To some people, his acts of masochism may have been considered extreme and were frowned upon. But the truth was; Zombieman didn't give two shits.
Having a lifetime filled with death and fatal injuries can make a person immune to other's opinions. Unfortunately for Zombieman, this lifestyle has also made him immune to touches of an intimate nature.
To put it bluntly, plain whacking off didn't cut it for him. He found his sexual desires were satiated by, fittingly for his character, self harm. And if he were to ever indulge in sexual relations with another person, the thought of them causing the pain turned him on even more. But since that was rarely the case, he had to go about things solo.
Currently, Zombieman sits in a room, alone, in a building that he hasn't bothered to remember the name of. It was a huge building; previously a bank or something. The gang of thugs that he and the other heroes had been called to address were easily taken down.
After making sure the building was clear, the other heroes split, leaving Zombieman to himself. He took one last scan through the building to confirm that he was alone before entering a small room and closing the door. He removed his knife and gun from his pants and set them on a desk.
The plan was to indulge in some relief of sexual tension. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't something he could do easily at home. He lived in a nice, clean apartment in a decent side of the city. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out for getting blood everywhere because of his sick fetish.
He was now sitting on the desk, his shirt and jacket discarded carelessly onto the floor. He's clad in only his boxers and pants, which were pulled down a bit to give him access to his junk. Blood spills over the sides of the desk from his arms. Both arms have fairly deep cuts in them that have set the mood for him.
Zombieman strokes himself slowly as he tries to think of more ways to injure himself. He pulls his pants down to his knees and reaches for his knife. He quickly stabs the knife into his right thigh and a grunt escapes his lips from the pain. He bites back a moan from the sensations, drawing blood from his bottom lip.
As he works on himself, he can feel the tightness in his lower abdomen getting tighter and tighter, just waiting to burst. He's so close.
Swapping his knife for his gun, Zombieman frantically tries to kick the shoe off of his left foot. Once the shoe finally slips off of his foot, he shoots. The pain is intense and his foot is so mutilated that it doesn't even resemble the body part it is supposed to be.
It works, though. Before he even realizes it, Zombieman is letting out a moan as he shoots a load all over the desk, his legs, and the floor.
"Hello? Is...is everything okay in there?" A voice comes from the other side of the door.
Shit! Zombieman thinks as he glances around at his mess. Of course he can't simply have a few minutes to himself. That would be far to easy. His thoughts are halted as he notices the doorknob turn.
"Yeah. Just...testing out a new gun." Who the hell was still in the building? The knob was still turning.
"Everything is fine!" Zombieman assures shakily as he tries to clean himself up, his heart practically beating out of his chest. With his foot all shot to hell, there's no way he can cover this up.
Before he can even manage to cover up his manhood, the door opens and the face looking at him, after realizing the situation, is quite horrified. Between the combination of being half naked, being covered in multiple bodily fluids, and the severity of his injuries, Zombieman is certain he's a sight for sore eyes.
"I'll...just leave you to it then." The door closes and Zombieman is left alone again.
Sighing, he lays back on the desk, trying to bask in what little high is left from his orgasm.
"Ahh, fuck it." He sighs and reaches for his jacket. He pulls out a cigarette and lighter. After lighting the cigarette, he takes a long drag of it and relaxes on the desk once again, waiting for his body to heal.
As for the person who walked in on him, like stated in the beginning of this story; Zombieman doesn't give two shits.
OMG my first Zombieman fic ever. I've literally been wracking my brain on an idea for him and thanks to cutie-cyborg over on tumblr, we formed this idea off of each other's ideas. does that make sense?
and wth, there needs to be more fics out for this guy. he's fricken amazing
anyway, hope you enjoyed this! xoxo