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One night Bingo got so crazy he went outside and stood in
the middle of the street, screaming at the top of his lungs.
A bunch of the dead things came out of the woodwork and
climbed all over him. They tore him apart and fought over
his intestines and his other body organs.
Well, Stella freaked out and ran outside, and then Porky
went after her because he wanted to fuck her someday, which
meant he couldn’t let her die, and that’s how they all ended
up zombie food right along with Bingo.
That left me alone, and believe me, I learned how to
survive. I spent a lot of time inside at first, but then I
started going out. I mean, the world was what it was, and I
knew I couldn’t stay inside forever, right?
The dead seemed to be migrating away from the city. I saw
less and less of them as weeks went by. There came a time
when I could walk the streets for hours without seeing one
walking corpse. I hadn’t seen a live human for more than two
months, and once the dead started coming around less often,
I actually started missing their company.
Sex was the thing I missed most. I masturbated a lot after
Bingo and Stella and Porky went over the edge, and before
that, I fooled around with Stella mostly, and sometimes even
Bingo and Porky.
I liked Stella best, though, not so much because I’m into
women, but because Bingo and Porky weren’t all that great,
if you know what I mean. Porky was, like, two hundred and
fifty pounds with a really tiny dick, and Bingo was thin as
a rail and greasy.
Stella was something else. She had this long, beautiful
blonde hair, nice breasts with big pink nipples, and a
tongue that could work wonders on my pussy. Sometimes she’d
eat me for hours at a time. She was into that shit more than
I was, but you never heard me complain.
It was tough adjusting to solo sex. I like masturbating and
all, but for real, how many times can you play with yourself
without getting bored? I had to find a new outlet for my
sexual needs, and that’s when I remembered a conversation
I’d had with Stella, Bingo, and Porky one night.
Bingo was going on about a game called Scoring. He said it
was something he’d heard about right after the death plague
hit. Everybody was doing it. It was so popular that it had
become a worldwide sporting event. There was even an entire
underground that supported Scoring events.
Scoring involves having sex with as many zombies as you can
without getting yourself killed. It sounded sort of gross to
me when Bingo was talking about it, but like I said, a girl
can only fuck herself with her fingers so many times before
it starts to get old.
Bingo told us he did it one time with a dead hooker he found
wandering around. He used raw meat to distract her while he
screwed her doggy style. He said that was the trick, you had
to use a distraction. Raw meat was best, because all they
really care about is eating, and as long as you distract
them with something bloody, you can fuck them all night.
There was a butcher shop a couple of blocks over from my
building. I found a freezer in back, full of all sorts of
spoiled meat, which I figured would make good bait.
Another thing Bingo said was that you had to be quick. The
quicker the better. I wore a skirt and no panties when I
went out. I figured the less clothes I had to fumble around
with, the better off I’d be.
My first score happened outside the library. I found this
dead guy wandering aimlessly. He looked like he was still in
pretty good shape, except for the way his jaw was sort of
just hanging there.
He was a little skittish when I first approached him. I had
some raw meat in a bag. I offered a piece of it to him. When
he came at me, I got freaked out and threw it on the ground.
He looked at me for a few seconds, like he was maybe
considering eating me instead, then he got down on his knees
and started going at the rotten meat.
I had his attention, but there was a problem. There was no
way I could get to his dick while he was on his knees like
that. I had a dilemma.
“Hey, you, come here,” I called to the dead thing.
He looked back at me, sort of in a daze, then he lumbered
over, reaching with both hands. It was scary. He took the
meat from me and crammed it in his mouth. He chewed loud,
letting pieces of bloody meat dangle from his chin. I was
shaking as I groped for his zipper. He fixed his dead eyes
on me the whole time he was chewing the meat.
I reached into his pants and grabbed hold of his dick. It
was cold and rubbery. I started jerking him off. I wasn’t
sure a zombie could get a hard-on, but I was determined to
find out. I pumped him and kept feeding the raw meat to him.
