So I was walking into my work, which is your average corner hardware store, not quite mom-and-pop, but it still had that vibe of being family owned. I stroll on in, punch the clock, and strap on my gloves, knife and tape measure; setting out on my work space.
It was early morning and I’m already a bit sleepy and dulled, not having my daily dose of Red Bull because I’m short on pocket change. All of a sudden, I get that familiar tug in my stomach. Gotta go take a piss.
So I go to the back of the store where, thank God, we keep public restrooms. Now, I don’t know if it’s just me, but I have a self-imposed rule about the bathroom area. You go in, get your business done and get out. I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t look at anyone, I ignore their very presence until I get out the door. Something about acknowledging each other in a restroom, public or not, is very weird to me.
And low and behold, I walk right on in and I see one of my regular customers, taking a drawn out piss in the urinal. Great.
One can only guess why, but I panicked. I did not want to talk to this, albeit kind, old man in the men’s restroom, especially while he’s pissing. So, without much thought, I just strode into the toilet stall and shut the door.
There I received the biggest surprise of my life.
There, on the toilet, sat a girl. Not just any girl, a Zombie girl.
Looking back now, I should’ve seen it right away because of the slightly grey-tinted skin and white hair, but I was too busy starring at the rest of her body.
She was completely naked, clothes were folded neatly on the toilet tank behind her, and intricately tied and bound by red polyethylene rope, which no doubt came from isle 5. Her legs were sprung open wide and held at the meager stall walls by said rope and fastened to a clothes hook on either side. Her hands were bound behind her, held down at her back by the overkill amount of bundled red behind her back, and strapped to the bottom of the toilet. Her breasts were about the size of an heirloom tomato, just right for grabbing and her blue-ish nips were pinched by dollar-item, clothes pins. And lastly, her sweet flowering pussy almost obstructed it, but her mouth was done up in the same red rope into a knot the size of a golf ball.
Needless to say, I was steaming out my ears thinking, ‘What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!’; starting to recall how my boss said something about new toilets.
Hanging right above her head said, Personal Toilet.
She saw me and her eyes had widened, starting to shake a bit as I had unconsciously leaned closer to view her. Her toes curled and knocked lightly against the laminate walls, and she seemed to both be welcoming and fearing the sight of me.
I heard another man walk into the stall adjacent from me, and I thankfully heard the lift and smack of the regular toilet seat. So this was the only one.
I look back down to her and realize she’s eyeing my crotch, which was now looking like it could bust through a brick wall. By this point in time, my head is swimming with what to do, when finally a light bulb goes off in my head: Fuck it.
I drop my pants, watching the steel-beam dick in my pants jump out like a spring and moved it right above her narrow slit. I could hear slight whimpering from her, but I ignored it. I’m here now, why stop?
I wrap my arms around her leg thighs, which were surprisingly soft, and grind my cock right over her mound, forming a narrow valley between the folds of her clit. I was glad for the ball gag as she started to attempt to moan but was suffocated(not literally)back in the back of her throat.
My grinding yielded her sweet slick nectar and her face already seemed hot and flustered from the experience. Oh, but I’m just getting started.
I stop my surface thrusts and tap the top of her clit rather roughly with my dick, small splashing sounds erupted but were hopefully not heard by the other guys around me. The old man at the urinal audibly zipped up his pants and shuffled over to the sink. This was my chance.
As the old man turned the sink on, the loud echo of running water filled the bathroom and I plunged deep into the Z-girl’s shivering pussy. Her muffled groan wasn’t enough to override the running water, and her body convulsed and shook like it was being tasered. I look down back at her pussy and see why. She was a virgin.
Well…I’m going to have to talk to her later, but for now, I’m going to enjoy this. The girl’s eyes were already watery and slack. I got that guilt trip feeling stuck in my chest, and availed to make her fist time as good as she could get it. The water cut off and the old man shuffled out of the bathroom, leaving the guy in the next stall over. Guess it’s time to get busy again.
I start moving in and out of her pussy like a sharp knife through butter and grip her fleshy thighs. Oh god, it was like Heaven!
Each time I drove to hilt in her, she let out a childish yelp and her breasts washed back and forth from her chin like waves. Speaking of breasts…I reach my right arm around her thigh and found the purchase of her ass, and moved my left arm to her breast, taking it in grasp like a fistful; massaging it and watching her eyes lull back in her head.
I squeeze her improvised nipple clamp and stiffened as she silently groaned and tightened her grip on my cock. The only thing that went off in my head was, “Target acquired.”
