Written by Skoob1999
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Thursday, 12 November 2009

image for Inbred Mutant Hoody Zombie Teen Stalk 'N' Slash Massacre - Part 17 Still Raining. Storming. And Generally Shitty Outside

Angie is feeling deflated because she never got the chance to sing her karaoke version of Gloria Gaynor's feminist anthem, 'I Will Survive.'

Her nipples haven't given up the ghost just yet though. They're as upstanding as a pair of Chrysler wheel nuts.

Boyfriend Todd isn't much consolation either. Not since Angie learned that her mother gave him a blow job.

She's really pissed off.

"Babe," Todd tells her. "You need to snap out of this. We're in mortal peril here. We're surrounded by homicidal hoody zombies, guided by some twisted, hell bent on world domination, undead terrorist. We have to get our priorities right and get out of here."

"How did it happen?" Angie mutters.

"We were in the car and we went to Camp Gruesome Death and it just sort of escalated from there," Todd explains.

"Not that," Angie says. "How come my mother ended up giving you a blow job?"

"I don't know," Todd says. "We'd been drinking, and somehow I ended up standing in front of her and she just whipped it out and took the bus to town. So to speak."

"How could you?" Angie sobs.

"I dunno really," Todd says wistfully. "But your momma is an attractive lady. It was kind of hard..."

"I bet it was!" Angie hisses.

"Babe. I regret it ever happened," Todd lies. "But your momma is a beautiful lady. And when she clamped her jaws round my Johnson and stared up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes I was powerless to resist. I swear it will never happen again.* Now can we concentrate on getting out of this situation in one piece?"

*(A blatant lie. Todd texted Angie's momma 20 minutes ago and he's going over there to her place as soon as the current situation is resolved.)

"I just can't believe my momma blew you..." Angie groans. "It's just so gross..."

"You know what they say," Todd says. "If it isn't as dirty as hell you're not doing it right."

"Enough of this oral sex related malarkey!" Abel Zorro interjects. "Any more of this explicitly sexual content and you'll have us banned from the website! Let us concentrate on the matter in hand!"

"I wish mine was in somebody's hand right now," says Buck wistfully.

"Yes. All right!" Abel Zorro fumes. "I think we all agree that a bit of rumpy-pumpy is good for the soul, but we have more pressing matters to contend with at this point in time."

Fran gets close to Abel Zorro. She's obviously in a state of real 'turned on-ness'

She presses her shapely breasts against his arm and slides her tongue into his ear hole.

"I can play the pink flute pretty good Mister Zorro," she purrs. "I'm listed on Wikipedia as an expert flautista..."

"Now just hang on here," Nick interjects. "The writer of this crock of shit may have lost the plot, but I haven't. We're in danger here, and this is somehow turning into a hard core porno spectacular. In case it bypassed your collective hormonal imbalances, we need to get the hell out of here."

"Hey, Mister Abel Zorro," Buck says. "If you don't wanna take her up on the blow job offer, I'll step in for you. And Angie, if your momma's not busy next Wednesday afternoon I'd be more than willing to pop in for tea and biscuits. In a distinctly Ron Jeremy way."

"For Gods Sake!" Nick blurts. "Let's just concentrate on getting out of here right now!"

"Where are we anyway?" Angie pouts.

"We are where the writer left us," Abel Zorro says. "We are underground in a sterile factory environment being hunted down by Teenage Mutant Hoody Zombies."

"He's right," Lola says. Lola is flat chested but she has really luscious lips. "We can indulge in every sexual deviation known to mankind once we get out of here. There's evil afoot, and we're either going to have to deal with it, or get away from it. Let's just do what we have to do."

"Do you play the flute too?" Buck asks, sort of innocently.

"That's for later," Lola says. "I could turn you inside out with these lips, but we have things to do."

Buck adjusts his trousers under cover of his leather apron.

The gang are in a corridor, strip light illuminated. Sterile.

"How do we get out?" Nick asks.

"Like I know?" Abel Zorro says. "Like I've been here before or something?"

"Cool it bro," Nick says. "Nobody's questioning your leadership qualities here. We all know that you lead from the front. It's just that we're gonna wind up facing some unspeakable evil here. We're counting on you buddy."

Our friends then walk down endless deserted corridors. White and sterile. Airlocks. Computer screens.

"I think I found something," Madame Bitters says. "Well, when I say "I" what I really mean is that Bear the dog has found something."

"What is it?" Nick asks.

"What's 'Something'? It's an old Beatles song, although what it has to do with anything is beyond my powers of comprehension."

Bear, the cute cuddly dog is whining and scratching at a spot in the wall.

"What do we do now?" Fran bleats as she gyrates her crotch against the steadfast leg of Abel Zorro.

"We follow the dog, dummy," Buck says.

"There's a button!" Abel Zorro says.

"There's lotsa fuckin buttons," Buck says, glancing at Fran and Angie's superb chest racks. "I'm looking to tune into the BBC World Service on some of them goddam buttons."

"Back to porn again..." Abel Zorro sighs.

"What else is there?" Buck grunts.

"Oh fucking grow up you guys!" MB says. "Let's press the button and see what happens."

"She's kinda feisty..." Buck mumbles to Abel Zorro.

"I see that. It's a quality I admire in a lady," Abel Zorro says.

"Jeeze! You guys are fucking hopeless!" Madame Bitters says as she presses the button.

A portal opens.

With a whooshing sound like on Star-Trek.

Beyond lays a delapidated house interior, and an evil presence.

Buck and Abel Zorro exchange knowing glances.

"I think this is our way out," Abel Zorro says. "It will probably be fraught with danger. But I say we do it. I say we confront the demons."

"Yippie kye aye bro!" Buck exalts. "Let's fuckin' do it!"

Our friends pass through the portal, prepared to face the hounds of hell if necessary.

Fearless.

Horny.

And eager to get to the end of this tiresome story.

One way or another.

To be continued...

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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