Zombies and Shit

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Zombies and Shit Page 12

by Carlton Mellick III


  Brick had a story about how Gogo once pretended she was a zombie while they were having sex. As she fucked him, Gogo scratched and bit him, trying to get to his brain. Brick almost thought she really was a zombie, because she used all of her strength when she scratched and bit him. She drew blood in several places. She put teeth marks on his skull. He had to hold her down to continue having sex with her, but she wouldn’t stop trying to eat him alive while they screwed.

  When she was done with her roleplaying, Brick asked, “Why’d you act like a zombie and scratch me up like that?”

  Gogo lit a cigarette and shrugged. “I thought you’d like it. Personally, I’ve always wanted to have sex with a zombie.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the danger,” Gogo said. “I bet having sex with something that’s trying to kill you would be pretty intense.”

  As soon as Gogo learned that she was in the middle of the Red Zone, she knew she would have to test her fantasy to see if having sex with a zombie really was as intense as she imagined. And the fact that she had an audience only made it more appealing to her.

  With the zombie strapped naked to an ancient bed and the camera ball hovering over the scene, Gogo removes her clothing slowly as if she’s dancing for a group of horny old men at her strip club.

  As she removes her shirt, she rubs her breasts and points them at the camera. She licks her nipples and sucks on her fingers, then touches the moisture between her legs. The camera zooms in at her elongated clit as it becomes erect. She hopes the size of her clitoris disturbs some of the viewers watching her. It always turns her on when guys become uncomfortable or intimidated by her clit size. It’s not nearly as large as the smallest penis, but they can’t help but see it as one. This awkwardness drives her wild. It almost always makes her want to force the guy into giving her oral sex.

  When his friends were about to have sex with Gogo, he’d always tell them, “Don’t show any fear. If she can tell you’re nervous around it, she will make you give it oral sex.”

  Gogo strokes her monster clit for the camera, then turns to her undead lover. Her green hair brushes against the corpse’s writhing soggy body—collecting patches of brown sludge—as she climbs on top of it. The smell of rancid chicken hits her nostrils and she inhales deeply.

  “You’re a dirty boy,” Gogo says. “I like dirty boys.”

  “Cerebros!” cries the zombie.

  She presses her tongue against a leathery mud-caked patch of flesh and slides it up to his torso. Weeds grow out of his lungs like chest hairs, tickling her lips as she kisses his nipple. A section of his skin is missing from his chest below the nipple, exposing the ribcage. She curls her tongue around a rib and then bites down on it.

  The zombie growls. She can feel his growl vibrate through her upper jaw. She growls back and then tears the rib bone out of his chest. Then spits it onto his neck.

  As she lies her weight on top of him, her breasts squishing into its oozing flesh, she brings her face closer to his. The zombie bites at her, snapping its jaws at the air between them.

  “Cerebros! Cerebros! Cerebros!”

  She bites the air back at him, flirtatiously. Then grabs him by the throat. She chokes the zombie so hard that no sound comes out of his mouth when he says cerebros. He thrashes to get out of her grip so that he can bite her hand, but once she uses both hands he’s no longer able to resist. She turns his face to the side, leans in, and bites into his brain. The skull is so brittle that it’s like she’s biting into a soft-shelled crab.

  Pulling out a long strip of brain, she lets go of his neck and has him watch. Black fluids dribble down her chin as she chews on his brain. She looks over at the camera seductively and swallows. Then licks her black lips.

  “Cerebros!” cries the zombie.

  “Brains!” cries Gogo.

  She sits back and shoves her hand into his torso, pulls out some intestines, and rubs them on her breasts. The intestines are filled with decayed fifty-year-old brains and congealed blood. Dark reddish-brown in color, they smear like inky oatmeal against her skin.

  “I want you,” she tells the zombie. “I want to fuck you, my living dead boy.”

