Cum for the Chills, Get the Thrills

Someone or something urged her onward, and the floor was surprisingly smooth beneath her feet as she took each step. She had no idea how the fuck long she fought to get the hell out of the lightbox that was this room, and when she tried calling Donna's name it was like the sound got swallowed up.

There was a firm but polite shove at her back, and something popped, causing the lights to finally dim. A shape emerged ahead of her, and Betsy lurched for it.

She felt a hand, covered entirely in a cool, plastic surface, close upon her wrist.

Donna, meanwhile, had been shocked at the sudden transition of darkness to extremely bright light and closed her eyes reflexively, stepping forward and causing the door to shut behind her. Betsy gave a cry and jolted from her side, and then everything fell dark. Donna opened her eyes. She was somehow alone, and the lights were gone. Turning a tight circle in place, the astonished horror fanatic could not tell where the fuck her friend had gone.

All around her was this... 'woodsy' scene. Like small, choked indoor forest? 'Trees' created a boxy space around her, more or less camouflaging the walls. Above, the ceiling had been painted dark, and lights installed to look like stars. There was no moon. The prickles above offered no significant light to see by, but ahead there was a structure. As Donna approached, gritting her teeth, she held the glowstick up. Bathed in neon green there appeared to be a derelict porch of some kind, and further, a looming building.

"Pretty sophisticated for an indoor haunted house," she muttered. Once more searching for Betsy, Donna paused. There was no one, like the short-skirted Cinderella had just been dropped through a trapdoor.

It was no use searching for her. The haunt pressed her on, and she moved toward the ramshackle "cabin".

Somewhere, in the fake trees, ambient noise began to play. Groaning, it sounded like. Dragging noises. Footsteps.

Not bad, Donna thought. That almost sounds real. She walked into a began to examine the 'cabin'. It was laid out like a bunker, like some post-apocalyptic survival flick. Boarded up windows and everything.

Three minutes passed outside.

When Riley and Artie made it through the hall, it was Artie who opened the door, pulling it open to step through. He and Riley weren't greeted with light, but with a wooden sign-post, pointing in different potential directions. Camp Mirror Pond. Chuckles' Fun House. Manor of Lost Souls. The DMV.

"Most terrifying haunted house of all time," Artie cracked, pointing to the "DMV" sign. "What's scarier than bureaucracy? They're already stiffs!"

Riley snorted in response.

"I guess we can choose which parts to visit? Wanna do one together, or try different ones and meet back up?"

"Oh I am definitely going to the Fun House," the 'punny' one said. "That means clowns! Haunted houses always gotta do scary clowns."

"Okay, then I'm checking out the Lost Souls thing. Meet back up here after?"

"Yeah!" The roomies high-fived and split off, heading toward their own desires.

In a blink, it felt like, Artie found himself standing before a magnificent carnival-style façade of painted wood, the door decorated to look exactly like walking into the mouth of a giant "Kilroy"-esque clown. It even had moving teeth slowly clamping up from the bottom and down from the top. Grinning, he timed himself to jump through. Just as the teeth clacked as closed as they could and began to open again, he ducked his head through and jumped over the flat, particle-board leer. On the other side, a big, grotesque and somehow sticky tongue caught his landing and he laughed. It was slimy and gross and so tactile that it was brilliant.

Pushing himself off, he spotted a corridor to his left, and down it stretched several of those wavy mirrors so prevalent in carnival fun houses. Clearly this was the way to go.

As Mourning Wood passed down the hall, colorful faces in motley stripes and zany patterns began to appear behind him, accompanied by the comical squeak of their rubber chickens and horns. Whenever Artie turned to look behind him, they ducked into secret hiding-places.

He still got a little freaked out, and hurried by the mirrors showing his image distorted in so many bizarre ways.

Riley's choice of path took them to an artificial graveyard, and a magnificently constructed, vaguely Victorian 'estate' house; somehow, within another house?! Or maybe, the edifice back where they entered was just temporarily structured to block a larger expanse of constructs, like this handsome manor. Yeah, that made sense. Riley held up their glowing light source and ventured the pathway between gravestones, some emblazoned with comical names like "Ima Goner" and similar schlock. Some were bare or 'faded', which Riley thought was a nice touch, being an artsy sort with an eye for details themself.