It took a while, but eventually his cock twitched and
started to grow.
I gave him a shove and he stumbled and fell on his ass. The
things aren’t very strong. I climbed on top of him and
pushed him on his back, then I crammed more raw meat down
his throat to keep him happy while I guided myself down on
his dick. I came right away. It was most intense orgasm I’d
ever experienced, but it wasn’t the zombie’s cock that did
it for me. The danger is what turned me on so much; the
thought that I could die any second. It was a rush, better
and more potent than any drug I’ve ever taken. How’s that
for sick?
I was addicted after that. I scored three more times in less
than a month. It would’ve been more, but like I said, there
weren’t as many zombies in the city as there used to be.
Greg came into my life suddenly. I was fucking a dead
construction worker against a building. I was so caught up
in what I was doing that another one of the dead things
snuck up behind me. By the time I realized he was there, it
was too late. I was pinned between him and the construction
worker. The second one could’ve took a bite out of me and I
would’ve been finished right there, but he started humping
me instead, like he wanted to fuck.
A gunshot exploded. The zombie behind me fell to the ground.
Another reverberating shot erupted and the construction
worker’s head exploded in a shower of blackish blood and
gray brain bits.
“You okay?” a male voice asked.
I wiped slimy crap from my face and smoothed down my skirt.
“You could’ve fucking killed me,” I screamed at the guy
standing there.
“I saved your sweet ass. Those things were the ones trying
to kill you,” he said, shoving his gun down the front of his
pants.
“They weren’t killing me, asshole, they were fucking me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you deaf? I said they were fucking me, you moron.
You’ve never heard of Scoring?”
“I’ve heard of it, I’ve just never known anybody who
actually did that sick shit.”
We were fire and water from the beginning. I don’t even know
why I invited him to stay with me, or why he would want to.
Maybe we were just bored with life in general.
We fought day and night. We fought and we fucked. That was
all we did.
One thing that made me happy about Greg being around was
that I had somebody to go down on me. That’s something a
girl learns to live without when she’s having sex with dead
things. You don’t spread your legs for a walking corpse.
That’s like laying out an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Greg was good at going down on me. He kept me happy where
that part of our relationship was concerned. I’d make him do
it several times a day. Some days we didn’t even fuck. Greg
would just eat me out. If I felt like it, I’d suck his cock
for him, which he liked, but for the most part, he was
content to eat me out. Our relationship got worse by the
day. The only time we weren’t fighting was when we were
balling. Other than that, it was a fucking war zone when
Greg and me got together.
The dead started coming around again. I don’t know what drew
them back, but seeing them amble down the street made me
long for the excitement I felt when I was scoring. Sex with
Greg was good, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that it wasn’t
worth the hassle of having him around all the time.
I watched Greg sleeping one night. I listened to his
snoring, watched him toss and turn, and realized I wanted
out. His gun was on the night stand beside the bed. I picked
it up and aimed it at his head. All I had to do was squeeze
the trigger. One shot and that would be the end.
That’s when I got a brilliant idea. I put the gun away. A
head shot was too messy for what I had in mind. I spent a
few months conditioning Greg to eat me out. I made him do it
for hours at a time, and when he was good, I rewarded him
with a nice sloppy blow job. I figured if I trained him to
do it well, I’d have less risk when he came back again.
When the time came to finish him off, I remembered some
heroin left behind after Bingo pulled that stupid stunt of
his. I never did that shit, but Bingo thought it was the
bomb. I knew how to use the needle and everything, just from
watching Bingo do it, so. I waited till Greg was fast asleep
one night, then I injected him with enough junk to sink a
battleship.
I got him down to the basement as fast as I could and
chained him to a water pipe. They say the dead have no
memory once they start walking again, but that sometimes
they continue doing things they were conditioned to do when
they were alive. That’s what I was counting on with Greg.
Thing was, I’d have to find a different reward for his good
behavior, because even I’m not fucked up enough to suck a
stiff’s stiff. . . . |
