Club Zombie 1-4

by Z. Allora

  “I don’t know. I mean, they’re four very attractive men. Imagine them taking a bath.” Beau could have attempted to sound a little more convincing.

  Lafayette turned toward Alex. “Alex, I’ll catch you tomorrow evening for the meeting.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Turning to the rest of them, Lafayette said, “I hope to see the rest of you soon. Stop by my office anytime.” Staring at Beau, he asked, “You think you’re funny?”

  Beau cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, pretty much. I find myself very amusing, actually.”

  Lafayette’s eyes widened, and a smile flashed across his mouth until he schooled his grin. “Do you? Well, let’s see how amusing I find you.” He spanked his wayward mate out of the bathroom and, by the sounds of it, he whacked Beau out of the apartment while Beau kept promising to be very entertaining.

  God, that was hot. Cutter hadn’t meant to whimper.

  Uli and Storm both wrapped their arms around him.

  “Alex will take care of you later.” Storm cupped his big hand around Cutter’s cock, and even through his jeans made him shiver with anticipation. His cock was now fully hard.

  “Let’s take a bath first.” Uli dropped to his knees, unzipped Cutter’s jeans and, God yes, engulfed him in his talented mouth.

  Uli sucked on him and rolled what was left of the orange candy stick over his cock.

  Alex turned on the faucets, filling the tub from different locations.

  Uli licked his lips and pulled away from where Cut needed him. “Yum, your cock tastes like an orange.”

  Storm yanked off his T-shirt, and pushed down his jeans. He wore no underwear.

  Cut asked, “Um, oh. Do I?” instead of begging for Uli to continue.

  Alex and Storm appeared intent on kissing him everywhere, just not on his cock. Each item was removed amid a ton of orangey kisses, leaving him a bit sticky. He tilted his head right and left to maximize the attention.

  Maybe a bath was code for sex?

  Oh, there were Storm’s teeth. Yeah, he’d have another hickey.

  Cutter traded wet kisses with Alex, then more urgent kisses with Storm, and then back to desperately kissing Alex. Where was Uli?

  Alex led him to the tub.

  Uli sat in the water, reclining against the edge, leisurely jerking himself off as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Lean over the edge of the tub,” Alex instructed him.

  “What?”

  Storm smirked. “Here, let me spell it out for you. Stick your erection in Uli’s mouth, and if you do it right, I’ll kiss you, Alex will smack your ass, and Uli will suck.”

  The words registered. Cutter hurried over to the edge of the tub. Storm was there to catch him in his arms when he almost fell. Cutter bent over Uli’s head where it was resting against the edge of the tub, and then Uli slurped him in.

  And oh, fuck yeah! Alex spanked him with a firm hand.

  Storm kissed him with an urgency that hid the fact that this was round three for them.

  Cutter pushed deep into Uli’s mouth and back up to meet Alex’s palm.

  Sting. Suck. Sting. Suck. And the kissing rounded out the sensation of being totally loved by his mates.

  “Does it feel good?” Storm asked, as if he didn’t know how good Uli was with his mouth and how wonderfully Alex made him soar.

  Whimpering was the only response Cutter gave as Uli stole his words with a hard suck.

  “Come when you want to, Cut,” Alex demanded.

  He stifled his desire and held off for a little while. He kissed Storm and, oh God, erupted into Uli’s talented mouth.

  Spank! Suck! And the kissing was all too much. He grunted and came hard.

  Alex spanked him through his orgasm.

  Ahhh! When he was done, he quickly accepted Storm’s cock and sucked him off while Uli pampered his satisfied cock with the wet heat of his mouth.

  Storm’s shout echoed off the bathroom walls as he filled Cutter’s mouth. Mmmm, he tasted delicious.

  “Bend over for me, Uli,” Alex requested, stepping foot into the tub.

  “Yeah.” Uli squirmed around and leaned over the tub, grabbing on to Storm for support.

  Alex pumped the fancy dispenser on the wall. A vanilla scent filled the room from the lubricant he used on Uli.

