispering — it was all connected. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't just an external threat. It had infiltrated his body, his mind, and now it was feeding on his fear, his weakness.

Another knock. Another thud.

Prisitsky's knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his hands shaking violently. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sound, but it was impossible. The creature was outside, pressing in on them from all sides. He could feel the walls closing in.

Skyy grabbed his arm, shaking him. "Prisitsky! Stay with me!"

But it was too late.

Prisitsky felt something stir deep inside him. It wasn't just fear. It was something else, something dark and ancient, rising like an uncontrollable tide. He could feel it twisting through his veins, crawling beneath his skin, taking root in his body.

It's here.

The air around him seemed to hum with energy, a low vibration that echoed in his chest. The walls were pulsing, the shadows shifting, as though something was alive in every corner. The whispering grew louder, more insistent. He could hear his own name in the murmur, dragging through his thoughts like a knife.

Prisitsky. Prisitsky. Come back to me.

He gasped, his hands clutching at his head. The pain was unbearable, sharp and unrelenting. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning.

"Skyy… help…"

Skyy's voice cut through the noise, but it felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. "Prisitsky, listen to me! You need to fight it! Whatever's inside you — it's not you. Don't let it control you!"

But it was too late. The creature was already there.

Prisitsky's body convulsed, his back arching as something shifted within him, something ancient and predatory. He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound that escaped was not his own. It was a deep, guttural growl, like something far worse than a human.

And then the door exploded inward.