Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
The zombie apocalypse started out slowly. First, there were the news stories of the occasional homeless person having their face eaten off by a madman. Drugs, they said. Then there were small hoards that would crash through department stores in the middle of the night, caught on security cameras smashing up the place, then gone by morning. Rising crime, they said.
Finally, it could no longer be ignored. When the widespread cannibalism began it was too late to stop the spread. Their numbers increased exponentially. Pretty soon everybody was gone. Well, everyone except for little pockets of survivors here and there, of which I was one.
Life was hard for us. It was hard to tell who was cursed: them or us. Perhaps we both were. Every hour we survived was both a blessing and curse. Some could not take it and opted out. The rest of us fought for our survival with every breath and ounce of strength we had so we could live.
We survived in the dark, like moles. We ate rats, bugs, snakes, whatever we could find. It did not matter. We scavenged for what we needed. Guns and ammunition were top priority, over food. Water was important too, very important. Most of our water came from rain. Then we distilled it to filter out impurities.
When faced with the constant struggle for survival against an enemy that both outnumbers you and cannot die, the struggle against nature, and for basic needs, you change. Your morality changes. Life has immense value to you. That is, YOUR life has value to you. Other people’s lives, maybe not so much. We all changed over those weeks and months following the outbreak. But none of us changed for the better.
Before it began I worked as a talent scout for a film production company in Los Angeles. You may have heard of our little company, Bango Wango. We put out quite a few hit films. Our biggest film was “Big Black Cocks Destroy Little Asian Hotties”. It was very, VERY HOT!! . It received 4.5 out of 5 Hard-Ons in the Adult Video Review. We also were responsible for “Women Fucking Strangers in Cars, Part 12” and “Hot Girl Bangs 200 Guys at Once”. We liked to stick with a tried and true formula.
Just before the outbreak exploded into all-out murderous zombie hoards and mass cannibalistic attacks, my boss, Doc “Ramrod” Rambo, sent me up to San Francisco to do a casting call for a promising upcoming film to be called “Men Fucking Hot Women”. My job was to evaluate all the girls. I interview each of them. Then I look at them naked. Then I fuck them. If I think they would be good in the film, I stuff some blow up their noses and taken them back to LA with me. You know, it’s the industry standard business model.
As it turned out, San Francisco is the worst place in the world to be in the zombie apocalypse. You would probably think that in my line of work we would be open to deviant sexual identities and practices. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. See, these leftist Dem pigs are trying to gay and tranny everyone. This reduces our target market! We shoot straight hetero shit, only. Partly, this is because it is what we all prefer. Partly, and very importantly, it is where most of the money is. And, our primary financier is a raging white supremacist who disapproves of weird leftist sex shit. I can’t say that I blame him either.
It is well known that San Fran has the highest ratio of freaks in the world. Let me tell you, having a decrepit, rotting zombie trying to murder and eat you is rather disconcerting. Having a tranny zombie coming after you is downright terrifying! Imagine, a 6.5 foot tall highly feminine zombie coming at you, with a wang flopping around. Many folks get caught staring at shit like that (e.g., flopping wangs on fem looking zombie ghouls), and fail to notice the zombies creeping up on them from behind. The poor bastard becomes dinner, and all because of the freak show science and deranged politics that went on prior to the outbreak.
But something worse happened. It stands to reason that zombies, as a primal version of a human being, want to eat. It is its primary need. But those trannies, they weren’t human in any traditional sense. They wore their sexuality on their sleeves for everyone to see. Their sexuality was their identity. This being the case, they are far different from all other human beings in life. Therefore, it stands to reason that they would be far different in death.
Zombie trannies don’t want to eat you. They want to fuck you. Since death causes brain capacity to diminish substantially, they revert to a primitive animal. This means that morality no longer plays a role in their heads. All they want to do is fuck, fuck, fuck. Obviously, nobody consensually fucks a rotting corpse. Thus, they are rapists too. It’s reverse-necro rape phenomena. I seen it. It’s real.
