Chapter 3
THREE
Adam
I’m so bored by the time I hear Jen’s key in the keyhole I’ve resorted to doing housework. Jen’s underwear drawer definitely needed sorting, and her panties always make my ass look amazing. I never told her I secretly kept that red thong she thought she lost.
As the door opens, I regretfully slide up my shorts over the leopard print french knickers I borrowed. “Finally! I thought you forgot about me or something.”
Jen stumbles a little and bumps into the doorframe as she enters the bedroom. “I was trying.”
I narrow my eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
“None of your business.” The way she waves her finger in my face suggests she has.
My mouth falls open. “Jen, I’ve been freaking out here all alone and you went out?” Why do I sound like a bored housewife?
She steps close, jabbing the finger into my chest. “Well in case you forgot, you broke up with me. So that makes me not your problem. I mean you not my problem.” She frowns.
It’s hard to stay mad. Jen has always been a really cute drunk. It’s so rare for her to get drunk I forgot how cute. It makes me think of the night we met when she’d had one too many after a bad breakup and she let me take her home. “Aww, but we’re still friends, right?”
“Adam, we haven’t spoken in months. When you broke up with me you literally told me I nagged you too much, and I was no fun anymore.
And then you—” She breaks off and her eyes dart around me to the pile of her underwear I might have knocked onto the floor.
In my defense, I was going to clean it up, I just hadn’t gotten there yet.
Her frown intensifies. “Have you been going through my closet?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Not the whole closet.”
“Oh my god. Adam, that's just creepy. Get out of my room and stop sniffing my panties!”
Yeah, sniffing. Actually, come to think of it, I wish I’d sniffed them.
Jen always smelled and tasted amazing. I can still remember the distinctive taste of her.
I could never understand why she wouldn’t let me eat her out more often.
I back away, hoping she doesn’t check too carefully.
“Sorry. I was bored. It’s been ages and I can’t even have a wank. ”
She rolls her eyes. “Again. Not my problem.”
I kinda hoped the underwear might help my situation, but no. “Jen, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything. I said you could stay here until we figure out what to do. If you’re angling for a handjob, you need to think again.”
“I’m not! I wasn’t—I mean I wouldn’t turn one down—”
“Goodnight, Adam.” She shoves me out the door and closes it in my face.
I let my forehead thunk against the wood. “Come on, Jen, Don’t go to bed. I haven’t seen anyone all day.”
“God, you’re a pain in the ass!” she shouts through the door.
Then there’s silence.
With a sigh, I take myself back to the sofa and browse porn for another fruitless ten minutes. When I hear soft snores through the bedroom door I get up and softly push it ajar.
Jen is stretched out on her back with her arms spread out wide across the mattress and her lips slightly parted. She looks soft and sweet like that. Less angry.
She still has her shoes on.
Creeping to the side of the bed, I gently remove the sneakers and tuck them into the closet.
I didn’t mean to be a pain in her ass. I just didn’t know who else to call.
Turns out my friends are all good for a good time, but when I actually need them they all disappear faster than a street racer catching a glimpse of flashing blue lights.
Not that I’d trust any of them with the truth about what happened to me. Jen though? Jen’s trustworthy. Reliable. When she makes a promise, she keeps it. I know she won’t let me down. And even though she might be mad now, she'll forgive me. She’s got a soft heart under all the bitching.
Her underwear is still in a pile on the floor. Stooping, I pick them up and shove them back in the drawer where I found them. I’m keeping the pair I have on, though; they feel amazing.
I turn just as she rolls to her side, bringing her knees up to her chest. She looks almost vulnerable like that.
I sneak to the bedside and pull the blanket over her then creep out of the room again.
I wish I could just curl up behind her and hold her.
It was nice having someone to come home to when we used to live together.
Sometimes when I’m feeling particularly down, I kinda wish I hadn’t broken up with her at all. Things never work out for me the way I hope they will. The breakup definitely hasn’t.
No point going back to the sofa bed. I’ve tried so many times since the accident, but sleep won’t come. I’ve given up.
