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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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In Soviet Russia, The Dead Rape You
by Dodom (anarchostaliniste@hotmail.com)
***
Or maybe it's not Soviet Russia. In any case, bondage
is not a good idea when zombies are roaming the
streets. First they eat your boyfriend, then when
they're full and there you are, naked and bound, oh
boy! (MF, nc, rp, bd, sn, nec, can, v)
***
Stan's brains still dripping bloodily from his putrid
chin in thick, gory clots, his festering stomach
blissfully filled with fresh human flesh, the zombie
gazed idly over the room. Stan had had no time to
scream, Nancy had only heard some thuds and grunts. Her
only source of unease was impatience, as she waited,
bound tightly to the bed and naked. Even if she could
somewhat peek under her blindfold, the room was too
dark for her to see anything through that narrow crack.
She'd have to take out the garbage after they were
done, she thought, something smelled terrible in the
room… She cursed Stan for being so damn slow: she was
being distracted from that hot kinky sex they had been
planning!
The zombie stared at her, lengthily, surveying the
vulnerable, female form that breathed softly on the
bed, teasing him. But his bloated stomach would not
take another bite of this delicious human meat, he
would have to let her be... yet, some long forgotten
instinct excited his decaying neurones. He remembered
another kind of hunger, one which found its fulfilment
in the body of women.
Nancy didn't identify, at first, what exactly was
wrong, when the bed's springs finally creaked under her
lover's weight. She shivered in expectation as soft
touches hinted of his advance, and when a lustful hand
trailed shamelessly across her most intimate parts, she
allowed a deep gasp to show her arousal.
Sure, Stan's hand clearly felt cold, rough, and slimy,
but with all the accessories they had been involving in
their enactment of their secret fantasies, there was no
telling what he could be using right now. And she was
not about to ask! Stan knew what he was doing, she was
not going to "safeword" on so little.
The undead lover greedily smelled Nancy’s personal
odours. The living, pulsing meat and the delicate
treasure of womanhood assaulted his dulled senses on
two fronts at once. Because he could not feed right
now, he allowed his older desire, one utterly forgotten
till mere moments ago, to take over.
Nancy concentrated on the sensations, trying to
identify them. The cold, oddly textured hand caressed
her skin, grabbing her breasts. The fingers played with
their soft flesh, trying to seize it as it yielded
under their touch, out of their slippery grip, offering
only the hardened nipples as sure handhold.
The damp, tattered fabric of his clothes hung down,
brushing lightly against her belly and legs as her man
slowly advanced over her figure. The chills this soft
tickling aroused through her body were quite pleasant.
Her breathing was getting quick and shallow, her limbs
trembled in avid expectation, oh, how she wanted him!
Yet, at the same time, she began to feel uncomfortable.
Normally, she had a good idea of what Stan was up to
despite his best efforts to surprise her. Even
indulging in their somewhat perverted ways only brought
so much variety, the best efforts could not keep their
repertoire of sexual acts from getting predictable over
time. But now, she had no idea where this was going!
The way the mattress bent down under his weight as he
crept up on top of her was just wrong. Stan was heavier
than this! Did he dare invite a friend to fuck her?
“Stan? What are you doing?”
She called his name several times, but he wouldn’t
answer. She began struggling, but the ropes binding her
hands and legs to the bed posts held tight. The knots
were good, they would not loosen. She writhed and tried
to resist, to no avail. Her limited motions couldn’t
keep the stranger’s hands from exploring every
centimetre of her skin, a cold sensation betraying the
thick liquid they left behind. She finally succeeded at
making him lose his balance, however, and he fell right
on top of her. Flaccid, decay-loosened, terribly cold
flesh slapped hers. The revolting sensation almost made
her hurl.
When she began screaming, the stranger pressed his
hands against her mouth, almost choking her. She
suffocated not only from the obstruction, but also from
the powerful smell of carrion. It became overwhelming
without distance to dull it, she could even taste it!
All the air she had managed to suck in through that
fetid barrier was wasted as she screamed even louder,
when he finally lifted her blindfold.
The night couldn’t conceal the whole of the horror that
was now facing her. Dead eyes stared into hers from a
filthy skull, bone partially bared as skin had rotted
away, torn from the ever hungry jaw that had forced a
flesh that yearned only for eternal rest to work again.
Light reflected on the undead predator’s bared teeth in
sharp contrast to Stan’s blood, coal black stains in
the dark.
More blood soiled her own body, tracing the monster’s
path up her form. As the zombie straightened itself,
dirty maggots remained on her, wriggling happily around
the bloody clots which would feed them better than
their last host.
Through her terror, a morbid fascination for the
putrid, almost skeletal fiend that had taken Stan’s
place came to her and forced her into a relative
silence. She was quiet, transfixed, until her most
tender parts were violated in their turn. Her previous
arousal had made her quite wet, allowing the zombie’s
withered yet hard manhood easily into her. It soon
slipped ever more smoothly as the motion rubbed her
fragrant liquid into the mouldy membrane that was once
skin. It swelled with replenished moisture, not quite
enough to soften, but enough to turn a mixture of dried
fungi, insect feces, rancid fat matter and less
identifiable substances into a thick lubricating slime.
Stan’s blood played the same role between the bodies
and limbs of the comely woman and of the animated
corpse, slippery but turning sticky as it dried slowly.
Nancy had every reason to scream, and did so! Her
hideous lover no longer bothered trying to silence her.
