How many have you seen?


Rex rushed over and growled. He barked a couple of times.

Reverend Tommy looked at the older man. The older man said "He's telling us it's the left arm."

"What's the left arm?" I asked. They ignored me. Rex continued wuffing and howing and his hackles were raised as he looked me.

"Easy, boy. We'll take care of it," the older man said, and stepped forward. He stood right at the edge of the table, and reached out a hand.

I was naked. I tried to flinch back. I'd never been raped; I'd never even been touched in any kind of sexual way by anyone but Bridget...

... oh, and Ivanka, but that doesn't count, right, because that was in Hell and having sex with a Valkyrie in Hell while I'm asleep in my real life can't possibly count as "real" sex, no matter how hot it is...

... but I couldn't really flinch at all because I was strapped down pretty tightly. The old man didn't pay any attention to that at all, either, and his meaty hand with all these callouses and incongruously neatly manicured nails touched me at my left shoulder. Rex howled as he did that.

"REX!" the older man snapped. "Quiet, now. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" asked Reverend Tommy. "How many have you seen?"

"As many as you, I'll bet."

Something moved off to the left and distracted me from watching the older man for a second, and I tried to make out what it was but I was pulled back by the calloused fingers touching my shoulder right where it met my body, just near my left breast. I looked at his hand and then squeezed my eyes shut and waited for what I assumed would be next. It had only been about a week that I'd known who he was from attending his church with Brigitte, but I couldn't believe that Reverend Tommy would take part in a rape.

The hand ran along the joint of my shoulder and then down on my side, to my rib cage.

"Right here," the older man said. "That's where it's joined. So it is just the left arm. You were right, Rex."

"There's other parts," Reverend Tommy said. "Look." I kept my eyes tightly shut, so I didn't see where he moved to, but his voice was closer when he spoke again. "The right hand. The right leg."

On my left, the older man said "I know that. But I'm not so concerned about those." I felt hands on my face then, and my left eye was pried open. He was peering into it, closely. He motioned for the cop to come over. "Tilt that light this way," he said. The cop came up behind him, reached up for it, put his hand on it. I kept my right eye shut but he had my left eye pinned open. I couldn't see Reverend Tommy at all; he must have been on my right.

The light tilted up and just before it hit my eye and blinded me temporarily, I saw a hand on the cop's left shoulder, wearing a big gaudy mood ring. At the same moment, the cop gasped and Reverend Tommy said sharply "How did you get in here?"

Then a revenant pulled the cop back, the lamp swung crazily, Rex went nuts barking, and blood spurted out of the chest of the older man, causing him to let go of my eye and slump over onto my naked body. I wasn't worried about being raped anymore; I was worried that he was dead.
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Naked & Spreadeagled.



Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over the World



A serialized story updated 1-2 times per week.


Two weeks ago, Rachel was a waitress in a coffee shop in New York City. She doesn't remember anything in her waking life before that. In her dreams, she remembers a lot longer, but she also spends time in Hell in her dreams. And her Octopus wants her to take over the world.

The story is told in parts (click the title to go to the chapter)

Rachel wakes up one day to realize that she doesn't know anything about her life. On the advice of her octopus, she walks south and meets Brigitte. And the revenants.

Part Two: In Hell:
Running from the Revenants, Rachel wakes up in Hell and seeks help from a Valkyrie.

Part Three: Heading East:
With Mr. Damned Soul tagging along, Rachel and Brigitte go where Doc tells them to go.
Shot down by ray guns, Rachel is taken to be interrogated.




Exclamation point:






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Naked and spreadeagled.


I was naked and stretched, spreadeagled, on a large table. It didn't seem to me to be set up for that purpose, which as I laid there at first made me feel better because I thought maybe if Reverend Tommy and the cops were not set up to interrogate me or keep me hostage, they wouldn't be very good at it.

Then, I thought if they're not very good at it, then they might just hurt me for the fun of it or accidentally or something, and I felt worse.

The table, I was pretty sure, was an old kitchen table. A solid wood, smooth, very nicely made kitchen table, but an old kitchen table anyway.

