Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  The diaper was sort of the topping on the cake, a whole other kink he rarely indulged in, though every once in a while he visited a specialist and paid her to change his dirty drawers. If his wife ever found out it would be the end of him. She had put her foot down early in their relationship. No funny business. Sex was for making babies and for making up after a fight. They had never had a baby and he was too scared to fight with her. This meant that they fucking never fucking had sex.

  Since Penelope was coming to town, he’d taken the recent free time presented to him by the President and offered the woman a bunch of cash for a few hours of her time. She knew who he was and made no bones about the fact that it would cost an arm and a leg, not only for the fuck, but also for her complete silence on the matter.

  Money was no issue for Governor Perry. He had loads of it and loads more incoming, so an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills was nothing. She was going to be worth every penny.

  “Pendulous Penelope” was her stage name, but her real name was Anne Marie Cuckled and she was his complete obsession. Back when the web was new and young (from a porn standpoint) he’d had an account on her website under an anonymous name that he funded with a pre-paid credit card. She put on live shows for her paying fans; he was on every Thursday night from seven to nine while his wife was campaigning or at a book club meeting.

  The site eventually went down and was replaced with videos of Penelope. It wasn’t the same. He did sign on from time to time but he didn’t care for the crap that was on there. He liked seeing her live, naked, in the flesh, looking into the screen and licking her lips while her arms pressed her massive mammaries together.

  She’d picked the hotel and met him in the lobby. He wore a fake beard and moustache, black bowler hat, and an overcoat. To top off the ensemble, he’d picked up a set of shiny silver date-rapist sunglasses.

  He was so smitten that he could barely talk. When he stuttered out his name for the fourth time, she encouraged him to drink and relax. She picked up a bottle at the bar and they went up to the room.

  A convergence of things led to his current state of affairs. For one, he had been so excited all day that had to jerk off twice.

  “Listen, sugar, I have what you need right here. You said such nice things to me, so many sweet nothings. Now get it up and give it to me,” she simpered. Penelope leaned over and brushed her nipples over his face, his eyes, and his nose. His tongue leapt out for them but she pulled back at the last second.

  “I’m trying,” he whispered, and closed his eyes. He felt like he was on the verge of tears. All those years and now his tool refused to obey.

  Who was the tool now?

  “You’ve been trying for an hour, sugar. I tell you what – I got something you need right here.” Her boobs disappeared for a moment while she leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged around in her bag.

  It was not hot in the room, but it was muggy. When they’d arrived he had taken a shower, door open so he could be sure she didn’t run off with the cash. The first thing she did was turn on the air conditioner; within moments the room was sub-arctic. Governor Perry’s freshly showered and reeking-of-hotel-soap balls instantly drew up into his body.

  “Here. It’s the latest in male boner technology!” She held forth a gleaming white pill shaped like an elongated penis with a lifelike dickhead on the end.

  What the actual fuck?

  “I’m not putting that in my mouth.”

  “Oh Sugar, I wish I had a dollar for every time I thought that very same thing. Now take it. It’ll make you forget your problems and you’ll be hard for hours. You want to be in me for hours, right?” She reached down and cupped his flaccid manhood, toying with it. Shivers danced across his skin and made him break out in goose pimples. He should have risen to the occasion, but stage fright took over again. What if he wasn’t big enough to satisfy the woman he has desired for so long? What if his limp noodle turned out to be an asparagus stalk in her mind?

  “Fine,” he said, and took the pill. He flicked it to the back of his throat, dry swallowed, coughed a few times, and then waited.

  She smiled and leaned forward, letting her breasts sway above his head. He lifted his head to kiss them but she teased him by withdrawing. Then she repeated the performance. The moments ticked away while she cooed and whispered. Teased and cajoled.

  “Isn’t it working yet? Gosh golly. I’m really sorry, Penelope. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you. See, I have been a big fan for a long time. A huge fan. I have so many magazines and pictures. I have signed ones and I even have one you did where your big beautiful breasts were pressed against some blue paint on a panel. That’s one of my favorites.” The Governor rambled as he waited for that dick he’d swallowed to do its thing.

  “Aren’t you the cutest thing?” she asked, and smothered his face for thirty glorious seconds.

  Perry’s breath caught in his throat as his body was suffused with sudden warmth. His world turned shades of red and green, then stabilized.

  He grew stiff as a board, down there where it counted. It felt like he’d suddenly sprouted a giant zucchini, like he had the blue-ribbon prize winner on his hands, or, in this case, in his lap.

  “Houston, we have lift off,” she muttered.

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Wow indeed. What are you packing down there? You must be really hot for me, baby,” she cooed.

  This time he was the one making little cooing noises. He sucked in a breath in case she tried to suffocate him again. What a way to go THAT would have been — smothered by the most amazing boobs in the world. Penelope didn’t cover his face this time, though one of her nipples almost put out his eye.

  “Um.” He said the only thing that came to mind. Came? Yep, he would be doing that again today. Come to think of it, his brain was starting to feel a little funny, prickly, dizzy, like he stood up too fast after shotgunning a milkshake.