A pervasive chill chased the obscurely dressed historical aficionado into the manor, and Riley could even see their breath. Mist crept in around their feet as they walked into a sitting room, the furniture all shrouded in dusty sheets.

Something caressed their back, and Riley felt their spine stiffen as icy fingers danced up it.

After the others had disappeared into the haunt, Mandie and Todd finally got their shot, and they too walked the dark corridor and opened a door. The door slid open, with not a small bit of effort, and they walked through. The darkness remained with them even as the door closed.

Moving forward, they could hear their steps crunching, and the ground felt uneven. Mandie clutched her boyfriend tight.

"Where do you think the others are?" She whispered, unwilling to let him go for a second.

"Don't know, but let's try to stay together. I don't want you getting hurt." Even though he couldn't see it, he knew she would blush. It might be a little suffocating sometimes, always being "the couple" of the crew, but he did love Mandie. Even if maybe they needed to ease up on the PDA and stuff.

"Aww, babe." Mandie pressed tighter to his side. At this point they'd been together so long they were practically married, and she was just a little afraid to let go, as if she didn't know who she'd be without a boyfriend.

They ventured further, eyes adjusting to the dim light, and it became obvious to them both they were walking through an outdoorsy landscape. Lots of shrubbery, grassy turf, some trees. No buildings of any kind in sight, and they were not truly sure if they were indoors or out.

Somewhere not far enough away, a howl split the air.

Donna stopped to examine the details of the room she found herself in. Besides the door she'd come through, any other entrance or window was blocked off with wood planks and furniture, barricaded. The place looked to have been chaotically but artfully trashed in a skirmish. There were even what appeared to be prop weapons lying around- spent shell casings and everything. Some of the 'firearms' were lined up in pristine condition, and some looked like they'd been dropped mid-use. Papers and litter were everywhere. There was even a fireplace with a burnt-out pile of ash and charred wood and what looked to be the remains of a spitted squirrel over it.

"What fucking detail," Donna praised in awe.

But there were still no actors- and her disappointment was rising up. There were supposed to be scares here. Where were the scares?

Something crashed outside, and that made her jump. Well, fucking finally. Staying quiet and keeping low, Donna edge forward to peer out the doorway. The glowstick went stuffed and smothered into the striped sweater hanging off her frame. She could see movement, and her heart began to pound. Adrenaline picked up and she waited to find out what sorts of visitors would come a-knocking.

The sounds of feet and slow movement were coming closer, and Donna wasn't sure if she was meant to try and evade whatever was coming. It seemed logical, so she watched just a few minutes at the door, until something shambled into a clearer spot. A lurching, unsteady figure, accompanied by a low moan. The horror buff grinned.

More figures seemed to be coming, and she turned back into the room, searching for the pathway through the maze. Places like this always kept you moving in choice directions. It looked like there were two ways to go- staying on the lower level and heading into a gore-splattered dining/kitchen area, or up a staircase. A quick duck into the ground-floor rooms proved to be all dead ends, but the scenery was fantastically chilling. A "corpse" lay slumped against the wall, a spray of blood behind it, a gun in the lifeless hand on the floor. As though whatever was out there was too much to face any longer.

Donna turned toward the staircase. Nothing had some through the door yet.

She ascended the stairs.

A nasty-looking bathroom was the first thing to be found up there, with sludgy-looking buckets and the battered tub, toilet and sink stained, grimy. Either side from there split into bedrooms, and one revealed a grim message on the wall- "NO WAY OUT" as if written in blood. The adjacent wall read "WE WILL ALL BE EATEN" on another. Donna grinned. Sort of confirmed her zombie suspicions.

So the game here was to avoid the horde? Good thing she did her cardio.

Peering out the windows on either side of this (staggeringly well-constructed) fake house, Donna spotted her means of escape. Some kind of fireman's ladder was hanging out the right bedroom's only window. So, it made the most sense to hide out and watch from there.

Movement downstairs, and she could hear the figures upsetting things, groaning and hissing. So fucking realistic! Her heart pounded wildly, but she was alive, chasing the thrill, enjoying the fuck out of every minute.