They'd shot me with something when I was crumpled in the net, some sort of electricity, but a really low current of it, I guessed. When they'd done it, my muscles had gone all loose and limp and I'd just flopped. After that, I was aware of what was going on but I couldn't really do anything about it. I was just a puddle of me, being picked up in the net and jammed into the back of the cop car and then taken here. They'd draped a blanket over me so I couldn't tell where I was in the city, just that I was inside a building of some sort. It felt basement-y: damp, dusty, unused. I turned my head side to side and tried to see stuff but I was pretty glared out by the lamp that was hanging over me. The lamp was not directly above my head. I didn't know if that was amateurish or politeness. Why would people who will shoot ray guns at you and then jab you with something electric to make it impossible to move and tie you to a kitchen table then be polite and not put the light right in your eyes.
But it was still bright enough and direct enough that I had afterimages on my retinas and couldn't see very much around me. Shapes all around, but they were obscured by purple and red blobs.
I figured out where I was in a moment though when people came walking in: Reverend Tommy. A cop. Some older man. And Rex, Brigitte's dad's dog.
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Part Four: I hate dogs.



Part Four: I hate dogs.

Having been dropped out of the dirigible into the net cast by Reverend Tommy, Rachel now faces off against a couple of someones who turn out to be her nemeses.
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Meanwhile... again...



posted today.

Welcome to
Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over the World

A serialized story updated 1-2 times per week.


Two weeks ago, Rachel was a waitress in a coffee shop in New York City. She doesn't remember anything in her waking life before that. In her dreams, she remembers a lot longer, but she also spends time in Hell in her dreams. And her Octopus wants her to take over the world.


The story is told in parts:




Rachel wakes up one day to realize that she doesn't know anything about her life. On the advice of her octopus, she walks south and meets Brigitte. And the revenants.






Running from the Revenants, Rachel wakes up in Hell and seeks help from a Valkyrie.




Part Three: Heading East:
With Mr. Damned Soul tagging along, Rachel and Brigitte go where Doc tells them to go.









Babies! Babies! Pets! Pets! is all about the Babies! And the Pets! . Check out the photos there, and send your own to win a t-shirt!


Big Mouth Frog:




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Meanwhile, Back In New York Again.



The man was tall and dark and muscular but Angelina had not been afraid of him when he approached her because many tall, dark, muscular men approached her.

Angelina was not afraid of him now, either, because she was unconscious. The man carried her, unhurriedly, through the streets of New York City in the pre-dawn hours, those hours at which the daylight is farthest away. When the sun first sets and the moon comes up -- not that either the sun or the moon were seen much in the alleys and narrow streets and at the bottom of buildings that Angelina frequented -- when the sun first sets and the moon comes up, daylight is gone, but it is easily remembered because it is only recently gone. The essence of light lingers in the air like cologne from a date that has kissed you good night and left.

When day is almost there, when the moon has gone away and the sun is about to rise -- an event only known in Angelina's world by a diffuse lightening of the air around her, since direct sunlight rarely reached her streets and never reached the basement apartment she slept in during the day-- when the moon has gone away and the sun is about to rise, there is an expectancy of daylight that is coming and the mind can reach back to memories of other days to know what is to come.

But at the middle of the night, as it was when the man slung Angelina's body over his shoulder and walked along the sidewalk between buildings which were only 30 or 40 or 50 stories tall, old buildings that were dwarfed by the 500-story rotating skyscrapers and arches and towers and other pinnacles of artistic perfection that made up the parts of New York where Angelina and the man never went, in the middle of the night, daylight is so far away from either end of the spectrum that the mind sees only dark.

Nobody was present to see the man as he walked with Angelina over his shoulder. Nobody was looking out windows that were boarded up in these buildings. Nobody was looking up from stairwells and fire escapes where, if a body was seen, it was sleeping something off. Nobody was walking the streets beside the man; if there were other Angelinas, they stayed out of sight and paid no attention to this Angelina, who drooled in her unconscious state.

Nobody was around to note that the man, several blocks later, walked up to a door and fumbled in his coat pocket for a key. Nobody was able to see the man pull the key out and drop something else out of his pocket. Nobody could later identify what dropped on the ground as a lady's hand, still wearing a ring, bloody at the wrist end from where it had been sawed, roughly, from a lady's arm.

The man picked up the hand, put it back in his pocket, and went inside the door.

Nobody was around to hear the door lock, and Angelina did not hear it because she had not woken.

Yet.
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