Berti Walker, you dirty bird. Dirty Berti. I’ll be honest, this book is wrong on a lot of levels, but Berti’s delivery is pretty hilarious. I wasn’t quite sure where she would take me on this little trip, but by the end she had me laughing out loud (literally). I wasn’t all that thrilled at the thought of zombie erotica (or lets be frank – necrophilia) but as I read through the piece, I found it to be more of a social commentary, heavily laced with satire. I could tell Berti was having fun, and probably at my expense. She was fucking with me.
Fuckin’ Berti. Bravo.
Anyway, lets roll that beautiful bean footage!
You can read it for free with Kindle Unlimited right here.
And now for a bit of a sample! WARNING. It’s pretty messed up.
“He drove to the hardware store. The glass door had been busted open, just like all the shops in town that did not have someone working them. As he wandered the aisles, he heard the telltale sounds of a zombie shuffle. Just to be sure, he shouted out, “Hello? Anyone there?”
This caused the shuffle to head his way, but no response. It was a very slow shuffle. He decided to meet it in the middle. His fuck stick was already hard in anticipation.
When he rounded the corner, there she was. His high school teacher, Mrs. Felding. She was an octogenarian zombie, but his prick didn’t care. She was also pretty close to mummified. How the hell did that happen? He didn’t know, didn’t care.
She shuffled towards him. He shoved her to the ground and undid his belt, using it to bind her arms behind her, but yanking on them caused an unfortunate thing to happen. They came off.
“Shit,” he said, tossing them aside. “My bad, Mrs. Felding.”
She rolled over and snapped at him, and that’s when he noticed she had no teeth. A little pre-cum dripped out of his pee hole and wetted the front of his tighty whiteys in excitement. He dropped his drawers and freed the beast. Then he climbed on top of her and did her right in the mouth. Zombie gummers might be the best thing ever. No gag reflex, all tight hole. Just when he was about to bust a nut, tight hole gave him another idea.
He pulled his dick out of her mouth and flipped her over, wrestling to pull off her pants. They came up to her fucking titties like she was Steve Urkel, so he grabbed a garden sheer off the nearby shelf and cut them free. Then he held his peter by the base and guided it into her little raisin of a sphincter. He’d never done butt stuff before. God this was awesome.
He fucked her right there on the hardware store floor. He fucked her until her butt fell out.
And then it wasn’t awesome anymore.”
Berti Walker has been shedding her soul into her writing since 2013 and lives with her husband and son in a place that is ridden with angry corpses, decaying with age as they bake in the sun and lust after the flesh of the young, while drinking screw drivers with alligators. The place she resides juts into the Atlantic like a giant phallus, with the waters of the Everglades running through its veins. Some of you might recognize this as Florida.
Berti is a lady of the night when it comes to slinking into shadowy corners and sliding into shaded alleys, rife with the dark souls that she encounters within the limits of her exquisite imagination. She has been known to copulate with beasts of horror, noble and dark fantasy, mysterious alien beings of sci fi, and the escaped psychiatric patients of Bizzaro. More often than not, she degenerates into an orgiastic, flesh-slapping combination of all of those, rolled into one goddamn amazing piece of work.