Marshmallow Pig

LOOK

Nothing is mandatory for a zombie. Your body always works, no matter how little you try to keep it moving. You can breathe if you want, but nothing's stopping you from holding it so long that you forget how to. Likewise, you don’t actually need to eat. Sure, the idea of a zombie needing fresh brains to survive is popular, but it isn’t true; the electrical jolts of a brain are just a nice kick, nothing more. This is especially true of the heart. Mine hadn’t beat for a long time, it was cold, still, a little dry. But for them I pushed it. I practiced, for a few nights, pumping it slowly at first. Then I tried faster, feeling thick grey ooze from long dead veins slowly slip out of various open gashes from where I'd been a bit clumsy. It felt stupid. I wasn’t supposed to let it beat, I’m dead. But for them I wanted to.

The night had come too fast, when they wandered into my home. Not much more than a location, a nondescript place, but it was mine for wandering in. They came and we didn’t speak. Zombies don’t need to, and most of us chose to forget how. I let them bring us to a corner, gently push me into a wall and look up at me with big, dark eyes. I think some maggots were in one of them.

I guided their hand to my chest, where I put my practice to the test. It was so faint; I worried that they wouldn’t hear my little muscle pumping uselessly in my chest, but they pressed their ear to my chest instead. They closed their eyes and listened. I kept going, it wasn’t that hard after starting, but keeping it from being too shaky was difficult with them so close. They didn’t mind. They didn’t mind the shaking, or my missing pointer finger that had been bothering me, or my molding thigh, or my fading hair. Things that I had noticed, but hadn’t noticed I was paying attention to until I realised that weren’t.

They put their hand -lovely and soft, bloated slightly and with several missing fingernails- against my chest again and pressed until they broke my sternum and their fingers tore through my skin. The wall helped, it was a lot of force. I watched, hoping they were happy, but their face was just one of determination. I felt three ribs crack and two of them punctured my left lung. I didn’t need them, I wasn’t using them. I was using my heart, and I was using it for them. Their fingers pushed through my stomach tract, slightly clumsy in the search, and curled around my heart. I beat it faster for them, my excitement so clear. They pulled, and squeezed, and broke more ribs to pull my heart clear of the rotted veins and ventricles keeping it imprisoned in my chest. Grey ooze pooled at my feet under my new chest wound, so I tried to avoid slipping in it; I didn’t want to look silly in front of them.

They were enamored with my heart. It had stopped beating once it was outside of me, but they seemed content, which made me happy. They ate it slowly, breaking their jaw first so that they wouldn’t damage it more, swallowing in large gulps that echoed about the space. Eventually it was inside of them and they pulled my head in close. I listened, and heard two beats, so close to each other. So in sync. I stared at them while they placed my head back on my shoulders, and couldn’t help but step forward into them. I lifted them up and placed my tongue between their lips. Theirs was missing, so mine had room to explore, and I used it to pull several of their teeth into my own mouth.

The night only started with simple gestures like these, it wasn’t long before we tore chunks from each other with heavy, romantic breaths.

But I'm drawn to you. I want you, and without words you want me back. Welcoming me back to some semblance of feeling. Of course I found my way back to you.

I didn't expect... I'm not sure I'd expected anything in a long time. I didn't know I'd been seeking you till you were taking my hand. Didn't realise you'd held my focus and that more of me has lit up than I remembered could

And then under my hand your chest flutters; and I'm so seized with feeling I've smeared soft cheek flesh against you with the force. Before I've even identified the emotions, curiosity and joy and desire and the concepts ceased to matter the feeling is everything and everywhere.

Your heart beats. Slow. Steady. Just for me. Getting faster, like it can't bear the separation between us and suddenly neither can I. Your skin parts beneath my fingers into tattered lace, caught on delicate ribs. beautiful muscle pulsing under my questing fingertips. I need to get deeper, free this trapped, tender morsel

I meet your eyes, and it feels like hope. You're here with me, every moment.

I try and lick my lips and my jaw hangs slack, drooling as I pluck the beating berry of your heart and let the heavy stub of my tongue slurp and suck and swallow. feel you fill my throat. filled and satisfied, satiated. How had I forgotten what needing felt like. needing and being satisfied.

Too much of my own torso is empty, hollow, I'd not felt it as an absence. what does something missing matter to a zombie? But now the second heart settles into the soft, yielding centre of me and it's right. I feel it, part of me and under my command, as much as any element can be said to be. There's fluids flowing, not quite blood, but more than enough for them to pump, the remnants of mine and the rehydrating jewel of yours. strong and firm in a way my body doesn't remember how to be. So different and now we're one and I need you to know.

The crater was more of a wound, it was a dent sure but I fished the bits of skull out of my brain and tossed them aside, so it was mostly a hole into my head. It was odd, but despite not needing it, I felt bad whenever I leant over and let a little spill out. It’s stuff that was really valuable before I stopped caring, so it felt wrong to just drop it. It did help my posture a little, practicing staying upright so that my brain didn’t spill.

They came around again, and we sat down to start with. They noticed I was avoiding tilting at all, and explored until they found the reason. Their fingers pushed through the rotty membrane that was growing and into my grey matter. Two fingers swirled inside my skull and I looked up into their eye -one had gone missing since I last saw them- with curiosity which seemed to excite them. I hadn’t practiced feeling things, nerves went dead fast and it wasn’t ever something I considered before, but I wanted to feel them inside my head. I wanted to know when their fingers curled around a thick mass of cranial tissue, I wanted to know when they pinched until something popped. I wanted to feel them lovingly stirring about inside my head, or at least to feel myself handing my thoughts to them. I reached up, taking their wrist and pushing it deeper.

One of the sharp edges of the cracks in my skull cut into them, and opened their forearm which spilled dry veins and some flesh into me. I could hear them choosing to breathe deeply, and the sound was intoxicating. They kneeled up, pulling me to an angle and putting their mouth at my ear -where the break started- to slowly tip me into their lips. The heavy slurping of fluid meat slipping between lips above my ear. I groaned, feeling tingling all over where I had accidentally tried to know how it felt to be drank.

They left me that night with their eye, they popped it out and gave it to me. Both of us knew they didn’t really need it, but it was extremely sweet anyways.

it turns out the uploader is in fact the woman in the photo (she's uploaded a few other pictures of herself to other articles) and she ran an extremely web 1.0 site on the topic of bondage

this was apparently a long-standing fantasy of hers and she in fact did an entire video plus accompanying photoshoot about it, which was run in a bondage magazine in the 90s and did in fact take place on an abandoned train track. they committed to the bit hard enough that there's even a shot of the sinister villain looming over her with a big document labeled DEED and a pen

the best part is that according to this page, there were two "villains" involved (the woman's two partners, apparently), and the other one was dressed as a gorilla. sadly there are no images of the gorilla kidnapper because that sounds like. even funnier.

"Daddy better make me choke"