Maybe if we kept them in the closet back before the outbreak these tranny ghouls would only want to eat us alive. But toward the end days the leftist pigs encouraged their antisocial and barbaric urges. They normalized it. They encouraged the freaks to extract their inner abominable urges and place them at the forefront of their existence with absolutely no regard for the impact on other people and society.
See, it was the leftist movements that doomed humanity. Why? For power? For wealth? Hubris? Who knows. All I know is that I am one of the few survivors. Me, along with other survivors, are on constant guard against zombie attack. They roam around in hoards, either looking to eat us or rape us. In fact, sometimes it is both. I have seen some poor bastards being both eaten and raped at the same time. That, my friends, is some ghoulish shit.
It was only a matter of time before the survivor numbers dwindled. I eventually hooked up with a fella from back East that went by the name “Tex”. He was a tough son of a gun. Together we stood a much better chance at survival. One night while camped out under an overpass Tex, with a long drawn out southern drawl, said, “Well now, fuck boy, I think we’uns need ta think bout headed back east, away from the hoards and the feggets.”
Tex reasoned that we could live in rural areas and pretty much be steer clear of zombies altogether. I asked Tex, “What about the tranny zombies?!?” Agitated, old Tex said, “We ain’t got none of that thar sheeyit in Texas, fuck no!” I was all in for Tex’s plan.
We jacked a Dodge Charger in Compton. I hotwired it. Tex said, “Well shit fire, fuck boy! I thought ya’ll had to be one of them thar negroes to knowd how to do that sheeyit! Heh heh heh!” We managed to collect enough gasoline that was still good to get us to Texas. We put it in all sorts of containers and pulled it behind us in a trailer. Tex rigged up a trailer hitch on the ghetto ride for the trip.
I was a long and arduous journey. You may think it would be easy since there wasn’t anyone left to cause a traffic jam, but you would be wrong. There were abandoned cars everywhere, with zombies peppered about here and there. We were viciously attacked in Las Vegas by a hoard of zombies dressed like Debbie Reynolds. Fortunately, we managed to escape with our honor intact.
One night we camped out under the stars. We caught a couple of large lizards and cooked them over an open fire. After dinner we relaxed and watched the stars as we smoked cigars from a box of Padron we found at our last stop. Something had piqued my curiosity about Tex. Finally, I had to ask him.
“Hey, Tex?”, I said. “Yep”, he replied. I asked, “What were you doing in San Francisco? I mean, you have made it pretty clear that San Fran ain’t got much to draw you to it.” Tex said, “You don’t need to knowd all bout that, fuck boy.” I kept on prying. Old Tex eventually relented.
“I was in San Francisco to meet a man I had met online. Ya’ll can think of it as a date, if ya’ll want”, said Tex. I was floored!!! Tex just came out to me. A gay Texan? I just could mot wrap my head around it. I had to know, so I asked, “But Tex, does that mean that … YOU are a homo?!?”
Tex pulled out his revolver and violently struck me with the butt of the gun right on my nose. Blood spewed out as the pain was excruciatingly throbbing in my sinus cavities. Then I heard Tex say, “I AIN’T NO GODDAM FEGGET, YOU ASSHOLE!! What in tarnation is wrong with you?!?”
I managed to get the bleeding to subside after a while. Clearly, Tex had broken my nose. I could not breathe through it anymore and the painful throbbing was still going strong. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tex! It was just a fucking question”, I said.
After a couple moments Tex said “Ah, hell fire, fuck boy. Ima sorry fer braking yer nose. But ya’ll jest cain’t ask a man shit like that, ya know?” I nodded. Of course, he was right. But I grew up in Candy Ass Land here in California, so it’s rather easy to forget what a man is, and is supposed to be. Tex was a real man, that is for certain. With a little prodding I got Tex to tell me why he was in San Fran when the shit hit the fan.
It turns out that he had, in fact, been talking to homos online, and that he traveled to California to meet them. But it was not to fuck them, literally. It was to fuck them up physically. This is something Tex says he likes to do when he gets a day off from the cattle ranch he manages back east. “See, we ain’t got us no queers out thar in Texas. So we got to go out to San Francisco fer queer beatins and sech.”
