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Screw the Zombie Apocalypse, We're Fucking!

Chapter Text


In the warm light of the bedside lamp, Dr. Albert Wesker lay nude in the Spencer Mansion's master bedroom, contemplating what the hell had happened to his life. Beneath said mansion lay a laboratory owned and operated by the Umbrella Corporation. Umbrella had its fingers in lots of pies, not all of them legal. In fact, most of its subsidiaries were fronts for what amounted to an unprecedented crime against humanity—a clandestine eugenics program set in motion by none other than the Earl Oswell E. Spencer; a program so encompassing and depraved in ambition as to disgust even the most fanatical of Nazis.

All that being, at the moment, beside the point.

Which, Wesker? He was tired of Project W, tired of Umbrella, tired of babysitting a mad scientist, and now tiring of sex with said mad scientist's nine-year-old daughter, who at this very moment was bouncing naked on top of him with his cock up her ass while rubbing her cute, wet little pussy. That was the major problem with sociopathy, even high-functioning sociopathy: it made life so goddamn fucking boring, one needed stimulation like—oh, this was such a fucking clichéd metaphor and yet so fucking apt—a thirsty man needed water. Not that Wesker had ever found sex, consensual or otherwise, particularly stimulating in and of itself. No, the thrill was in dominating his "partners," and/or dominating a third party by screwing the second. In this case, the third party was Drs. William and Annette Birkin; the second, their daughter Sherry. William Birkin and Wesker were senior Umbrella researchers working on a retrovirus codenamed Golgotha (or G-Virus for short). William Birkin had discovered the G-Virus in the course of a project to create militarized mutants called Bio-Organic Weapons. This earned Wesker and the Birkins a transfer to the NEST, a larger, more modern underground facility in nearby Raccoon City's industrial district.

The problems first arose in 1994, not long after Wesker left Umbrella and enlisted in the Army, which had its own illicit bioweapons program, though he was in fact still working for Umbrella off-the-books. By this time, William Birkin had become openly resentful of his superiors for denying him promotion to executive, and turned slowly but alarmingly withdrawn and paranoid, at least when he wasn't ranting about his precious G-Virus. A very annoyed, very spiteful Wesker invited the Birkin family back up to the mansion one day, took the child and raped her at gunpoint before her parents' eyes. Rape, especially the rape of children, was old hat to Wesker. In that way, as in many others, they were no different than adults as far as he was concerned—nothing more than sex toys on two legs. Hell, after disposing of the architect of this very mansion along with his wife? Their daughter had been drugged, subjected to repeated physical and sexual abuse, and finally implanted with a parasitic BOW. It was this test that, while failing in its original goal, resulted in the discovery of the G-Virus.

William and Annette Birkin were, being scientists and Umbrella employees, far more valuable than the hapless George and Jessica Trevor. Wesker assumed forcing the couple to watch him fuck their very young daughter would shock William, directly or through his wife, into behaving himself. However, William Birkin had gone ballistic on Wesker not for the violation of his only child, but for having the audacity to distract him from his work! Forget "workaholic," the man was an egomaniac! And Annette, the timid cunt, gave up trying to reason with him when he turned his rage on her soon after!

Fed up, Wesker continued having sex with Sherry, if only because he couldn't think of a good enough reason not to. To his surprise, it took only a few months for the girl to start enjoying her rape, and about a year for her to start acting out sexually. After Sherry bragged to him—actually bragged, the little twat!—about secretly fellating boys at Raccoon Elementary School, he had Annette pull her out for fear Sherry would be caught in flagrante delicto. No bribe raise in the world would enable Brian Irons, the city's fat, morally bankrupt fuckwit of a police chief, to keep the lid on such controversy. At best, he could direct the investigation to a dead end, but that would just delay the titanic shitstorm the press and public would eventually raise, in which event the company would jettison the Birkins on the mere allegation they had willfully ignored the rape of their preadolescent daughter—and quite possibly Wesker himself should Sherry name him as her abuser.

The stress of trying to deal with the obstinate William Birkin and his hypersexualized offspring (not Wesker's fault, absolutely not his fault!), on top of being a double agent for Umbrella in Raccoon City's special police unit, was what drove Albert Wesker to thoughts of corporate betrayal, or at least stealing the T-Virus strain the Arklay science team was engineering for his future use and injecting himself with it ASAP, just on the off chance it would give him the stamina to keep up with the underage sex fiend he'd inadvertently created. In his hubris, he never could have predicted it. The little slut was a goddamn sexual Frankenstein's monster!

Wesker was staring at the ceiling, absentmindedly holding Sherry by the hips, when the horny little girl climaxed with a series of precociously lewd moans. He himself shortly finished, pulling out to ejaculate utterly without pleasure on Sherry's lower back and butt, and grumbled something about logic and sanity and the universe. Sherry didn’t hear him over her giggling, nor would she have cared. She was having too much fun smearing his hot, sticky cum all over herself.

Just three years later, everything went to shit.