  She puts on a show for the camera, laying it on nice and thick to both arouse and disturb the people back home. She hopes they don’t edit a single second out of her performance. She wants people to be watching this scene and talking about this scene for years after her death. She wants the producers of the show to know that they sent the right girl into the zombie wasteland. They chose the right girl to become a star.

  As Gogo handles the zombie’s cracked penis, she realizes it’s not becoming hard. Even her masterful hands are not enough to arouse the living corpse.

  “What the fuck?” she asks the zombie. Then she punches it in the chest. A cloud of dust rises into the air.

  She examines his deformed penis. It is wrinkled and scaly. Brown fluids leak from a crack in its side. There are two large bulges in it, as if his rotten testicles had dropped out of his scrotum into his urethra and slid down the shaft halfway.

  “We’re going to have to make this hard somehow,” she says.

  Her eyes scan the room for something long and hard to prop it up with. She finds a long splinter of wood beneath an ancient dresser and brings it back to him. Holding it up to the camera and up to her lover, she gives them a good look at it. Thin and pointed at one end, but it gets thicker and flat toward the other end.

  “This will probably do just fine,” she says.

  She lifts his shriveled piece of flesh and brings the sliver of wood to it, pressing its sharp point lightly against the head. Like a long fingernail, she caresses the zombie’s penis with the splinter, scratching the side of the shaft. The splinter catches on a large blister and it pops, white fluid dribbles down its shaft like pre-cum.

  The penis hole looks as if it had been sealed up a long time ago, so she has to reopen it by force. She points the tip of the splinter at the eye of the penis and then pokes it slowly inside. There is resistance, so she pushes harder. She grips his penis tightly with her other hand and then with all of her strength she stabs the long wooden spike through, creating a new hole.

  The sound of tearing flesh as she jams the splinter deep into the zombie’s dick. A geyser of yellow pus shoots out the top and brown mucus oozes over her fingers from the hole in the side.

  “Yeah…” Gogo says, as the wood goes all the way in.

  She feels his dick again.

  “Now it’s hard enough to fuck,” she says to the camera.

  She climbs on top of his body and stares the zombie in the eyes.

  “Ready?” she asks it.

  She looks down at her crotch as it lowers toward his erection. Her eyes widen as she watches the gnarled blistered member disappear inside of her pussy.

  “Oh yeah,” she tells the zombie, in her very phony stripper voice.

  She can feel the knots in his penis as she fucks it. She moans out loud, not caring if any other zombies hear. To be torn apart and eaten alive while fucking a zombie in front of a television audience is exactly how she wants to die.

  “Brains!” she yells, fucking the zombie faster.

  The zombie doesn’t yell back, as if confused and frightened of Gogo.

  “Brains!” she yells.

  She grabs the zombie by the throat and twists his head into her face.

  “Brains!” she yells again, then bites into the zombie’s brains.

  She eats the creature’s gray matter as she fucks it, thrashing against him on the bed as if she’s a zombie herself.

  “Brains!”

  Then the ancient bed collapses and she hears a tear. A look of concern crosses her face as she gulps down the chunk of brain in her mouth. She looks at the straps that are binding the corpse, hoping the tearing noise wasn’t one of the knots breaking. But when she looks down, she notices the noise had come from the zombie’s dick. It has been ripped off.

  When Gogo stands up, the cam
era zooms in on the severed penis between her legs. She pulls out the ragged scabby piece of meat and holds it up, frowning at it.

  “You wimpy little bitch!” she yells at the zombie, then tosses the dick in his face. “You ruined it!”

  The zombie’s tongue reaches out for the penis by his face. Gogo knows he’s probably trying to eat it, just in case it happens to be a piece of brain, but she imagines the corpse just wants to lick her vaginal fluids off of his dick. She always liked guys who would lick her juices off of their fingers or her dildo, but it turned her on even more to think of a guy licking her vaginal fluids off of his own severed dick.

  Gogo realizes that she’s still turned on and needs to still get off somehow. If she can’t fuck him now that his penis is missing and can’t receive oral sex from him without her labia being bitten off, she decides she’ll let him finger her into orgasm. Of course, since his body parts don’t need to be attached to his body in order to function, she decides to cut off his arm.