I nodded in understanding. While I do not personally engage in queer beatings and such, I respect people’s right to do so. In fact, after living amongst all the Candy-assed bed-wetting leftists in Cali for so long, I found Tex and his approach to life to be quite liberating and refreshing. Maybe I was going to like it in Texas!
Tex then said, “Well, it’s yer turn, lil buckaroo!” I asked Tex what he was talking about. “What were yer lilly white ass doing in feg town?” I told him, “I was fucking bitches auditioning for a new fuck flick I was making.” Tex shook his head and laughed.
I wandered what Tex thought of me. Here he is, the epitome of a man from the old west, typified by living a moral and honorable life. I suddenly was overcome by a deep wave of shame in the face of the good and wholesomeness exuded by Tex. I bowed my head in disgrace. Imagine how I felt. I had fucked away my whole life on pussy and coke. Now, here I am, 50 years old and absolutely no goals set for the balance of my life, except for more pussy and coke. Sigh …
My sudden and overwhelming deep depressive state must have registered with Tex. He looked over at me staring at my feet and said, “It’s ok, you know?” I asked what he meant by that. He continued.
“It’s ok that you is a pussy chasing degenerate. Hell, the world needs porn. If I had not seen porn at a young age then I would not have learned how to fuck right fer years to come. I would have suffered years of humiliation learning how to properly bone a chick. But thanks to porn, I was able to master my stroke by 16. Without my confidence I most likely would not have poked Nelly Ann like the hard stud I am today. I totally crushed her pussy! Then she became my wife. All this, thanks to pornography.”
I thought about this. Tex was right, wonderfully right! I never really considered that I was doing the world a service by making porn movies. A wide grin took over my face. I felt…pride! It was unfamiliar to me. In fact, I did not really know what it was. But it felt good. I glanced over at Tex, who was grinning too. Then he said, “That’s right, fuck boy. YOU have value as a man. That makes you ever bit as real man as I am.”
I felt like I had won the fucking lottery. Never before in my entire life have I ever had one bit of self-esteem. Now my cup runneth over thanks to Tex! I had been doing God’s work all along and I just didn’t know it. I wanted to celebrate. I asked Tex, “You want to snort some blow?” He replied, “No sir, but you go right ahead and enjoy yerself”.
Finally, it could no longer be ignored. When the widespread cannibalism began it was too late to stop the spread. Their numbers increased exponentially. Pretty soon everybody was gone. Well, everyone except for little pockets of survivors here and there, of which I was one.
Life was hard for us. It was hard to tell who was cursed: them or us. Perhaps we both were. Every hour we survived was both a blessing and curse. Some could not take it and opted out. The rest of us fought for our survival with every breath and ounce of strength we had so we could live.
We survived in the dark, like moles. We ate rats, bugs, snakes, whatever we could find. It did not matter. We scavenged for what we needed. Guns and ammunition were top priority, over food. Water was important too, very important. Most of our water came from rain. Then we distilled it to filter out impurities.
When faced with the constant struggle for survival against an enemy that both outnumbers you and cannot die, the struggle against nature, and for basic needs, you change. Your morality changes. Life has immense value to you. That is, YOUR life has value to you. Other people’s lives, maybe not so much. We all changed over those weeks and months following the outbreak. But none of us changed for the better.
Before it began I worked as a talent scout for a film production company in Los Angeles. You may have heard of our little company, Bango Wango. We put out quite a few hit films. Our biggest film was “Big Black Cocks Destroy Little Asian Hotties”. It was very, VERY HOT!! . It received 4.5 out of 5 Hard-Ons in the Adult Video Review. We also were responsible for “Women Fucking Strangers in Cars, Part 12” and “Hot Girl Bangs 200 Guys at Once”. We liked to stick with a tried and true formula.
Just before the outbreak exploded into all-out murderous zombie hoards and mass cannibalistic attacks, my boss, Doc “Ramrod” Rambo, sent me up to San Francisco to do a casting call for a promising upcoming film to be called “Men Fucking Hot Women”. My job was to evaluate all the girls. I interview each of them. Then I look at them naked. Then I fuck them. If I think they would be good in the film, I stuff some blow up their noses and taken them back to LA with me. You know, it’s the industry standard business model.
