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 camera 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.