The Zombie Afuckalypse!

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The Zombie Afuckalypse!
The Zombie Afuckalypse!
$3.99
Year: 2016
9,411
9781311574169
The three biggest losers in town, the guys no one wants anything to do with, have just found themselves in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. When they spy the former head cheerleader from High School, Julie Nichols, shuffling along outside their apartment they get an idea that’s so nasty you won’t believe it.
Max Swan
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Boo Brady was the least popular guy at school.  He was a nerd, chubby had an acne-scarred face that frightened children, and had unruly red hair.  He only had two friends, and together, they were treated as social rejects, white trash, and no-hopers.  His friends are ‘Milton‘, nicknamed after the cartoon monster because his head is the same shape, and Lobo, a Latino guy who’s so fat he waddles when he walks.

They called themselves ‘the three amigos’ because they hung out together all the time and in each other had a strong friendship.  Which was just as well because nobody else wanted to hang out with them.  The only thing they ever complained about is they were twenty, and the only pussy they could get is the type you had to pay for.

The chicks just didn’t dig them, and even the hookers were much older and dirty skanks; it’s all they could afford anyway.  They were known as the biggest losers in town, and after high school, they moved in together into a place they called ‘The Rathouse.’

Their parents were secretly glad to see these rather irksome and creepy children leave home once high school was over, and they promptly converted their old bedrooms into offices, gymnasiums, or pool rooms to ensure they wouldn’t ever come back.

The guy dropped out of high school in grade ten and went straight onto welfare. They spent their lives smoking weed, jerking off to porn, and just being lazy assholes.  However, life as they knew it had suddenly taken an unexpected turn, and the three amigos are about to find that sometimes being the social rejects isn’t such a bad thing after all.

*****

Milton had been watching TV all morning and sat glued to the crazy shit going on.  It’s on every channel now as reporters told of how the victims were attacked and torn apart by mobs of crazed people.  They showed Police and Emergency Services rushing about everywhere, and even the Mayor got on the local TV station, calling for people to be calm and stay indoors until the crisis was under control.

What really scared the shit out of Milton is that the mad people weren’t street gangs but everyday people like businessmen, housewives, workers, and so on.  He couldn’t stand it anymore and decided he needed to tell someone about it, so he headed for Boo’s room.

“Hey, Boo, wake up, you prick.  Something is going on.  You gotta check out this weird shit on TV,” Milton said, shaking his friend.

Boo sat up and wiped his eyes, unshaven and his hair greasy from not washing for a week, and complained, “Oh, fuck, Milton, I was just dreaming about fucking Julie Nichols, and you fucking woke me, ya cunt.”

“Julie Nichols?  The cheerleader from high school?” Milton asked with a wry grin.

“Yeah,” Boo said, not hiding his morning boner.

“Man, I’d love to fuck that fine piece of arse,” Milton said wistfully.  “But come on, this shit on TV is like some weird movie, only it’s real.”

“Ok.  Ok.”

Boo ambles into a messy living room, scratching his balls, and sits on the couch.

“So what’s disaster porn is giving you a hard-on today?”

Milton sat next to him and grabbed the remote, turning the sound up.

“Check this shit out,” he said, pointing to the screen.

There’s a man in a gray suit saying, “The infection rate is multiplying exponentially as a bite from an infected person passes it on.  The undead are walking the streets, attacking anyone they come across and attempting to eat their flesh.  Police and military have lost control and are telling all uninfected citizens to lock themselves indoors and barricade anywhere the infected may try to enter, like windows.”

“The undead?  What?” Boo said, wiping his eyes, then picked his ears in case he didn’t hear it right.

“Fuckin’ A!  Fuckin’ zombies are cruising the streets looking for fresh meat,” Milton said excitedly, bouncing on the couch.

“You’re shitting me, right?  This is just one of those stupid movies,” Boo said, not convinced.

Suddenly, Lobo came bursting through the front door, closing it in a hurry and locking it.  He turned and looked at the other two, panting out of breath.

Milton stood and said to him, “Jesus, Lobo, you OK?”

Lobo panted loudly, eventually saying, “The world’s gone fucking mad.  Some idiots just chased me for four blocks.”

Boo laughed.  “They can’t be very fast if you outran them, ya fat slob.”

Lobo, still breathing hard, ignored him.  Meanwhile, Milton went to the window and peered out.

“Hey, I think I see a couple of em’.  No shit, they’re outside on the street,” he said and turned to Boo.  “Fucking zombies in our street, this shit is so cool.”

Boo went to the window, saying, “Yeah, and I’m fucking Rick Grimes and your Daryl. Idiot.”

He peered outside, standing beside Milton.  Sure enough, they could see a couple of people hobbling along slowly with blood all over them and strange, vacant expressions on their faces.

“What the fuck is wrong with them?” Boo asked, eyes wide.

“According to the news, they’re fucking zombies.  The world is going to shit, Boo,” Milton said.

“Fuck me, isn’t that old Bob Jenkins, who owns that 7/11 on Bowl Street?” Boo said, pointing.

Lobo had gotten his breath back sufficiently to join them after several puffs of his inhaler.

“Serves the old prick right,” Lobo wheezed.  “Never would serve me in that shop of his, the bastard. He always told me to come back when I could fit through the door.”

“Hey, there’s that cunt, Brad Johnson, who did all that shit to us at school,” Milton said, pointing to the other side of the street where they could see him running their way.

Brad isn’t infected.

“Should we warn him? He’s heading for those zombies up the street?” Milton asked.

Boo and Lobo watched the panicked Johnson making his way up the street, unawares what’s in front of him with a morbid fascination.