As it turned out, San Francisco is the worst place in the world to be in the zombie apocalypse. You would probably think that in my line of work we would be open to deviant sexual identities and practices. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. See, these leftist Dem pigs are trying to gay and tranny everyone. This reduces our target market! We shoot straight hetero shit, only. Partly, this is because it is what we all prefer. Partly, and very importantly, it is where most of the money is. And, our primary financier is a raging white supremacist who disapproves of weird leftist sex shit. I can’t say that I blame him either.
It is well known that San Fran has the highest ratio of freaks in the world. Let me tell you, having a decrepit, rotting zombie trying to murder and eat you is rather disconcerting. Having a tranny zombie coming after you is downright terrifying! Imagine, a 6.5 foot tall highly feminine zombie coming at you, with a wang flopping around. Many folks get caught staring at shit like that (e.g., flopping wangs on fem looking zombie ghouls), and fail to notice the zombies creeping up on them from behind. The poor bastard becomes dinner, and all because of the freak show science and deranged politics that went on prior to the outbreak.
But something worse happened. It stands to reason that zombies, as a primal version of a human being, want to eat. It is its primary need. But those trannies, they weren’t human in any traditional sense. They wore their sexuality on their sleeves for everyone to see. Their sexuality was their identity. This being the case, they are far different from all other human beings in life. Therefore, it stands to reason that they would be far different in death.
Zombie trannies don’t want to eat you. They want to fuck you. Since death causes brain capacity to diminish substantially, they revert to a primitive animal. This means that morality no longer plays a role in their heads. All they want to do is fuck, fuck, fuck. Obviously, nobody consensually fucks a rotting corpse. Thus, they are rapists too. It’s reverse-necro rape phenomena. I seen it. It’s real.
Maybe if we kept them in the closet back before the outbreak these tranny ghouls would only want to eat us alive. But toward the end days the leftist pigs encouraged their antisocial and barbaric urges. They normalized it. They encouraged the freaks to extract their inner abominable urges and place them at the forefront of their existence with absolutely no regard for the impact on other people and society.
See, it was the leftist movements that doomed humanity. Why? For power? For wealth? Hubris? Who knows. All I know is that I am one of the few survivors. Me, along with other survivors, are on constant guard against zombie attack. They roam around in hoards, either looking to eat us or rape us. In fact, sometimes it is both. I have seen some poor bastards being both eaten and raped at the same time. That, my friends, is some ghoulish shit.
It was only a matter of time before the survivor numbers dwindled. I eventually hooked up with a fella from back East that went by the name “Tex”. He was a tough son of a gun. Together we stood a much better chance at survival. One night while camped out under an overpass Tex, with a long drawn out southern drawl, said, “Well now, fuck boy, I think we’uns need ta think bout headed back east, away from the hoards and the feggets.”
Tex reasoned that we could live in rural areas and pretty much be steer clear of zombies altogether. I asked Tex, “What about the tranny zombies?!?” Agitated, old Tex said, “We ain’t got none of that thar sheeyit in Texas, fuck no!” I was all in for Tex’s plan.
We jacked a Dodge Charger in Compton. I hotwired it. Tex said, “Well shit fire, fuck boy! I thought ya’ll had to be one of them thar negroes to knowd how to do that sheeyit! Heh heh heh!” We managed to collect enough gasoline that was still good to get us to Texas. We put it in all sorts of containers and pulled it behind us in a trailer. Tex rigged up a trailer hitch on the ghetto ride for the trip.
I was a long and arduous journey. You may think it would be easy since there wasn’t anyone left to cause a traffic jam, but you would be wrong. There were abandoned cars everywhere, with zombies peppered about here and there. We were viciously attacked in Las Vegas by a hoard of zombies dressed like Debbie Reynolds. Fortunately, we managed to escape with our honor intact.
One night we camped out under the stars. We caught a couple of large lizards and cooked them over an open fire. After dinner we relaxed and watched the stars as we smoked cigars from a box of Padron we found at our last stop. Something had piqued my curiosity about Tex. Finally, I had to ask him.