  The door bursts open as Gogo is fingering herself with the zombie’s severed hand. She shrieks, then grabs the submachine gun next to her and points it at the intruder.

  “Don’t shoot,” Popcorn says, standing in the doorway with her arms raised.

  “Popcorn?” Gogo asks, staring at her pale-faced friend with the bullet hole in her forehead.

  “Gogo?” Popcorn says, staring at her naked friend with a writhing zombie hand in her crotch.

  Gogo puts her clothes back on and shamelessly explains in great detail what she was doing with the zombie tied to the bed. Then Popcorn tells her about what happened to her, and how she is now officially a zombie even though she doesn’t feel all that different so far.

  “That’s kind of awesome,” Gogo tells her. “I wish the same thing would happen to me.”

  “Well, after having sex with this corpse you’re surely infected,” Popcorn says. “We’ll have to see what happens to you once you turn. You might be like me or you might become a ravenous mindless brain-eater.”

  “Either way,” Gogo says, “I’m out of the contest. I guess it’s just you and me in the zombie wasteland from here on out.”

  “Yep, just the two of us,” Popcorn says. “The queens of the dead.”

  “It’s going to be awesome!” Gogo says.

  “Yeah…”

  Gogo stares hungrily at Popcorn’s head. At first, Popcorn thinks she’s imagining what it would be like to eat her brain. But as Gogo licks her lips, Popcorn realizes that she’s thinking of something sexual. She is imagining what it would be like to fuck the bullet hole in Popcorn’s head with her elongated clit.

  Popcorn realizes that she’s not looking forward to spending the rest of her undead life all alone in the zombie wasteland with Gogo.

  Bosco watches from the window of an office building as the zombie war dogs chase after Junko, Scavy, and Rainbow Cat. The dogs’ Gatling guns roar at them, showering the streets with bullets. The noise of gunfire catches the attention of the living dead and the street becomes full of them. The trio finds themselves stuck between the pack of fully-armed mechjaws and a wall of the living dead.

  Junko takes her crew straight into the mob, weaving through the soggy corpses. The zombies reach out for them, clawing at the air only inches away from them. If just one of them grabs Junko, that would be the end of it. There wouldn’t be enough time to cut its limbs off before the mechjaws catch up. Luckily, most of the zombies’ attentions are focused on the sounds of the Gatling guns and haven’t noticed the three humans ducking through their crowd.

  The mechjaws’ bullets cut through the zombie horde, but the dead do not fall. This creates the perfect human shield between Junko’s crew and the bullets. But the dogs are still closing in on them. They easily run through the mob of undead, knocking them down like dominos, shredding their corpses with their talon blades.

  Bosco watches patiently to see which of the three will get killed first. Rainbow Cat is falling behind the other two. She chose a much denser path through the mob of corpses. He wonders if she will be the first to die. He really hopes not. He hopes Scavy is the first to die, because that asshole punk wouldn’t let him join his crew. Though Junko also wouldn’t let him join her crew. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him when he talked to her, pretended that he wasn’t even there. He hopes that stuck up bitch gets what she deserves and dies painfully.

  Back at the hotel, nobody wanted to join up with him, not even the other loners. Because he had to go on his own, he was nearly killed several times an hour. He was grabbed trying to climb a wall, he was cornered by a group of zombies, he was tripped by a legless zombie while trying to run away from a horde. If he had a friend with him none of these things would have been a problem. His friend could have easily helped him get over the wall or helped him fight their way out of a swarm. If only he had a friend.

  Bosco has always been unlucky when it came to making friends. People just don’t ever seem to like him. He somehow rubs them the wrong way. He’s not sure why. He likes people. He likes to be around people. He’s not shy. He’s not an asshole. People just don’t like him.