Finally, Boo said, “Fuck him, after all the shit he put us through, let him fucking die.”

Milton went pale and his eyes bulged.

“I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do, though?  Shouldn’t we help him?”

Boo sneered at Milton, and said, “Remember when he pulled your pants down in assembly?  The many times he flushed your head down the toilet?  The day he and his mates beat us up at prom, and all the other shit he did to us?”

“Well, yeah, but—” Milton began.

“No fucking buts about it.  Brad-fucking-Johnson is about to learn about karma,” Boo said coldly.

Lobo laughed, his big stomach jiggling.

“Man, that’s hardcore revenge right there.  I love it,” he said.

Sure enough Brad Johnson found himself surrounded by half-a-dozen zombies, people they knew from the neighborhood.  They attacked en masse, ripping into his flesh as a stoner would a pepperoni pizza.  One even had ripped off Johnson’s arm and had spirited it away to eat it undisturbed.

His screams of agony continued for a good fifteen minutes as the gouging chewing zombies reveled in his flesh.  The guys learned that death by zombie isn’t a quick death, and they felt sick at the sight of the carnage.  Yet none of them moved from the window, watching their former tormentor’s demise with blank pale faces.

Boo didn’t feel bad at all as he had wished Johnson would die a horrible death often. Looks as if some dreams do come true, he thought.

“Jesus, what’s going to happen to us when they find us here?” Milton said still watching the zombies eating a Brad burger.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go as that cunt did!” Lobo said.

“With your body, you could feed ‘em for a week,” Boo said.

“Get fucked, Boo,” Lobo said, looking away and pouting.

“Well, you two watch all those stupid zombie flicks.  How do they survive?” Boo asked, looking between the two.

“They don’t usually,” Milton said unhelpfully making Lobo slap him on the back of the head.

“We need guns and ammo to defend ourselves.  Shooting them in the head is the only way to kill ’em,” Lobo said.

Milton is skeptical.

“Sure in the movies that works, but who knows if it’ll work here?  For all we know that could just make ‘em angry?”

“Well, I guess we’re just gonna have to experiment until we learn what does kill ‘em,” Lobo said rolling his eyes.

“One thing is for sure, you don’t wanna get bit,” Boo said.

“We need some chain mail they wear at the medieval fair.  That shit covers everything and the zombies can’t bite through it,” Milton said his eyes shining.

Lobo smiled for the first time this week.

“Now why didn’t they think of that in those fucking zombie movies?” He asked rhetorically.

“We’ll need a place more secure than this dump,” Milton said, glancing at the messy living room.

“Bill Jones compound would be ideal,” Boo said.

Bill Jones owned a gun shop on the other side of town and he’s a friend of Boo’s as they were members of survivalist and militia clubs in the town.  The best thing about Bill’s shop is he had built it into a virtual fortress, and he lived in a building behind his store separated by a courtyard.  The whole place is surrounded by a high steel reinforced concrete wall with razor wire on top.  Total overkill for regular life, but for a zombie apocalypse, it was brilliant.

“What if Bill won’t let us in?” Milton asked.

“Bill will let us in.  He’s a cool guy, unlike all these assholes,” Boo said, pointing to their former neighbors wandering around as zombies.

“Well, my father’s bomb shelter is closer, and he has that thing stocked better than Woolworth’s,” Milton said.

Lobo is still staring out the window when he saw a zombie he recognized.

“Hey, Boo, there’s your fucking girlfriend.”

“What are ya talkin’ about, fucktard?” Boo said, peering out the window.

Lobo laughed and pointed.

“That cheerleader you carry a boner for, Julie Nichols.  She’s a fuckin’ zombie, man.”

Milton laughed too, it’s not often they had one on Boo.

“Now’s your chance to fuck her man. Go out and ask her for a kiss,” Milton said then started to pretend to tongue kiss an imaginary woman.  Boo spotted her staggering along dressed in yoga pants and a tank top.  She’d been at the gym when she got attacked.  Boo’s eyes suddenly went wide.

“You guys are fuckin’ geniuses.  Yeah, let’s get her in here and fuck her before she goes rotten.”

Lobo and Milton burst out laughing.

“You’re crazy, man. She’d eat you alive,” Lobo said.

“Don’t you even think about it, you fucking pervert.  She’s fucking dead.  That’s, err, necro somethin’.”

Boo shook his head, a scowl forming on his face.

“You’re a chicken shit, Milton.  This is the best chance we’ll get to fuck someone like her, while she’s still fresh.”

Lobo burst out in a raucous laughter again at the ‘while she’s still fresh’ comment.

“Oh, that’s nasty,” he said, trying to stop his laughing.  “But OK, so let’s say we can catch her.  How do we stop her attacking us?”

Boo rubbed his unshaven chin thoughtfully while staring at the former cheerleader stopping and picking up some Brad meat to chew on.

“I know,” Boo finally said.  “We chop her arms off so she can’t use them, and we use a belt around her head to keep her mouth shut so she can’t bite us.  Then we can fuck her as much as we like.”

“Alright, I’m in.  I’ve always wanted to stick it to that stuck up bitch,” Lobo said with a grin.

 

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*This eBook contains adults-only taboo erotica. All human characters in this story involved in any sexual behavior or acts are over eighteen. Any similarities to real people or real-life situations are purely coincidental and unintended. This eBook is 100% fiction, none of this ever happened in real life. The taboo themes of this story are fine for sexual fantasy, but only a fool would do them in real life. Do not try this at home. This disclaimer voids GW Enterprises Publishing Company against any claim that our stories have been a motivation for criminal activity. You are responsible for your actions. Thank you for reading this free sample.

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