“Hey, Tex?”, I said. “Yep”, he replied. I asked, “What were you doing in San Francisco? I mean, you have made it pretty clear that San Fran ain’t got much to draw you to it.” Tex said, “You don’t need to knowd all bout that, fuck boy.” I kept on prying. Old Tex eventually relented.
“I was in San Francisco to meet a man I had met online. Ya’ll can think of it as a date, if ya’ll want”, said Tex. I was floored!!! Tex just came out to me. A gay Texan? I just could mot wrap my head around it. I had to know, so I asked, “But Tex, does that mean that … YOU are a homo?!?”
Tex pulled out his revolver and violently struck me with the butt of the gun right on my nose. Blood spewed out as the pain was excruciatingly throbbing in my sinus cavities. Then I heard Tex say, “I AIN’T NO GODDAM FEGGET, YOU ASSHOLE!! What in tarnation is wrong with you?!?”
I managed to get the bleeding to subside after a while. Clearly, Tex had broken my nose. I could not breathe through it anymore and the painful throbbing was still going strong. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tex! It was just a fucking question”, I said.
After a couple moments Tex said “Ah, hell fire, fuck boy. Ima sorry fer braking yer nose. But ya’ll jest cain’t ask a man shit like that, ya know?” I nodded. Of course, he was right. But I grew up in Candy Ass Land here in California, so it’s rather easy to forget what a man is, and is supposed to be. Tex was a real man, that is for certain. With a little prodding I got Tex to tell me why he was in San Fran when the shit hit the fan.
It turns out that he had, in fact, been talking to homos online, and that he traveled to California to meet them. But it was not to fuck them, literally. It was to fuck them up physically. This is something Tex says he likes to do when he gets a day off from the cattle ranch he manages back east. “See, we ain’t got us no queers out thar in Texas. So we got to go out to San Francisco fer queer beatins and sech.”
I nodded in understanding. While I do not personally engage in queer beatings and such, I respect people’s right to do so. In fact, after living amongst all the Candy-assed bed-wetting leftists in Cali for so long, I found Tex and his approach to life to be quite liberating and refreshing. Maybe I was going to like it in Texas!
Tex then said, “Well, it’s yer turn, lil buckaroo!” I asked Tex what he was talking about. “What were yer lilly white ass doing in feg town?” I told him, “I was fucking bitches auditioning for a new fuck flick I was making.” Tex shook his head and laughed.
I wandered what Tex thought of me. Here he is, the epitome of a man from the old west, typified by living a moral and honorable life. I suddenly was overcome by a deep wave of shame in the face of the good and wholesomeness exuded by Tex. I bowed my head in disgrace. Imagine how I felt. I had fucked away my whole life on pussy and coke. Now, here I am, 50 years old and absolutely no goals set for the balance of my life, except for more pussy and coke. Sigh …
My sudden and overwhelming deep depressive state must have registered with Tex. He looked over at me staring at my feet and said, “It’s ok, you know?” I asked what he meant by that. He continued.
“It’s ok that you is a pussy chasing degenerate. Hell, the world needs porn. If I had not seen porn at a young age then I would not have learned how to fuck right fer years to come. I would have suffered years of humiliation learning how to properly bone a chick. But thanks to porn, I was able to master my stroke by 16. Without my confidence I most likely would not have poked Nelly Ann like the hard stud I am today. I totally crushed her pussy! Then she became my wife. All this, thanks to pornography.”
I thought about this. Tex was right, wonderfully right! I never really considered that I was doing the world a service by making porn movies. A wide grin took over my face. I felt…pride! It was unfamiliar to me. In fact, I did not really know what it was. But it felt good. I glanced over at Tex, who was grinning too. Then he said, “That’s right, fuck boy. YOU have value as a man. That makes you ever bit as real man as I am.”
I felt like I had won the fucking lottery. Never before in my entire life have I ever had one bit of self-esteem. Now my cup runneth over thanks to Tex! I had been doing God’s work all along and I just didn’t know it. I wanted to celebrate. I asked Tex, “You want to snort some blow?” He replied, “No sir, but you go right ahead and enjoy yerself”.