A chorus of moans sounded, floating up the stairs, and it was then Donna began to notice something... unusual. The voices downstairs didn't sound just generically gruff and mindless. They were almost musical, almost pleasing... and none of them sounded distinctly male.

Weird. Shrugging, she hunched under the window, obscured from plain view next to a busted up side table. The woman listened intently to the sounds coming from below. Grunts and vocalizations were growing louder, perhaps beginning to move up the stairs, but so far, she was safe.

Until she heard the floor in the doorway creak.

Startled, Donna stifled a gasp, and she remained perfectly still. Someone was standing in the entrance of the room, but she hadn't heard anyone climb the stairs- they must've been somewhere on the second floor. She didn't dare draw out the glowstick to get a better look, but peered through the dark, making out a shorter figure, more rounded than she expected- holy shit, a woman. Possibly Betsy?

A flash from outside suddenly lit up the room like lightning, and Donna nearly jumped out of her skin. A thunderous grinding followed it, and in the flickering white light she saw the chick in greater detail. Not Betsy at all. The 'woman' in the doorway was dressed like a tattered cheerleader who'd been dragged by a car and also eaten the brains out of some poor schlub's head, because her mouth was covered in blood and flecks of entrails. She grinned manically, horribly... Lit up for just a few seconds, but enough to paint a picture.

An unearthly giggle emerged from the zombie (or 'zombimbo' as Donna was now thinking of her) and she took a few lurching steps forward. The hidden woman got ready to spring into action, especially when she heard a distinctive sniffing, as if her visitor could scent her human presence. That was a hell of touch on the actress' part for sure.

The zombie cheerleader cut off escape back down the stairs, and Donna could hear more finally coming up. It was now or never. She leapt to her feet and moved- grabbing the windowsill and preparing to hurtle downward to safety. Another giggle. The zombie jumped into action, getting Donna to gasp and curse out loud as she stuck a foot out the window. Most of her was out and about to scramble when two delicate hands closed around her other foot with surprising strength.

The zombimbo cackled with glee as she hauled her squirming, spitting prize back into the room and on the floor. Donna's first instinct was to fight her off, but she'd signed on not to harm the staff or other patrons while enjoying the attraction. She would just have to break free harmlessly and bug out.

"Fuck!" Donna hissed, trying to wrench herself out of the assailant's grip. More light flashed in. The messy high pigtails hung over the woman's face as undead cheerleader smiled vacantly down and pinned her to the ground. Others were starting to crowd in, and as the room lit with strobed "lightning" accompanied by thunder sound effects, the trapped horror fan noticed something that made her freeze in surprise.

All the zombies filling up the room were female. Moreover, despite their impressive makeup and prosthetics, they were all, really really hot. Suddenly Donna was having trouble processing and escaping from this situation for completely different reasons.

Still.

This was the last fucking chance to get away, so she had to make a break for it. Twisting herself viciously to get free, Donna broke the cheerleader's grip and fought her way to her knees. Once her feet were under her again she made for the window, but this time the slow-to-fast roomful of undead babes were on her twice as hard as before. Her startled shriek was cut off as several pairs of hands touched her everywhere and effortlessly cooperated to move her weight.

"Hey!" She called out as her ass was grabbed. "Is that really this kind of place? C'mon now! How did you even know..." Wow, these actresses were strong! They hauled her body over to the rumpled, bare bed that stood in the room and threw her on it. For a minute, Donna's mind scrambled, her senses panicked. How was she supposed to escape this room? Wasn't this essentially a failure?

But they didn't stop.

They weren't exactly attacking, either. Considering the waiver, she'd expected to be smacked around, shoved, screamed at- anything like that. Instead, the zombies- about a dozen or so (seemingly more appearing with every second)- were just touching her everywhere. It was starting to become deeply uncomfortable, especially since there was a lot of sinister giggling yet a lot of cooing too, like these brainless undead flesh-hungry monsters were somehow enjoying themselves...?

