Chapter Four: Psylocke

Psylocke rubbed at her temple, trying to sooth the pounding migraine she’d had since her spontaneous arrival in the dead city. She took out her persistent head pain on the shambling husks of stinking meat intent on biting and fucking her. It was obvious the walking corpses had been real people once. She felt pangs of regret with each one she was forced to slice her katana through, wishing she had some means of dealing with the situation that didn’t involve murdering countless fathers, mothers, even children. She tried to console herself with the near certainty that whatever had been done to the people could not be reversed – that bringing them a swift death was some kind of mercy – but she couldn’t ignore the fact that the more of them she skilled, the worse her head hurt.

Shoving the tip of her bloodstained blade through the eye of a former school teacher, Psylocke winced as a fresh spark of agony shot through her own head. The throb came from just behind her eye, the same eye she’d just stabbed through on the zombie. It was far too specific to be coincidence. Kicking the twitching carcass to the ground, the mutant woman sheathed her weapon and darted for a nearby convenience store. The front window was smashed in, but the shop looked devoid of undead activity. Hopping inside, she headed towards the rear of the store, snagging a bottle of water from one of the dead fridges along the way. She twisted the cap off and tossed it aside, bringing the bottle to her lips and chugging half of it down in several large gulps.

Psylocke was thankful that the little office in the back of shop was empty. She pulled the door closed behind her and circled around the desk, flopping into the seat behind it. She sucked down most of the rest of the water before dumping the last of it over her head. Even at room temperature, the water felt refreshing against her flushed skin. She took a breath, whimpering slightly as the pain in her head spiked briefly before softening. Without the ravenous undead clawing at her every step of the way, she could take a moment to analyze exactly why she was in so much pain. Closing her eyes, she focused through the pain and stretched her psychic muscles.

The pain worsened again, but Psylocke was left with no doubts as to where it was coming from. It had nothing to do with anything physically wrong with her. The residents of the city were truly dead, but each and every one of them screamed out on the psychic plane. Fragments of their former selves remained, trapped in an eternal suffering the likes of which she’d never thought possible. Those same fragments were still connected on some level to their physical forms. Each time she’d killed one the pain had been transferred to the psyches and then doubled back onto her.

With the source of her problem revealed, Psylocke breathed a sigh of relief. She could close herself off from the psychic plane and greatly reduce, if not altogether remove, the pain pounding away in her head. Taking a few more deep breaths, the mutant woman closed her eyes and put herself into a meditative trance, slowly and carefully shutting down her abilities. Once the migraine subsided, she could focus on figuring out who or what had teleported her into the city. The tenseness in her muscles faded as she drifted deeper into the trance, feeling the screaming voices of the millions of dead fading away. As they did, she sensed something else that caused her stomach to churn uneasily. Before she could re-think her decision, Psylocke decided to give it a mental prodding.

A single, miniscule prod was all it took to seal Psylocke’s fate. Her eyes snapped open, teeth grinding together as she screamed through them. Her body shuddered within the office chair as the full force of the malevolent entity responsible for the city’s death and her unwanted teleportation crashed down on her, punishing her severely for her brash actions. Her arms flopped as she shuddered in the seat, eyes rolling back and drool spraying through her teeth. The Omni ripped the mutant woman’s consciousness out, absorbing it, digesting it, and shoving it back into her as a corrupted, tangled mess. Psylocke sucked in a deep gasp, flinging herself forward and clutching at the desk as she was released from the terrible grip of the consciousness.

Psylocke lay slumped over the desk, eyes staring blankly as her mind reset. The Omni hadn’t stolen her life, like it had to the rest of the Necropolis, but it might as well have. Her eyelids drifted closed and then opened, suddenly seeing the world in a whole new light. She pushed herself up, looking around the office with a dull, vacant expression on her face. Gradually, she felt more and more like herself, but she could not recall where she was or why she was there. Psylocke stumbled out of the office and out into the wrecked convenience store. She grabbed a Twinkie on her way towards the exit, ripping open the wrapper and shoving half of it into her mouth. “Sorry, sir,” she muttered to the shop owner she saw through her clouded vision. “I can’t pay for it right now, but I swear, I’ll come back later.” The man simply nodded and gave her a friendly wave. Sometimes it paid to be a superhero.

Chewing through the tasty, sugar-filled pastry, Psylocke returned to the ruined streets of the Necropolis. It was a beautiful day, at least through her eyes. She couldn’t recall which town she was in, but the people all looked so happy, strolling up and down the streets with smiles on their faces and skips in their step. Psylocke shared their smile, starting down the sidewalk as she enjoyed her snack. She rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks, eyes going wide and mouth gaping open. A small bit of gooey, half-chewed Twinkie rolled over her lip, the sticky cream feeling clinging to the inside of one of her large breasts.