  “Put that big ole thing in me, baby, put it right….Good lord, hun, I would never have guessed you were that big. Well surprise, surprise.” She smiled and placed a foil condom wrapper between her teeth, then ripped it open with thumb and forefinger.

  “Urgle gurgle.” He smiled.

  His words slurred, and he felt like his wiener was about to burst. Everything began to dim as his vision blurred. Then the pain hit like a tire iron to the back of the head.

  Perry was going to have the time of his life fucking Pendulous Penelope. Now he had other things on his mind. Two things to be exact: two mammoth tits that he wanted to sink his teeth into. For no good reason at all, he wanted to leave marks that would show for a week.

  “My stars almighty. I haven’t had one that size in ages.”

  “Umprh umrph.” He drooled in response.

  “Yeah sugar, you got that right. Just hold it there for me. Just for a few minutes.” She purred as she ground against him.

  But Perry wasn’t in the mood to hold anything back. Dizzy, out of breath, and trying to get lost in the moment, he groaned as he grew even larger. What was that thing, a baby’s forearm?

  He sank into the cocoon of sudden pleasure even as an ice pick of pain erupted along the back of his neck. Then he shuddered and his body went limp, sans one important place.

  Penelope looked down into his blank eyes just as she was about to have a little explosion of her own, but what she saw made her recoil in horror. His pupils had turned white as milk and his eyelids drooped like he’d had a stroke. Oh fuck-knuckle. That’s just want she needed. A goddamned governor croaking while she fucked him dry.

  She didn’t have to fear for long, though; his lifeless head turned to regard her, his slack face as ashen as her own lily ass in winter.

  “Governor Perry?”

  “Blurgh blurgh!”

  Perry answered by sitting up and snapping off one of her nipples. Then he went for her neck, cementing his teeth around her windpipe. He ripped it out and chewed. She collapsed against him and then flopped across the be
d without a whimper, just a gurgle.

  Governor Perry feasted.

  Later, much later in the night, he came to himself. He stared at the mess in the room. Penelope’s body was a nightmare of wounds. Perry choked back a sob and just made it to the bathroom before spewing a furious fount of bloody vomit into the toilet. The Governor showered and cleaned up the room, then dressed and left in his disguise. He was still bleary eyed and confused and thought that the man at the front desk might have been a giant pork chop. He had the sudden desire to toss the man on a grill, baste him with a vinaigrette, and munch on his fingers. The urge passed while his stomach rumbled.

  “Have a good night, sir,” the desk clerk called, not even bothering to look up from the adult magazine he read.

  “Fuck off,” Perry muttered.

  Confused and alone, the Governor sped away after calling his limo driver for a late-night, no questions asked pickup.

  Later, he slept like the dead.

  A Country for Old Men

  Some days, Congresswoman Littlefield hated her job. She also hated the fact that she was late for work. Now there was a word she hadn’t heard in the two weeks: work. She hated the fact that she actually had better things to do today than to go into work.

  It was a Saturday, for crying out loud. She had an appointment to get her nails done and to enjoy a much-needed spa treatment later in the afternoon. Instead, she was sitting in traffic, waiting for a light to change so she could roll into the Capitol building’s parking garage.

  Since Congress had shut down the government, she had been sitting around, working on a steady diet of high-powered coffee and trashy romance novels. She turned on FOX News from time to time, but all the talk was about the two parties bickering over whose dick was being held improperly.

  The Republican Party (or as she’d taken to calling them, the Grand Old Pussies) wasn’t the party she’d joined fifteen years ago. Not by a long stretch. But here she was, one of them, and she hated it. Not that the Democrats were any better. Neither party cared about what the people really wanted. All her coworkers cared about was getting their asses back into their seats via reelection. They cared about special interest groups and how much lobbyists were going to grease their campaigns in the future.

  Her constituents said she should change parties since she had liberal ideas on things like birth control and legalized marijuana in New Mexico. Too bad there was no way to join any Independent Party and be taken seriously anymore.

  After working her way through security that was tighter than a vaginal contraceptive dipped in superglue, she made it to the Capitol building. On her way through the door, she spotted the Secret Service agent she had a furious crush on, but avoided his gaze. Agent Brad Trent was all business. He didn’t ever check her out. Instead, she got the eye from eighty-year-old men who’d been in office for so long, their asses were chair-shaped.

  At least it was beautiful in the House of Representatives, where she met with her the other representatives. Stately paintings and antique furniture adorned her surroundings, but that still didn’t make her feel like all of the crap was worth it. It certainly wasn’t worth being here on a Saturday after two weeks of sitting around, but the President was insistent that they meet, all of them. It was time to get back to work, and he was already talking concessions.

  Her trouble started when she ran into a closing door and spilled coffee down her sensible white shirt. She stared in horror as the brown stain set in. She hadn’t been at work in two weeks, so she’d already taken her emergency bag out of the car. She’d left it at home so she could refresh the contents; one of those items to be refreshed was a new shirt, for just such an event as the coffee debacle.

  Shit. She couldn’t go in looking like that. She veered into the women’s bathroom and slipped into a stall. She wore a dark grey suit jacket. She slipped the shirt off and tested the buttons of the grey jacket. They held and covered her ample breasts and it wasn’t like she wasn’t wearing a bra. That was good, because the last thing she wanted was some of the old farts staring down their noses into her cleavage.