Hyperventilating, she almost fainted. Her consciousness
slipped just long enough for her dizzied mind to
acknowledge what her body was telling her: this
creature, as ugly as it was, was actually pleasuring
her. It fared better in bed than Stan could have ever
dreamed of! By the time her mind cleared, she had to
fight back an avid grin, still reluctant to confess the
unholy pleasure she found in this. More and more, she
felt compelled to surrender to it.
The zombie, although happy to rediscover the joys of
the living, felt his insatiable hunger flare up again.
He was increasingly tempted to devour the youthful
flesh that was already pleasuring him in another way.
He wanted the woman to continue squirming under his
body, eating her would soon enough lead to a
disappointment, his dim mind could still figure that
out. He rose, leaving her trembling on the bed for a
moment, picked up Stan’s cadaver and threw it on top of
her, right across her chest before resuming his carnal
act.
Despite making good knots, Stan was not the kind of
asshole that would have tied her tightly enough to
hurt, so while her oppressor was away, Nancy managed to
pull one hand free. The unexpected drop of her slain
boyfriend on top of her abruptly cut her evasion
attempt short. He was rather heavy, even partially
eaten away, and the time to throw him off her self
would largely allow the zombie to thwart her evasion
attempt.
Undead teeth tore at the still warm body, spilling the
blood it still contained over the female lying beneath
it. Although she quickly became as aroused as before
her intercourse with Stan was interrupted, or because
of it, Nancy was not ready to give up on freeing
herself. While the monster leaned down to take another
bite, she swung her free hand and grabbed the back of
his head, as if to drown him in his own meal. For a
moment, she thought she could actually choke him, but
the zombie didn’t need to breathe, a face-full of his
favourite food was only a treat to him.
The thin hair she was pulling at gave out easily, along
with a small patch of skin, and the zombie was free
again, unlike her. He grabbed her arm, and from the
look he gave it, she thought he was about to take a
bite out of it. But he only held it so she would not be
attacking again, and he continued making love and
eating at once.
She could have tried to hurt him again, as his
attention was slipping, but so was hers, and when her
wrist was released, all she did was feeling the
contours of that hideous face before her eyes,
returning some of the caresses she enjoyed so. Smiling,
she raised her knees as far as the rope would allow,
around the delightfully cold legs of her lover, opening
herself to further coital pleasure. The zombie’s sex
was not as inventive as Stan’s was, but the very being
giving it was in itself a gift.
Her desire mounting beyond anything she had ever
imagined, so did her pleasure. All reluctance was
forgotten as she struggled with the sensations, wanting
to push them away and to seize them fully at the same
time. The sensual frenzy burned through her veins like
a poison, leaving no thought but that impossible lust
to animate her trembling body. Frantic, she grabbed
Stan’s limp hand and squeezed it against herself as if
in fear of falling down.
The living dead made a more tenacious lover than most
men, and she had the time, watching him satisfy his
hunger just as he pleasured her, to grow greedy of the
dead flesh he had laid on her chest. She licked and bit
and sucked Stan’s hand, eager to share her new
partner’s feast. She rubbed her face against it,
moaning with lust, then sucked his finger into her
mouth again, deeply as if to swallow him.
Her exaltation of the mortal clay was unfulfilled,
however, as her teeth were hardly sharp enough to break
the skin. Pulling the limb up, she found a hole, one of
the zombie’s first bites. She tasted it and found the
inner flesh to be soft and succulent. The abundant
muscle which had made Stan popular with the girls now
easily came off in large bites, slightly tainted but
not fouled by the fluids his assassin had left.
Frantic to share all of his pleasures, Nancy pulled
hard enough to free her other hand, dedicating it to
the discovery of the loved corruption on her new lover.
With the other, she still maintained the fresher corpse
for her act of cannibalism. Soon enough, she was
scattering blood and shreds of flesh just as wildly as
the zombie. At the same time she lifted her bottom to
allow her mate to penetrate her deeper. Their faces
were close enough to kiss, but raising from their
buffet would break a more intense form of intimacy.
Her stomach not fit for this kind of nourishment, she
was soon full. She pushed Stan’s body down a bit so she
could straighten herself, reaching with her mouth to
lick the bitterness of putrid undead flesh. The taste
and smell no longer revolted her: in her fevered mind,
decay had become the ultimate celebration of carnal
joy. She had swallowed, and absorbed through other
canals, enough of the unnatural being’s fluids. If
popular culture was right, soon she would be as him!
The unworldly toxins were indeed spreading through her
veins, accumulating in her brain. The zombie tossed
Stan’s cadaver aside and grabbed Nancy’s chest in a
frantic embrace, himself too becoming submerged in his
own kind of ecstasy, experiencing more sensations than
any of his kind was ever meant to know.
Slower, but more powerful, his strokes drove the woman
near orgasm, and she in her turn squeezed his ribcage.
The rotting tissue connecting the ribs split under the
pressure of her embrace, allowing blackened liquefied
entrails to leak out in a fetid pool. She allowed the
tarry sludge to cover her breasts. More! She wanted
more of the cold decay, more bared bones and peeling
flesh, and more undead craving!
Since the room was already ill-lit, one could not say
that, when she climaxed, everything went black, but her
consciousness did fail her. Similarly, one could not
say that she woke up later, since the zombie’s
infection had done its work upon her body and mind. She
no longer belonged among the living, except to hunt.
Raising into her new existence, she yanked her feet
free of the ropes rather than trying to untie them, and
went to look for her wonderful lover. Yes, she would be
as him! And there he was, crouching nearby, gnawing
Stan’s bones clean. She yanked him away from the
remains, not wishing to part from him, and wandered
into the street. She was getting hungry.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 54