Instead I go to the bathroom and stand under the shower with my forehead pressed against the tiles until the hot water runs out. It’s nice to feel warm again. I’m starting to forget how it feels to feel normal. I hate that.
I wipe a hand across the mirror with a squeak and stare at my reflection.
My tan is gone, replaced by a sickly gray color and dark circles beneath my eyes.
I look like I’ve been on a three-week bender.
I lift my arm and squeeze the muscles, trying to tell if I’ve lost definition too.
I mean, of course I have. I haven’t been to the gym in over a week.
Fuck. I can’t even eat. How am I supposed to keep my protein up?
Pretty soon I’ll just be some dumb, ugly, college drop-out nobody. At least when I was hot, people wanted me.
I mean I know my personality doesn’t have much going for it, but I’ve always made up for that by having a big dick. Now even that doesn’t even work anymore.
I turn away from the mirror and flop onto the sofa with Jen’s laptop.
I get a little lost down a rabbit hole of beauty products promising to restore my skin tone.
Apparently now that I’m dead I need to be moisturizing with collagen or some shit.
I wonder if Jen has some of this magical moisturizer.
Her skin always looks so good. So perfectly smooth.
I raid the bathroom again wondering if I missed something earlier, but all I can find is a moisturizing mask and a tub of heel balm for dry heels.
I put the mask on my face and return to the laptop.
I’m about to order a jar of this expensive moisturizer when I notice the items in Jen’s cart at the side of the screen and have to do a double take.
The hugest, pinkest, most terrifying dildo I’ve ever seen looks back at me unfazed, and my mouth waters.
It’s got sort of spines in the shape of water drops gracefully dripping down from the tip and a wicked curve. At the base it widens into a knot the size of my fist before flaring to a suction cup.
Fuck. That’s hot. An image of Jen bouncing on that dildo and riding it to an earth-shattering orgasm pops into my mind, and suddenly there’s a very large bulge in the leopard print underwear.
Oh shit. I’m back!
I grab myself and start stroking before I lose the erection again.
Then I quickly type into the search bar.
A moment later a video of a petite blonde woman taking it from behind starts, and she’s moaning and the guy is pounding into her.
I’m frantically stroking my dick, but it’s no good.
I’m soft again in less than a minute, and I let out a groan of frustration.
I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t wank.
I may as well be…I fucking am dead.
Not for the first time I curse the witch who did this to me.
Despondently, I open up a new search and type in ‘how to cure a curse from a witch’ and then when that doesn’t work ‘help, I’m a zombie’.
It takes me ages, but I finally stumble across a website that looks like the person who wrote it might actually know what they’re talking about.
So You Think You’re Dead
Noticed some changes lately and not sure what it means? You might be a zombie. Here’s how to tell…
I read through the list, and it’s like someone has been watching me and noting down everything—even the things I didn’t realize until I read them. Having trouble sleeping—check. Skin turned gray—yes. Feeling numb and sluggish for no reason. That’s me.
You might have lost your appetite or noticed strange cravings you can’t explain.
Don’t worry. This is all a normal part of zombification.
The best thing to do is lean into it. So you can’t sleep.
You have all that extra time. Think of all the study or exercise you could do!
Listen to your body and the way it’s changing.
If you’re craving something, that’s your body telling you what you need.
Remember to source your brains ethically, but don’t be ashamed.
These cravings are perfectly natural, and any local butcher should be able to help you.
And finally, you’re not alone. Your local chapter of Friends Of The Dead is here to help. Reach out to us any time day or night and one of our helpful volunteers is here to talk to you. Remember, dead is just a state of mind!
Brains? I brush that aside and read over the last part again. Maybe I’m not alone. Maybe there are other people going through this too.
I dial the number, and while I’m waiting on hold, I go back to Jen’s cart and hit buy it now. She’ll be mad when she finds out, but I know she won’t buy it for herself. She was always too much of a tight ass to spend money on frivolous things, even though she could afford to.