Locke's Basement, by Dickfart

While out on the town, a certain treasure hunter could be found in one of the five taverns still standing in his post-apocalyptic world. In that tavern he happened upon what now passes as a beautiful young woman: any who has had twenty percent or less of her skin burned off by Kefka's magic. Her name was Meg.

"Say Meg, you're beautiful, funny, charming, and love how you won Shadow's dog in a game of Poker."

"He won't come to you," said Shadow drunkenly. He hiccuped. "Interceptor doesn't like anyone."

"Here, Spot," said Meg, making kissy noises. The dog came right up to her and licked her hand. Shadow sobbed deep into the wood of his table.

"Good with animals, too," said Locke, and he could feel his heart race for this wonderful young woman. "Can I... take you back to my place for some coffee?"

"Sure, I'd love that," said Meg, and hand in hand they left the tavern. Interceptor whined when she left.

"Traitor," said Shadow, knocking back another pint of piss warm beer. Refrigerators no longer exist in this world.

Meanwhile, Locke led the fair young maiden into his home, and rubbed his fingers along her bra strap.

"Stick with me, and I swear I will always protect you."

"Aww," said Meg, and they kissed and made love on the floor.

Once they were done, she circled his nipple with her finger and said, "So you were a rebel even before the world ended?"

"That's right, baby. I was a treasure hunter, first class."

"You mean thief," said Meg. "Thief was your job class."

"Bitch, it's treasure hunter, or I'll cut you," he growled.

"WOW! I just got threatened by a real rebel. That is so hot," she said, twirling her bare foot along his ankle.

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome," said Locke, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Hey, want to see something really hot?"

"What could be hotter than the broadsword you tuck between your legs," said Meg with a purr.

"Come down to my basement and I'll show you. You'll want to get dressed. It's cold enough to preserve the dead down there."

The pair dressed themselves, and they wandered down to the basement. Meg was going to make some comment about rock hard nipples, but then she noticed the bodies wrapped snuggly in a dirty old bed.

"Ta da!" said Locke, gesturing toward the bed. There were two nude women, one on top of the other. "This is Rachel. I think her name is Rachel. The other one is Celes. They're having lesbian sex."

"They're... sex dolls?" Meg inquired, not entirely comfortable. She thought sex dolls stopped existing after 99 percent of the world was killed by magic fuckery.

"Better!" said Locke. "These are, well, were real living, breathing women. Rachel died in a mine shaft while I was treasure hunting, and Celes died in the war protecting what was left of the world. I failed to protect them..."

"That's sick," said Meg.

"No, it's honoring their memory. God, why does everyone always have that reaction."

"Dude, you took your two dead girlfriends and made them have dead people sex. That's not disturbing to you?"

"Shut up, Meg."

"No, asshole. This is wrong. YOU'RE wrong. You're sick and twisted and you're going to hell!"

And just like that, Meg ran off crying and puking, the appropriate response.

"Sheesh, what crawled up her ass?" said Locke. Then he turned to the other ladies in the room. For the second time that day, he unzipped his fly. "Oh well. At least I have you."

The End