“Scott?” she gasped, her corrupted vision transforming the broad-shouldered zombie into the man she’d not-so-secretly desired for years. The undead young man had been on the verge of a full ride football scholarship just before the Omni chose to murder his world. Aside from his stereotypical, hunky good looks, he didn’t look much like Scott Summers, but Psylocke’s brain ignored the differences, and the rot of his flesh. Her loins tingled with the same irresistible desire the zombies felt and before she knew it, she’d dropped the half-eaten Twinkie and darted up to the undead quarterback. She draped her arms against his shoulders, sparkling eyes looking up at him with open lust. “I can’t look away any longer,” she told him. “I don’t care about Jean or all the reasons we can’t be together. I want you, Scott.” She reached down and grabbed hold of his crotch, laughing as she felt him already hard and ready for her. “And I know you want me.”

Psylocke winced and whimpered as a spark of pain wiggled through her head. The world briefly shifted back to reality in her eyes, but in an instant, it returned to her version of normal. Her arousal spiked and she shoved her head forward, locking lips with Scott and swirling her tongue into his mouth. The corruption of her psyche masked the putrid taste of the undead man’s mouth from her. She gave no thought to the fact that they were standing out on a public street as she pulled him over against the wall of the nearest building. Breaking the kiss, Psylocke ripped open Scott’s shirt and leaned in to kiss and lick across his chest. She nipped her teeth against his nipples, grinning as she heard him groan in response. Stepping back, the dazed mutant woman squirmed her hands up into the sleeveless, skin-tight outfit she wore and up to her neck, pushing it down to reveal her perfect breasts to him. She cupped the hefty weight of the large mounds of flesh and jiggled them for his appreciation, laughing as she caught the fixed, almost hungry gaze he leveled on her chest.

“Don’t be shy,” she purred, moving closer and hooking a hand behind Scott’s head. She guided him down to her chest and moaned as he slurped at one of her nipples, drawing it to stiff attention. She rubbed harder at his crotch, tracing her fingers along the rigid length of his erection and pleasantly amazed by just how thick it was. Shoving her hand down the front of his pants, she gripped his girth and pumped along his length as he suckled at her breast. Psylocke cried out, the crotch of her uniform soaking through with her juices as Scott’s teeth dug into the tender meat of her tit. A thigh-quaking orgasm ripped through her as he bit down harder, ripping away a nice chunk of her soft meat.

Blood and chunks of fat dribbled from the bite wound, but Psylocke took no notice. Her lust demanded further satisfaction. She pulled Scott’s erection free of his pants and dropped to her knees before him, slurping him into her mouth and bobbing her head rapidly along his length. The stench of his rotting prick filled her nostrils and inspired her to rub at her pussy through the crotch of her uniform. She squeezed her bitten breast, fingering at the wound as her cheeks hollowed inwards, sucking hard on Scott’s erection until she had him on the cusp of release. Popping her lips free, she pulled him down to the sidewalk with her, shoving him onto his back and tugging aside the crotch of her uniform as she climbed on top of him. Holding his dick steady, Psylocke squatted onto him, crying out as his hard, cold meat filled her hot, wet slit.

Psylocke rode Scott hard and fast. Her plump tits jumped and jiggled, flinging droplets of blood and lumpy bits of fat onto the zombie quarterback’s chest and face. The dead man stared up at the exotic beauty bouncing on his cock with milky-eyed awe. His cock twitched within her, squirting watery seed into her clenching pussy, but remained hard. He reached up to paw at her rippling tit flesh, shifting his hips as best he could to meet her downward plunges. The young dead man let out an annoyed growl as he spotted a couple other zombies moving in on the gorgeous sex goddess pleasuring him, but he could do nothing to stop them.

Psylocke let out a shocked gasp followed by a playful giggle as she looked to either side of her at the new arrivals. “Logan,” she purred. “Bobby. I guess you want a piece, too, huh?” She didn’t hesitate to pull their erections out and started to jerk them off. She kept up the speed of her bouncing, leaning from one side and then the other to suck the two men off. Sweat poured out of her, both from the exertion of the spirited sex as well as the infectious bite her lover had given her. The pain returned as the plague of the undead ravaged her from within, shutting down her organs and rebooting them with a darker purpose. She cringed as the pain worsened, but fought back against it by grinding her snatch against Scott’s crotch. Sucking Logan’s cock fully down her throat, she dropped her free hand down to her crotch, wiggling her fingers against her aching clit.

As the infection spread, it proved to be the only thing capable of shaking away the psychic corruption the Omni had caused. She was in the midst of chugging down Logan’s icy cum as she blinked and her vision cleared. The pungent stench of decay assaulted her and her mind recoiled in horror as she realized where she was and what she was doing. The realization was short lived and ultimately pointless as it came in the last moment of Psylocke’s life. Her body slumped lifelessly on top of the zombie quarterback, head pressed against the crotch of the one fucking her face as the light blinked out of her eyes.

Roughly thirty seconds after she died, Psylocke released a choked groan as unholy animation took control of her. Her milky eyes shifted unsteadily for a few moments before her head pulled back. She sat on top of the undead football player for a few moments, adjusting to her new role and then resumed her spirited bouncing. A ravenous hunger grew in her churning belly. Soon, she would join the rest of the Necropolis’s population in their unending search for fresh meat. But in the meantime, she was perfectly content to continue fucking. Psylocke let out a pleased growl as one of the other zombies crouched behind her and poked his cock against her puckered sphincter.