Fan Fiction Friday: The Men of The Walking Dead in “Southern Hospitality”

Raise your hand if, when you think of unspeakable erotic delight, you think of Michael Rooker playing racist redneck Merle from the first season of Walking Dead.

?Anyone? Anyone? No? Just this week’s author Gym Class Hero, then? Well. Let’s just assume my commentary has spoilers for season 2 of The Walking Dead — if you’re still waiting to see it, you might want to give it a pass — or if, you know, you don’t want to read about a Merle-centric orgy. Everyone else, hit the jump.

Rick goes first. He doesn’t seem like he enjoys it too much, a stoic
expression as he thrusts shallowly. Perhaps he comes to these things
simply for release. Merle figures that Lori’s under a lot of stress
right now and their sex life probably isn’t great.

I was about to say it’s because Lori’s a horrible, crazy bitch, but in my experience crazy in regular life often means crazy in bed, which would imply Rick’s sex life is dandy, while the rest of his life sucks. I’m betting the problem is that whenever Rick starts to slip it to Lori, Carl fucking pops out of nowhere with Rick’s stupid hat on.

Rick seems lost,
careless, it hurts for Merle sometimes and he’s fairly sure that his
protests fall on deaf ears – Rick’s lost in his own world. Either way,
Merle doesn’t give a shit. He’s here to get fucked and that’s all that
matters, he doesn’t see the group in the same way his little brother’s
always telling him.

He sees it less as a band of survivors and more a group of penises.

Rick closes his eyes tightly and Merle’s asshole
tightens around his cock, urging hot streams of cum into the redneck.
Rick simply grunts, falling back to look on at the others.

And people criticize Rick for not being a strong leader. Look at the way he just took charge of Merle’s anus!

Shane
dives in next, foregoing any play and getting straight to a hard fuck.
He’s fast and rough, a great pace for Merle, who clutches the cold table
and closes his eyes, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he
feels himself shake from the ex-cop’s power.

I immediately stopped to wonder how well Merle could actually grasp the table if he’s lost his hand, then I wondered iof this was before Merle left, and then I realized I was thinking about this fan fic way, way more than it deserved, and then I cried.

Shane gets lost in the
heat, cock slick with Rick’s cum, hands gripped tight around Merle’s
ankles. Shane must have a thing for feet, by the way he’d would draw
Merle’s legs together as he fucked him, burying his face in the fleshy
underside, taking a deep sniff and groaning against the calloused skin.

I’ve read a lot of disgusting fucking things in my years running FFF, but sniffing Michael Rooker’s feet has got to be among the most foul.

Whatever works for him, Merle supposes. Sometimes he’d take Merle’s
underwear to cum in it, inhaling the fabric deeply before soaking it
with his cum, but today he ejaculates inside Merle, hot strands settling
alongside Rick’s.

?

…and that just beat it soundly.

Merle has requested that Glenn never goes
first. He needs time to loosen up for him, that boy is hung like… well,
enough to completely dispel that particular stereotype forever. Glenn
seems to love it, though, smiling like an idiot as he enters Merle,
seemingly enjoying the stream of curse words spilling from the older
man’s lips. He doesn’t seem too experienced, so Merle usually ends up
giving him a tutorial through gritted teeth, voice hoarse from the mass
pushing inside him.

Merle is a horrible racist redneck, but a very considerate lover.

Merle himself is stiff as a board, though, and he
concludes that he must just be a huge slut for any kind of cock. He
wouldn’t be spread out on a freezing table in the middle of an
apocalypse if he wasn’t.

Jim is a hairy guy, one of Merle’s
favourites. His dick twitches in anticipation as Jim slowly unbuttons
his shirt, a sound followed by the popping of buttons from his jeans.

Jim is this dude from season one, in case you’ve forgotten and are unable to imagine him making sweet, sweet love to Michael Rooker’s ass.

Naked, he climbs on top of Merle, hands already roaming his matted furry
chest. Jim never kisses him, which is just fine for Merle. He probably
misses his family, never wants to forget the taste of his wife that
lingers on his lips. Instead his face lays buried in the crook of the
man’s neck, a delightful burn of stubble grating fiercely on Merle’s
reddened skin as Jim fucks him.

Yeah, it sure would be a shame for Jim to sully the memory of his dead wife by kissing the filthy overweight redneck he’s buttfucking on the mouth.

Dale is a sweetheart, almost too
caring. He doesn’t use Merle’s body for his own pleasure, softly
stroking the redneck’s nipples as he gets fucked by the other guys,
cradling his head and stroking his cheek when the groans sound like they
have an edge of pain to them.

?

If it came down to a choice between having this man play with my nipples or getting eaten by a zombie, I’d douse myself with A-1 and starting ringing a goddamn dinner bell.

