The apocalypse and the last piece of man meat on earth!

San Francisco's gone. Nothing but ash and busted concrete, except for this one building still cutting the skyline. They turned the Armory into an infirmary. Strange choice. The Divine Bitches moved in with their favorite toy of destruction and they weren’t looking for survivors. They were hunting. One man made it through the end of the world. Tall. Breathing. Wrong place. They strap him down on the steel table. Latex creaks when they move, two pairs of gloved hands already working his cock like it owes them rent. CBT comes first: slaps, tight squeezes, steel clamps biting until his balls throb purple. He tries to twist away; the leather cuffs hold. Breath play next. One nurse’s palm seals over his mouth and nose while the other shoves gloved fingers inside him without warning. He gasps, chokes, then moans through the thin strip of air they grant him. They flog his chest while they open him, leather tails cracking across nipples, leaving stripes that bloom fast. The first cock replaces the fingers. She sinks in deep, hips slapping, latex squeaking with every thrust. He comes once from the pounding alone, untouched. They laugh, keep going. Second round, the second nurse mounts his face, smothering him between her thighs while the first rides him to another forced orgasm. By the third he’s shaking, cum leaking down his shaft while they swap places again. The table creaks. His voice is gone. The city is gone. Only the wet sounds of latex and flesh remain, echoing through the last building left.