to wash away her shit as well as the memory. He promised himself that he would never have sex with Gogo again.
Everyone in Scavy’s crew had sex with Gogo several time and every single one of them had their own crazy story of some sick stunt she pulled on them:
Scavy had the shit story.
Popcorn had a story about Gogo wanting to be fucked by a gun that had been converted into a strap-on. It wasn’t until after they both came that Popcorn learned that the gun strapped to her crotch had been loaded the whole time, with the safety off. If Popcorn had orgasmed just a little harder she would have put a bullet through Gogo’s back.
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
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.