  Tossing a folded towel to the floor, Cut found his place on his knees. He engulfed Uli’s cock, taking the shaft to the root in one suck. He wanted to give as good as he’d gotten. He peeked to see Storm bent over, kissing Uli with long, wet kisses, and Alex sliding inside.

  He tapped on Storm’s thigh to get his attention.

  Waving him over, he kissed Storm, and together they slurped around Uli’s cock. Sweet kisses threatened to entice Cutter’s cock into responding, but it was way too soon. His tongue tangled with Storm’s, making up for all the times he’d gone without.

  Closing his eyes to savor the situation, he heard the action of each man. Alex thrust in and out, his thighs slapping against Uli.

  Storm kissed and licked Uli’s wrist.

  “Ow!” Uli whined, “Watch your teeth!”

  Fuck, Storm really was a vampire!

  Cutter turned his head and engulfed Uli’s cock. He gave him a few deep sucks, and Uli unloaded directly into Cut’s mouth.

  Alex hissed, signaling his end was imminent. He hissed his pleasure as he thrust Uli through an orgasm and moaned through his own.

  With one last swallow and a final lick, Cut kissed first Uli, then Storm, and finally Alex. They were his mates. His.

  After their bath, which turned out to be more about getting dirty than getting clean, they headed over to Club Zombie for Beau’s heavily promoted drag night to bring in new potential mates. Many of the zombies were dressed in drag.

  “That’s a great costume.” Uli pointed out an attractive person wearing a tight cheerleading uniform; her high ponytails were askew, but she was adorable in drag.

  “Oh, hell no.” Storm stood and abruptly turned away from the door.

  Glancing over, Cutter almost swallowed his tongue. “Fuck! Are you kidding me?”

  “She probably doesn’t know it’s drag, not a costume party.” Alex took a sip of his wine.

  Storm stared at him for a second, then returned his focus to the entrance. “That’s not just some guy in drag. That’s my little brother.”

  Zombies Coming

  Club Zombie Book 3

  To All Nonbinary and Gender Variant People:

  Thank you for sharing your stories and yourselves with me.

  Thank you to everyone who accepts me for exactly who I am.

  Many hugs and much love,

  Z. Allora

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Dez N. York, Andrea, and Katie Obbink for working with me to help put out a polished version of what was in my head.

  Wishing happiness and blessings to Kirk Waite, Andrew Marks, MT, Rin Sparrow, Danny Brüggemann, and Eden Winters for untangling my words. They shake me until my idea are fully formed.

  Much love to Ally Blue for giving me Erick. Her gentle watering of this plot bunny spurred me into writing the Club Zombie series, which started with Erick.

  Thank you, Reese Dante, for sharing your artistry and for bringing Erick out for the world to see.

  Dear Reader,

  I know my Pretty Ones are aware that I worship the edges and validate everyone. However, this can never be said enough—there are infinite ways people express gender and orientation. These characters are on a unique journey. It is not representative of all gender fluid or nonbinary people. It is their way of presenting and expressing themselves and is not the only way. If you have any questions or think I’ve gotten something horribly wrong, please contact me.

  It is never my intention to trigger or harm anyone.

  Many hugs & much love,

  Z. Allora

  (Z.AlloraHappyEndings@gmail.com)

  1

  Look What the Dead Dra
gged In…

  Erick McGrath’s hands shook as he pulled into the rest stop, but he couldn’t chicken out now.

  He glanced at the bright pink flyer on the seat next to him, hoping the piece of paper would give him courage. As soon as he’d found an opportunity, he’d snatched the paper off the social bulletin board in his dorm.

  Club Zombie Invites You to

  DRAG NIGHT

  Come as You Are

  Come as You Want to Be

  Or Just Cum

  Club Zombie wasn’t the kind of place Erick would normally have the guts to visit. He recalled his father forbidding Ethan to go. Though like most things their parents told his brother not to do, Ethan simply ignored the warning and did exactly what he wanted.

  Erick swallowed the sob threatening to escape. God, almost a year had passed since Ethan died in a car crash, and he missed his brother so much.