  This day probably wouldn’t last long, anyway. The President would say what he had to say. The Speaker would counter and they would all go home in a bad mood, and still without a solution.

  She checked herself in the bathroom mirror and made sure the jacket would keep her out of trouble. Her blonde hair hung around her face in a cute bob. The local news had gone nuts for her new haircut and even given her a write-up on one of their Internet rags. They thought she was hot and that didn’t bother her one bit. If men wanted to check her out, let them! So long as she was allowed to present her message and be heard, they could stare at her ass all they wanted.

  Congresswoman Littlefield tossed her shirt in the trashcan and left the bathroom to take her chances.

  She took her seat next to a representative from Vermont. She’d forgotten his name but he was in his seventies and didn’t remember his name either. When he did speak, it wasn’t any less confusing than anything coming from these other old farts.

  The show began with opening statements from both parties. Speaker of the House Boehner oversaw the festivities and seemed grim throughout the Vice President’s rambling speech about holding the American people hostage. She wished she was being held hostage by Agent Moore from her romance novels. He was the male lead that rescued the damsels in distress and managed to seduce them along the way.

  As the leaders of the free world shifted in seats and booed whenever “the other guy” was talking, the door crashed open, and in strolled Governor Perry. He stood at the entrance for a moment. Several congressmen shifted in their seats and either scowled or smiled at the intruder.

  A pair of secret service men rushed in, but when they saw who had crashed the party they settled back to see what would happen.

  One of the men was dark-haired Agent Brad Trent. He resembled the hero from the romance novels she was addicted to. She thought about him rescuing her and taking her to a seedy hotel somewhere, a place long removed from Washington DC where she could forget all this pettiness.

  He approached the Governor and said something, but Perry didn’t respond. What in the hell was wrong with him? She’d met Perry once, and he did the same thing all the other men in her party did: stared at her chest while pretending to read her nametag or whatever folder she might be carrying.

  The Governor from Texas glanced around the room and then his gaze settled on her. She looked around in confusion, hoping he was glaring at someone behind her.

  The Governor lurched into action and stumbled toward her. The Congressman from Montana stood up to greet Perry, but was pushed aside.

  “Hey now, Perry, that’s no way to treat your old pal,” he said. His shocked look was mirrored throughout the assembly.

  Perry stumbled down the aisle until he stood in front of a very confused Congresswoman Littlefield. His face was ashen and his eyes blood shot.

  Jeez, was he drunk?

  She started to get up, thought better of it, and sat back down. She shifted as she looked around for help, but no one rushed to her aid. Strike that; Special Agent Trent was on the job and on his way.

  “Are you okay, Governor?” she asked.

  He stared at her chest. She looked down and realized her hastily constructed coverage was in disarray; the top button had popped loose, revealing a wide expanse of cleavage.

  “Blughb blughb,” he said.

  “Oh for crying out loud!” she exclaimed, and then got a look at something she wished she’d never seen - his crotch. It was expanding like he had a balloon in his pants.

  “Sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step outside. I apologize, Governor, but it’s protocol.” Agent Trent smiled at the congresswoman reassuringly.

  “Blarghb blarghb,” the Governor replied.

  “Drunk idiot,” Agent Trent muttered, firmly placing his hand on the man to escort him out.

  Governor Perry was having none of that and snapped around. He
lost his footing and fell onto the Congressman from Montana. The old man went down, a silver flask flying out of his jacket.

  Congresswoman Littlefield wished she could grab the flask and have a little sip or maybe a few gulps. Perhaps a semi-drunken haze could make this day slip by at a faster pace.

  “What’s going on there? Is that you, Governor Perry?”

  House Speaker Boehner stared from his seat. His voice boomed over the speaker.

  “All rise!” someone yelled, and in strode the President to polite applause, though most eyes were still on the shenanigans taking place in front of Congresswoman Littlefield.

  Everyone rose and hands even helped up the Congressman from Montana. He huffed and puffed as his portly form was righted.

  All shifted attention to the leader of the free world, except for that of one man: Perry. The man swayed on his feet as Agent Trent tried to escort him out of the chamber.

  Then Governor Perry did something crazy. Ridiculous. Insane.

  He lifted his head, tilted his mouth back, and snarled like an enraged beast. He leapt with astonishing speed and ripped out the throat of the Congressman from Montana. There were screams of fear and pain, but they were drowned out as the assembly clapped for the President.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen of the House, we have come together for one purpose, and that purpose is to end this bickering and get back to work. I apologize for the Saturday session and I realize it is not normal for me to be on the floor. This crisis demands that we take action. From the moment I stepped into office . . .” He trailed off.

  Congresswoman Littlefield backed up as the men on the floor fought. Not much of a fight since the older man was spouting blood. Thrashing feet tripped the two agents and soon everyone was in a pile on the floor. Blood sprayed as the Governor attacked one of the agents. Congresswoman Littlefield was relieved to see that it wasn’t Agent Trent. He managed to get up on all fours and back away from the brawl.