I took both hands and pinched on her nipples, at the same time her whole body seemed to writhe and tighten on me as I came inside her like a geyser, stifling my own grunts to keep quiet. Meanwhile, she is arching her back, still rippling with the waves of her orgasms, her tongue almost seeping out the side of her gag.
As I slide on out of her delicious hole, which was now pumped full of warm seed sauce courtesy of me, I suddenly recall my toilet emergency. I look at her and her body still shook with orgasmic pleasure and, in some damn twisted way, thought, ‘Why not?’
I take my semi hard cock in hand and point on over her stomach and stroke it a few more times, before I felt the bubbling pleasure coming out. I pissed right over her stomach and let the stream flow up to her chest; her chin and mouth splashed with some golden juice too.
I finish off quickly, as the guy in the next stall gets up to leave and flushes the toilet. I hurriedly pull up my pants and look out the crack of the stall door to see him walk out of the bathroom. Damn fucker can’t even wash his hands!
I fling open my stall door and hurriedly close and lock the bathroom door shut, putting a caution sign in front of it, making it seem like it was being worked on.
I find myself leaning against the door, panting like a wild dog. What the fuck did I just do to her? I slowly walk back to the stall and find the Z-girl still dazed in her reverie of pleasure.
I pull out my pocket knife and slowly cut the ropes from her and try to resist getting another stiffy while this close to her. My pee was still wet over her, almost like she stepped out of a shower. I clean her up with the spare toilet paper rolls and dry her off, limp in my hands.
I didn’t know who this girl is, but I can tell you I wasn’t going to be satisfied with just that~
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I’m left with so many more questions than answers here…
One being why would it matter if her air ways were blocked?
She dead.
It gives me closure. I like my Zombie girls to still physically breath. At the same time, I also don’t want real suffocation in there either…
Why would a zombie breathe? She dead.
Why would you need closure? She dead.
Why would it be suffocation? She dead.
It’s just for my conscience damn it!
Oh, you have one?
Yes.
bizzarrre as ffuck
Weird, yet still tame compared to what I’ve read.
All I have to say is, wew lad.
Wew.
Tired to keep it some what tame. Yes, not your average every day thing, but it was good….in thought…
I might write another one to go with it, not sure yet
Wait no, I have something to say. What does this have to do with Monstergirls? We get a short description of her being a zombie based on her skin, but not really much… else. I think this is just an excuse to write watersports?
Ah, maybe who am I kidding, that’s what half the stories on here are aren’t they?
True. As I said I plan on elaborating further
Well, seeing what Carthois’ proclotivities are like, the fact that she has no fur is more or less a net plus.
Whaddya expect though Ace? I mean, if she died of something non-violent, chances are she doesn’t look like a shambling mess. Instead of smurfette, think of a cold corpse tied to a toilet, with a sign to use it as a toilet, so being the psychopath you are, you decide that any hole will do. Much to your surprise, it turns out the corpse is a corpse, but a moving corpse that apparently breathes, but has no pulse or anything like that. You’re so surprised in fact, that you decide to piss all over the object of your recent un-necrophilic affections, just to show it who’s the alpha around aisle 9 (for all your body disposal needs).
Ah, you’re right. And then, remembering that you lost a bet with Janitor Gonzales, you take her out of there and clean up the whole mess before placing her in your car for proper disposal later.
You’re right, I’m sorry.
My entire ambition is to only return wayward sheep to the flock my son.
Meanwhile, I’m looking at the comments and not one of them blatantly called me out for having a guy rape a Zombie….
Now, know that when I was writing this, I was half asleep, so not everything sounded as good as I thought. But so far I like this one I did, and will have another on to follow up. And yes there will be more watersports.
Well, where to start.
I mean, is the necrophillic angle worse than the rape?
Plus, how do we know she’s not just a lobotomised meat toilet that breathes for no reason.
If you want to discuss ethics, then why is it ok for MC to piss on the girl he just raped for no reason?
Why is she even in there?
Why is she a virgin in there?
Why? Just why?
It’s all too past the pale ethically speaking for it to really matter about splitting hairs over which of the litany of awful things is the worst.
Odd how some people don’t get one thing. If you don’t like a certain genre, the story has tags – check the tags and don’t read it.
What and NOT complain about the story? How else can i voice my disdain?
Well, I suppose you could always type out a contemptuous rant on tumblr instead.
You can always NOT complain, you know. Eyepop I can see is providing constructive criticism about the story itself, albeit in his round about way, but you are more focused on the fact that you don’t like the stuff in the story at all.
So again, if you don’t like the tags, don’t read the story; if you read the story, don’t complain.
Bro, I’m being sarcastic.
Oh! Sorry, I thought you were being serious there for a sec. Didn’t mean to snap. ^^