Merc punk threesomes are not quite the same as a normal threesome relationship. When units have sex, it is always the two Arms having sex with the Head. The two arms never make love with each other. Some units are bisexual, but these are only in the cases where the Head and one of the Arms are of the same gender.
Xiu widened her mouth as she masturbated herself with her Arms. She gave herself oral sex with her Left Arm as she rubbed her breasts with her Right Arm. Then she laid back and brought her Left Arm’s penis inside of her.
The moment Zippo felt his Head’s warm insides, he knew that he was already going to have an orgasm. If he could only pause for a moment he wouldn’t pass the point of no return, but he couldn’t
stop unless she commanded him to. “I’m going to come,” Zippo said.
“Don’t,” Xiu ordered, moaning beneath him. “Keep going.”
Zippo tried to do as he was ordered, but it was the first time he had ever had sex. He couldn’t prevent himself from ejaculating before she ordered him to do so. When she felt his penis become soft inside of her, Xiu’s face filled with shock. Her Left Arm had disobeyed orders.
“Get off of me,” she said.
She pulled his strings and moved him to the far side of the bed, then continued masturbating herself with only her Right Arm.
It is common for a Head to prefer one Arm over the other during sexual intercourse. In bisexual units, the Head might prefer one gender over the other. Or a Head might just find one Arm more sexually attractive, or one Arm might perform better in bed.
Zippo tried not to cry as he was left out of the lovemaking. He wasn’t allowed to be sad if Xiu wasn’t sad. He wasn’t allowed to be jealous of the Right Arm. He was not allowed to look away as Xiu masturbated herself without him.
When a Head prefers one arm over the other, the unit would be considered either Right-handed or Left-handed. Zippo had always thought that Xiu’s unit was ambidextrous, until they started to make love. Then he discovered that her unit was actually Right-handed. Although he was supposed to have no feelings of his own, this hurt Zippo deeply. He loved her so much. He couldn’t bear the thought of her preferring Vine over him, even if it was just a little bit.
They come to a chained door upstairs. After searching the entire museum, this is the last door they haven’t searched. Zippo cuts the chain with his right scissor-arm, and the chains clank against the floor.
“Let’s go,” Xiu says, as Vine kicks the door open.
Inside, the room is a vast hall. It had been designed for special exhibits, and there was no exhibit more special than the works on display here.
Xiu enters first, going toward a sculpture in the center of the room.
“This is it,” she says.
The sculpture raises its head and looks at her.
“Brains…” it says.
The piece of artwork is a zombie that had been torn apart and re-assembled into a twisted abstract sculpture, with steel bars woven through its flesh. The ribcage opened like butterfly wings, a black fist in its chest in place of a heart. A living, writhing piece of art created out zombie flesh.
There are dozens of them, abstract sculptures made out of the flesh of the living dead. Along the walls, there are paintings, also composed of undead tissue. Each one still shifting and wheezing, permanently frozen inside of their frames.
“Get as many as you can carry,” Xiu says. “We need to get them to the helicopter before dark.”
Her Arms nod at her, pulling sheets and twine from their bags, to wrap up the valuable works of art.
Their client is the grandson of a man named Gunther von Hagens, the inventor of plastination. His grandfather was a controversial anatomist known for his Body Worlds exhibits, which blurred the line between science and art. He used the bodies of the dead, fixed with a formalin, dissected into unusual forms, dehydrated and gas-cured. This would preserve the bodies, shaping them into grotesque and fascinating works of art.
After Z-Day, Gunther von Hagens had found himself trapped in the United States, in the very city where this season of Zombie Survival is being filmed. Fifty years ago, he barricaded himself in an art museum and slowly went mad. Whether he admitted it to the public or not, Gunther was an artist and human flesh was his medium. Having found himself trapped in the middle of the zombie wasteland surrounded by the living dead, with an infinite amount of time on his hands, he decided to continue his work, but this time he used the flesh of the living dead.
His sanity had left him on Z-Day, when the sculptures in his Body Worlds exhibit had come to life. The sculptures had become infected by the first zombie he had seen, staggering through the science museum and puking green vomit onto his sculptures. The zombie was only freshly turned and security thought it was just a crazed drunk. They escorted it out of the exhibit and the crowd of bystanders turned their attention back on the exhibits.
The first sculpture to come to life was the infant inside of the pregnant woman sculpture. A man saw it moving in there, wiggling. He leaned in for a closer look, then the pregnant woman came to life, bit into his skull, and ripped out his brains with her plasticized teeth.
The crowd ran screaming as the exhibits came to life. A zombie split into three sections on top of a horse trampled through the crowd. A running male zombie with its muscles sprayed out like fans grabbed a woman from behind, weaved his rope-like muscles around her torso, then ripped her throat out. A soccer-playing exhibit staggered through the crowd with his soccer ball glued to his forehead. A paper-thin slab of an obese man gurgled on top of a table.
When he saw his specimens come to life, Gunther von Hagens fell to the ground, bawling. He looked over at his wife and saw blood spraying from the top of her head. A skinless corpse dangling from the ceiling by wires had torn the scalp off of her head. As he watched his wife shrieking, blood coating her dress, Gunther began to scream.
The zombie dangling from the wires looked over at him, chewing on his wife’s scalp. The sight made Gunther scream louder. This made many of his sculptures turn their attentions on him. They staggered toward him. Gunther found himself surrounded by his specimens. A basketball player growled behind his back, a male and a female joined at the crotch pulled themselves across the floor, a chess player with an open skull cried for his brains.
Gunther ripped an umbrella from the hand of one of his exhibits and used it to push his way through the walking dead. He grasped his shrieking wife by the wrist and ran out of there, through the chaos of Z-Day, and barricaded himself inside of the art museum.
This is where he spent the next decade of his life, constructing new works of art out of the flesh of the undead. Eventually, he was discovered by a band of soldiers scavenging the wasteland, and brought back to an outpost outside of town. He re-married, had children, and those children moved to the island of Neo New York. But his works of art were left behind.
His grandson hired the merc punks to retrieve his work from the museum, as many pieces as they could carry. The rumors of his grandfather’s work were spread wide through the Platinum Quadrant. He knew they would become popular gallery pieces. All he needed to do was hire some merc punks willing to go there. Unfortunately, merc punks didn’t travel that far into the Red Zone, they only went on missions near the coasts. That is, until he told the Mongol tribe about the Zombie Survival television show. He told them if he could get a merc punk unit on the show, he would reward them handsomely. Of course, only one of them would be able to come back alive.