  Even though their father had tried to pit them against each other, Erick had resisted and always looked up to Ethan. Trying to be everything his father expected him to be didn’t give Erick time for close friends but having Ethan had eased his loneliness. Now his brother was gone, and if Erick had learned anything, it was life could be cruel and way too short. You needed to grab happiness where you could, and that’s what he planned to do.

  Ethan would have been proud Erick escaped—kind of—from under their father’s thumb. Though truth be told, neither parent paid Erick much attention since he’d gone to college. They assumed he’d do as he should, and he was far less interesting than his father’s businesses and his mother’s charity events.

  Erick had always done what they expected. To avoid his father’s wrath, he jumped through all of the McGrath family hoops. He excelled in the internships, the summer jobs, and got into all the colleges his father chose. He even studied prelaw, though he hated the idea of becoming a lawyer.

  His brother had been the opposite and had thumbed his nose at expectations whenever he could. Though Ethan could always weather any storm, at times Erick felt Ethan might have invited trouble. But not him. Wimpy Erick had always avoided conflict.

  Fibbing to his parents about needing to stay on campus during spring break—under the guise of getting more work done—was a monumental milestone. However, they didn’t bat an eyelash and seemed relieved not to have to deal with him.

  Instead of his usual Friday night study session, he even cut his last class and drove to the middle of nowhere in South Carolina.

  Erick took a deep, steadying breath, grabbed his stuff out of the back seat, and headed to the restrooms.

  Finding a single bathroom, Erick entered and locked the door. He put his dress bag on the hook and stripped. With his hands still trembling, he unzipped the bag.

  All week he’d kept trying on the contents again and again. He had ironed the sleeveless, slate-blue-and-white top, then carefully pressed the darts into crisp lines so the matching skirt would be flirty. His cheerleading costume was beautiful. Well, uniform really, because he ordered a real one.

  He put his arms through the lacy padded bra’s straps. Why were the hooks in the back? Darn it, he should have gotten the front closure one, even if the slate-blue one had been out of stock. When he won the bra war, he slipped into the matching satin panties.

  He caught his reflection in the mirror. Wow! Shifting closer, he stared. Ah, that’s why I splurged.

  Sighing, he pulled on the poly-blend top. The fabric glided down his body and cinched at the waist. He stepped into the slate-blue skirt and zipped it closed. Next, he pulled on the blue underskirt panties, then moved back from the mirror to get the complete view.

  Erick giggled and spun in a circle. The skirt swirled around him, twirling up to show off his shaved legs.

  He looked adorable, like a teen ready to cheer for her boyfriend.

  Time to get back on the road, so he put on his sneakers then threw his overcoat over the uniform, grabbed his backpack, and scurried to the car.

  The drive to the club took forever.

  Eventually a road sign warned Zombies Ahead. Another made him laugh: Zombies Suck.

  The neon-lit Club Zombie sign beckoned him. He was finally here.

  Geez, the parking lot looked full, but he found a spot under one of the lampposts.

  Shit. Erick sat in his car outside the club. Could he really go in?

  Peering into the visor mirror, he traced eyeliner around his eyes and dabbed on a bit of brown shadow. He rubbed in the color the way they did on the YouTube videos, but his blending didn’t look nearly as good. Not too bad after he added some mascara, but he needed something else. He swept his hair into two somewhat sloppy and possibly crooked ponytails on either side of his head.

  After jumping out of the car, he threw his coat into the back seat and caught his reflection in the window.

  “Darn it.” His hair looked like a mess. Maybe he should have gotten a hotel room so he could better prepare. He made some adjustments and then decided screw it. Ethan wouldn’t have let lack of perfection bother him one bit. Erick would own his messy hair.

  Feeling light and free, he did another spin around and giggled again.

  He slipped back into the car, toed off his sneakers and the socks, and put on an impractical pair of heels. Looking down his shaved legs to his feet, prettily displayed in the heels, he grinned.

  Time to go. Grabbing his blue-and-white pom-poms and his beloved purse—a tiny white leather wrist clutch he’d nabbed at a vintage store—he stepped out of the car.