  In the Copper Quadrant, Bosco worked in a sweat shop making dresses for women in the Silver and Gold Quadrants. His mother had taught him to sew growing up. A skill he thought he could use, but he never thought would become his trade.

  He was the only male who worked on his floor. The other workers surrounding him were older women, the youngest of them was ten years older than him. Most of them were single mothers. None of them wanted anything to do with him. He thought they would be desperate enough to be interested in him, but they all turned him down when he asked them out on dates. He’s not the most attractive man in the world, but he’s not the ugliest either. He’s in good shape and still has most of his teeth. But women just weren’t interested in him. Outside of prostitutes, he had only slept with one woman in his life.

  If he couldn’t be with a woman he at least wanted to have friends, but even friends were impossible for him. Every day after work he would go to the local bar and try to make friends with the other regulars. Some of them thought he was gay and just coming on to them, because his approach to starting a conversation was too aggressive. Others thought he was boring and annoying. Others just wanted to be left alone. But, still, every day he went back to the bar trying to make a friend. At least just a drinking friend. But nobody, not even the bartender, wanted to have anything to do with him.

  He doesn’t care much that he was put on Zombie Survival. His life has always been shit. He wasn’t expecting his life to get any better. Death has always appealed to him. All he wants is to not have to die alone. If only somebody would have let him join their group he would have gladly sacrificed himself for them.

  His goal isn’t to get to the helicopter and survive. His goal is just to find somebody/anybody to be with him when he dies.

  As Junko and Scavy get further ahead of Rainbow Cat, one of the mechjaws launches a rocket. The explosion hits between Rainbow Cat and the others, blowing everyone off of their feet. The zombies absorb most of the blast, their body parts flying through the air, black sludge splashing across the pavement. Like a landslide, the front of a building crumbles into the horde. Rainbow Cat runs into a nearby department store to avoid the avalanche. It takes down two of the mechjaws and most of the crowd of zombies.

  As Junko helps Scavy to his feet, the mechjaws climb up the rubble after them. They look back for Rainbow Cat, but she’s nowhere to be seen, perhaps even buried under the wreckage. Before the mechjaws have a chance to open fire, they take off running.

  Bosco sees Rainbow Cat hiding in the department store, looking out the window at her companions as they leave her behind. The zombies and mechjaws follow after.

  A smile creeps up on Bosco’s face, happy that Rainbow was left all alone. If he can get to her in time she’ll have no choice but to let him join her.

  “Now you will be mine,” Bosco says to the hippy girl in the doorway
of the department store, “my beautiful Rainbow.”

  Then he licks his finger and draws a heart in the window glass around Rainbow, as she cowers in the distance, lost, alone, and afraid.

  Alone with only a dagger, Rainbow Cat realizes she needs to find a better weapon. Even though Junko had told her being able to run fast is more important than a weapon, Rainbow would feel a lot safer if she had a sword or a large club. She at least needs to find a better knife. The one she has seems better for stabbing than cutting, and she needs a weapon that will cut through limbs.

  Rainbow explores the store. She doesn’t require her flashlight because stripes of sunlight brighten the room. It is a five story building but so many floors and ceilings have collapsed, cracked apart, and fallen away, that sunlight reaches all the way down from the roof to the ground floor.

  Mostly everything in here is useless from exposure to the elements. The clothing falls apart between her fingers. The wooden bars used as coat racks break in half when she pulls them off the wall. Even the metal parts from the display shelves are rusted and brittle. The building feels as if it could collapse at any moment, so she decides not to search upstairs. She’ll have to go somewhere else. Hopefully she’ll be able to catch up to Junko and Scavy later.

  On her way out of the department store, she runs into a figure standing in the doorway, blocking her path.

  As she raises her dagger, the figure’s arms raise up.

  “I’m not infected,” says the figure.

  Rainbow Cat steps forward to see Bosco. A bent smile creeps onto his face, an expression that is like he’s both frowning and smiling at the same time. Rainbow steps back a little.

  “I see you’re all alone,” Bosco tells her. “I’m all alone, too.”

 

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