Okay, so this wasn’t technically a rejected comedy piece. It was written for a friend of mine on his birthday because he was an artist. I made some sort of flip comment that he could just draw a picture for someone’s birthday and he suggested that I write a story. So, I wrote this story because it was both vulgar and had zombies, which I thought would appeal to him. Enjoy, for the first time in public, Zombie Cock.
Zombie Cock: A Cautionary Tale
Copyright 2004
written by Tony DiGerolamo
Peter Johnson had better days. This he knew long before his wife cut it off.
Peter’s enormous penis (10-10 1/2 inches) had always served him well when it came to the ladies. In his twenties, he grew up on South Street in Philadelphia getting hassled by the cops and diving headlong into the local punk scene. Tattoos and piercings riddled his body. This, combined with his heroine chic looks (minus the heroine), and perpetual standing in at least two punk bands provided him with a steady flow of beautiful women eager to fuck him.
Now in his thirties and working managing a nightclub, he had become more selective. Peter was always looking to trade up: To dump the hottie with the crazy ex and the depression problem for the hottie with just the crazy ex. Eventually, he somehow whittled the list down to Ann.
Ann was like a sculpted piece of alabaster. Her awe-inspiring body would’ve turned Michael Angelo straight. She was a model, 24 and from a rich family. After two years of dating, it seemed insane for Peter not to marry her. She could hold her own in any conversation. She was a talented musician, well-traveled and well-read.
Most important for Peter, she loved sex and loved sex with Peter. They did it constantly, with drugs, without drugs, in different places— There was nothing she wouldn’t give Peter. She even got her tongue pierced just for him. And there was that memorable night she brought Katey in for the three-way.
But somehow, for Peter, it wasn’t enough.
For Peter, having sex with different women was like trying on different shoes or test driving new cars— He didn’t see any reason to deny himself the pleasure even if he had the best shoes and the world’s nicest car.
He banged Diane, the girl who wanted passes to the Friday show, Thursday night. On Fridays, it was Shawna, the bartender with the latex fetish. Saturday was an “open” day, but he’d usually find some 19 or 20 year-old hottie and trade her some shots of Jack Daniels for a blowjob in his office. Sunday was an Ann day, but he got so bored after her aunt’s party one time, he slipped away to a massage parlor and screwed an exquisite Korean girl. Monday was Georgina, an older, married woman he’d met on the Internet. She was cheating on her husband and almost as addicted to sex as Peter. Tuesday was Bonnie, an ex-girlfriend from his punk days who craved anal. Wednesday Vivian, the British DJ that would do anything to spin at his club.
There were others, countless others. So many in fact that he couldn’t even respond to Ann when she demanded to know how many and who. He loved Ann, but he just loved sex more. His penis was constantly doing the thinking. Everything in his life had been built around it.
So when Ann playfully tied him to the bed that faithful evening he suspected nothing. His penis suspected nothing. Both Peter and his penis enjoyed Ann’s incredible oral sex skills short of completion. That’s when she pulled out the butcher knife and started making crazy demands. She was hysterical. Past the point of no return. He and his penis knew there was nothing either could say to stop the inevitable.
Peter never saw the knife, just the torrent of blood spurting from between his legs. The images were fuzzy. Perhaps Peter didn’t remember or didn’t want to. It was painful and some time before he woke up the in hospital room. The doctor was there to give him the bad news.
“I’m afraid the police couldn’t find the top portion of your penis,” said the doctor somberly. “But the news isn’t all bad. Because of your significant size, we should be able to fashion you a new penis from what you have left.”
“H-h-how much do I have left, doc?” asked Peter gingerly.
“Five, maybe, five and quarter inches I’d guess. That’s well within average.”
Ann was arrested while Peter recovered. For days he lay in pain in misery. But when the bandages came off one day an amazing thing happened: The young nurse that was redressing him was hot! Peter, out of habit, didn’t bother to hide his erection from her. (At his normal size, this would’ve been quite impressive.) Still, he was fit and she was attractive and sympathetic to him.
Then, as she slowly removed the dressing and cleaned his wound he got off! Like a firehouse he came, right onto the cheek of the young nurse. She laughed in disbelief as Peter apologized. She cleaned up, rebandaged and left. That’s when Peter realized he’d be more sensitive than ever! This new cock would be a whole new world of fucking for him! He remembered the horrible piercings he had witnessed on South Street years ago. Young men doing horrible things to their penises and scrotum that just looked painful, not erotic. But now he understood. He was small, but better.
This would be his ultimate revenge against Ann.
Months passed and after one cosmetic operation, Peter Johnson was back in action! He sued Ann and her family for millions. She went to court and he went to Europe. Peter travel and fucked in 15 different languages. Every girl was better than the next and with his wealth his endless supply of sex would be assured.
But on the anniversary of the attack it came (pardon the pun). He was just back in Philadelphia. But after enduring a delayed plane on the tarmac, he didn’t get back to his row house until after three. The bars were closed and he didn’t feel like an escort, so he popped in a DVD of porn and started to masturbate.
That’s when he heard the sound outside the hall. After his injury, the sound of his masturbating had changed. But now, as he stroked himself, he could hear that same old noise out in the hall. After a few seconds it stopped, so he went back to the DVD. He eventually came, but it was unsatisfying. It was more of a quick one-off before bed.
Peter dragged himself through his house turning off the lights. As he got closer to the bedroom, the rest of the house got darker and the sound, just on the edge of hearing, teased his ears again. He shrugged and continued to his bedroom.
He flung open the door and saw it. It was the rest of his penis (5-5 1/4 inches of it) gray-green in color with a blackish blood trail on the sheets behind it. Peter staggered back out of the doorway, nearly collapsing.
Was Ann in the house? He rushed to the phone in the bathroom, but as soon as he turned on the lights, there it was on the hamper! It was moving too! Inching its way over and beckoning him. Peter wanted to run, but he couldn’t resist. He always listened to his penis over the years.
In the Jersey suburbs, Ann was trying to put her affairs in order. She had exhausted all her legal options and the lawyers had gotten the best deal that they could: Six months for assault and then probation for two years. Her bedroom was full of boxes. They would all be put in storage until her release. Packing the last few items of her personal belongings, she fell onto the canopy bed and cried.
A few seconds later, Peter burst through the door. Ann turned, shocked at his presence, but even more shocked that his fly was open. There, hanging out and rotting but fully erect, was Peter’s entire gray-green penis hastily sewn together. Ann screamed in terror.
“Peter! No!”
“I can’t stop! It’s making me! It’s making me!”
Peter fell on top of Ann, tearing her clothes off and humping her savagely. The zombie cock pushed through her clothes and Ann was quickly brought to orgasm. But the pleasure didn’t last. Peter’s thrusts became more and more aggressive. Blood trickled out of Ann’s nose and her eyes began to roll back into her head. Finally the humping had pushed her head to headboard and it smacked roughly against it until a meaty sounding crack ended it all.
Peter was relieved. Breathing heavily, he withdrew and looked down in disgust. It looked worse than ever. It was rapidly corrupting the rest of his healthy penis and he could feel it urge him to do more. Fucking women to death would be the next step and would be the revenge for the penis he had abandoned.
“No! I can’t listen to you anymore!”
But Peter’s penis had a mind of its own. Already it was making him walk out of Ann’s room and scroll through the various addresses in his mind of women who would fuck him. Peter saw a box cutter sitting on top of the boxes.
He knew his penis would never let him cut it off again, but what about something that would make the penis stop? Yes! Where was the power of the penis?! In the balls! Cut the balls and the penis dies! Peter sliced. The last thing he remembered was a torrent of blood.