  He stared at the neon lights of Club Zombie.

  It was now or never, so he did what his big brother would have done and headed into the club.

  2

  Cassidy’s Hell

  No, don’t go! Don’t leave me alone. Please.

  “No!” Cassidy shot upright in bed, trying to grab someone who wasn’t there.

  Just a dream. Just a dream.

  He wiped a hand over his wet face, grabbed the phone with a shaking hand, and texted Doc. There’s got to be stronger sleep meds.

  The doctor’s immediate text asked Bad dreams?

  Yeah, the usual.

  The one where everyone you ever knew vanishes?

  No need to rehash. You got it in one, Doc.

  Cassidy, you should speak to a therapist. You’ve been through an incredible amount of loss, which you’ve never dealt with.

  Or he could continue to block out the bullshit. Stronger meds?

  Not finding your mate is difficult. You’re having these dreams more often.

  Yeah, if by “more often,” the good doctor meant “constantly.”

  Stop by my office tomorrow and let’s see what we can do.

  Also known as “give Doc an opportunity to convince Cassidy to visit a headshrinker.” However, at this point, Cassidy couldn’t even remember a time when he had a peaceful sleep, so he would be open to anything. You got it, Doc.

  He scrolled through his cell. Nothing major there until he noticed the time.

  Shit, he needed to get a move on.

  Cassidy cranked his Get Your Game On playlist and took a quick shower.

  He used the towel to wipe the mirror and leaned closer, dancing to the music as he worked product into his hair. “Come on, you can do this. It’s Drag Night. You love Drag Night.”

  Tonight happened to be the one night a month no one gave him shit about his clothing choices. Once he’d zipped and pinned his white kilt, he peered into the mirror. The kilt looked good on him, so fuck them.

  He sighed at his poor word choice, especially since he hadn’t fucked or been fucked in forever. He brushed on a bit of mascara on his lashes to finish off fully-lined and shadowed eyes.

  He used to adore screwing….

  Geez! Good thing I use waterproof makeup, because tears of frustration always leak to the surface. He dabbed a tissue at the moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes.

  “You can do this.” He added some deep red lip stain. Letting the liquid dry, he hoped the
color would last through at least the first blowjob.

  Using some more hair wax, he smoothed back the sides and volumized the top of his jet-black hair. His hairstyle could once again be considered retro. That was totally tubular, ’cause he was and always would be a child of the ’80s. Though in the last decade or so, men had taken to yanking on his longer hair while he sucked them off. The roughness annoyed him, especially since most of the ungrateful bastards didn’t even offer to reciprocate. Not that it mattered; he couldn’t have enjoyed them anyway.

  God, how many blowjobs had he given?

  He’d been living at Club Zombie for a little over thirty-two years.

  Damn, thirty-two years! After his parents booted him from the house at seventeen for being one of those faggots they’d seen on TV, he did what he needed to do to survive.

  Hell, he’d found a community of friends who became his instant family. And he had enjoyed a semblance of happiness until a frightening disease ravaged through them. HIV/AIDS killed his beloved friends one by one, and no one helped or cared. Why would their deaths matter? No one gave a shit unless it affected them.

  A few days before his nineteenth birthday, he had been convinced his profound exhaustion meant he’d be following his friends into the grave, and he almost welcomed death. At least then his misery would be over, and he wouldn’t be alone.

  Instead, two members of Club Zombie found him, swept him off the streets, and brought him to this safe haven to live. He found out zombies weren’t the brain-chewing ick-monsters that books and movies portrayed since White Zombie in 1932. Zombies simply had a protein deficiency, which meant in order to function, they needed male essence to survive. Oh, and Cassidy was one of them.

  And he didn’t age.

  Club Zombie gave him an adorable apartment he loved, fed him, clothed him, and spoiled the hell out of him. The first few years here allowed him to live out all his teenaged fantasies of lots of sex with beautiful men, wild orgasms, and an open community to explore. Even after completion of his transition when he turned twenty-three years old, he no longer aged, but he also no longer came. Lack of orgasms sucked, but he got by with his new friends.