A tearing noise shocked her back to the moment, and Donna felt airflow under her sweater. The glowstick spilled out and fell onto the bed, casting some in eerie light and others in shadow. Everywhere she looked were pairs of breasts, and all of them really... bouncy and full... all of the girls in here twentyish, mostly blondes; cute too. Or would be super fucking cute if their intestines weren't spilling out of sensible blouses or from under a crop top. Damn, why were all these zombies so hot?

Clothes began tearing more forcefully, and that got the horror fan really agitated.

"I worked hard on this costume, fuck! I did not read anything in the waiver about damaging my shit!"

Her cries and struggles fell on deaf ears, and they continued to tear. Her sweater shredded, followed by undershirt and sports bra keeping her own modest tits under control. The pants were shucked, and the boxer—briefs tugged away.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Donna shouted, really pulling at her captors now. Her arms and legs were all held down and pulled apart. "This can't be fucking right!"

The moans grew louder, more insistent and hungry. Oh shit, this must be the part where she got torn apart and eaten, but did she really have to be naked? And how did they even know to send hot women? Her sexuality wasn't something this haunted house needed to know about or manipulate, yet there she was.

A warm mouth closed down on her breast.

Donna gasped. What. The. Fuck? It wasn't a bite- no, a bite might've been more logical. Expected. This... this was a distinct, incredible, weird sucking. A zombie was sucking her tit, and another one started immediately after. Helpless, the woman moaned. Her trim body was nude except for her shoes, and her hips bucked upward as she panted. That was nothing though, because soon after her nipples became utterly fascinating for the zombimbos that were fondling and sucking them, at least three mouths crammed between her thighs and started tonguing everything they could reach between.

That was it. There was no dignity after that. "Immersive" haunted house or not, Donna was pretty sure this couldn't be legal, but she was not able to complain. Hands and mouths were all over, hurtling her toward a disturbingly violent orgasm, and furthermore somebody's juicy little cunt (walking dead pussy) sat down on her face. There was an uncountable number of tongues stuffed in her slit, and besides the mouths on her breasts there were at least two more teasing her clit.

All sense was gone, and Donna reacted the way she would with any one of her lovers before. She began licking up that dripping sheath. Plunged her tongue in the twitching hole, sucked and nibbled the clit... riding the split of labia with her face as the zombie rocked back and forth above her.

Her first orgasm hit just as the one she feasted on gave a gurgling cry and soaked her face in fragrant cream. Even if they were fresh out of the grave, her pussy smelled fantastic and tasted intoxicating. Donna groaned blissfully as she contracted and pulsed, swimming in the hazy delight of climax but still really bewildered as to what was going on here. Hell, a good orgasm was a good orgasm, but this really couldn't go on any further, right?

She thought they'd let her up. That she'd be released, set back outside to wait for her friends and wonder truly what had gone on inside the attraction this night.

She was wrong.

Donna felt her orgasm spend itself and send her into oversensitivity, but nothing stopped. The cunt on her face lifted but was replace immediately by another, and its owner pressed insistently downward. She was not freed. She was not given the chance to cool down after climax. Hell no- the devouring continued, and as Donna lost herself on a tide of too much stimulation from too many hands and mouths over her entire body, she pondered.

This was not the kind of "eaten" she thought she'd be, and the words on the wall suddenly carried a different meaning.

Did... did the zombimbos write them? Was that dead guy downstairs proof positive that women knew how to eat pussy better than men?

When had she stopped believing this was just a haunted house attraction?

As she nipped, licked, and suckled another cunt to climax, having another (and another and another) worked out of her flesh, Donna remembered something. They wouldn't stop until she screamed. Nothing was gonna stop until she screamed...

The relentless tide of zombie babes never let up. She ate cunt until her tongue was sore, and they just kept coming, riding her face, taking their pleasure as orgasms were demanded from her body at the same time. Donna lost count of how many times she'd cum, swallowing a rush of thick dew from some other undead pussy each time; soon she was quivering a boneless, utter putty in their hands, and they kept demanding more. Soon, she wasn't even just subjected to the oral fixation of her zombie horde- no, they started pressing fists into the snug depths of the living cunt they had captured. The extra stimulation was enough to make a woman senseless.

Stroke after stroke, plunge after plunge, the undead all-female flesh feast carried on without a single sign of slowing.