While the other guys are focused on
fucking the shit out of him, Dale goes slow and gentle, angling every
stroke to please both of them. His pitch goes a little higher as Dale
brings himself to the edge and pours into Merle, then he collapses on
top of him, flashing that brilliant white grin, hoping to see the same
glint of happiness within Merle. He has yet to see anything but a polite
smirk back.

He hates T-Dog.

RACIST.

Glares as he takes his position,
scoffs as T-Dog whips the older man’s legs over his shoulders. It’s
always the same shit, of course, all that bravado subsides the instant
T-Dog’s thick cock enters him. It fills him up easily and Merle fights
to stop his eyes from widening, giving T-Dog the satisfaction.

T-Dog’s probably just satisfied to be in a goddamn scene.

The
thrusting picks up and he can’t hold it in anymore, hollering like a
little bitch, knuckles whitening as T-Dog uses all his force to pound
into Merle, as if anything less than his hardest would be going easy on
that motherfucker. He wants Merle’s toes to curl, eyes to roll back into
his head. The next day, Merle will desperately try to hide a very
slight limp. T-Dog will know, though.

T-Dog always knows

Radiating heat and flushed
red, Merle’s eyes begin to haze over as T-Dog edges closer to climax.
All of a sudden it stops, and T-Dog pulls out quickly, scrambling onto
the table and straddling the confused men underneath him.

“Take
it, you fuckin’ bitch.” He sticks his tongue out through tightened teeth
as he orgasms, groaning hard as he coats Merle’s face with cum. It gets
in Merle’s eyes and stings, prompting a yell. Before he knows it
T-Dog’s cock is in his mouth, fucking forcefully until it goes limp.
T-Dog gives a wicked, satisfied grin and snorts before dropping a wad of
spit onto Merle’s lips. He leaves with Merle shouting obscenities but
notices that Merle doesn’t wipe his face. Fucking whore.

The real tragedy is that T-Dog has had more lines in this erotic fan fic than most actual Walking Dead episodes.

Morales
and the Vatos get impatient, tired ofstanding around and jerking their
cocks while the others get all the fun.

Oh christ, it’s the Mexican Gang Member Retirement Home from season one! Really, Gym Class Hero? You’re so desperate to write about people fucking Merle that you’re bringing out these guys? Look, if they were shitty characters in the actual TV show, then they’re shitty characters in your erotic fan fic, too.

They stuff him up, pushing
themselves into his mouth and ass, fucking themselves on his cock,
sitting on his face and demanding he eat them out. Merle’s eyes are
shocked and wide, face twisted as he feels multiple men enter his ass,
fucking hard without a build-up. They try the same with his mouth, all
the while growling something he can’t understand. His hands are busy
too, working the cocks of men he can’t see, feeling more against his
cheek like there’s a fucking line to choke him. He splutters and gags,
barely getting out a groan as he’s filled up again. His eyes are heavily
lidded, tears streaming down his face, bright red with humiliation.
He’s at the complete mercy of men who see him as nothing more than a
toy, and he loves it.

You know, given how many different ethnicities Merle has just brought to orgasm, I’m beginning to think he’s actually a pretty shitty racist.

Ed finishes quickly, his smaller endowment
barely scratching the surface after all that has occurred. Still hazy,
Merle gathers the strength to push himself up, resting with his hands
back to support him. He’s still hard, cock turning purple and bulbous
thanks to the ring fastened extra tight around the base.

I imagine Michonne was actually about to meet the group here, saw what was happening, and immediately turned around and walked off.

It’s thick with
sweat and scent from the Vatos, precum leaking down the abused member.
Merle looks up, registering that there’s someone standing in front of
him ,naked. It’s a dirty, scratched up body that’s nervously palming his
balls, if he didn’t know better he’d say it was-

A zombie?

“Daryl?”

?

His
brother usually doesn’t show up for these events. He goes quiet and
pretends to do other things when Merle talks to him about it afterwards,
always trying to change the subject.

He doesn’t want to hear all about his brother getting bukkake’d? What a prude.

He might not be into Merle but for
the longest time the redneck has wanted his baby brother buried deep
inside him.

World’s most awkward Hallmark card.

A silence falls on the two of them, Daryl drawing his eyes
downwards as he finally speaks.

“I c-came to ask you ’bout that deer kill the other day.”

“Then why are ya naked, baby brother?” Merle drawls, eyes still heavy with lust.

“I bet Shane that T-Dog wouldn’t have a line in this thing. I can’t believe I was wrong.”

He
looks fucking beautiful to Daryl. Skin all patched red with marks,
covered in every fluid the men could muster, cock flexing out precum
like it’d never go dry. Daryl doesn’t answer Merle, simply pulling up
against his brother and leaning in for a sloppy, wet kiss. He can taste
everyone on Merle’s tongue, and the sheer fact that he’s kissing his
brother in front of all the boys in the camp is making the adrenaline
rush to his dick, hard as rock against Merle.

That’s not what rushes there.

Merle lies back once again, hands behind his head, that shit-eating grin creeping across his face again.

“C’mon then, pup, all warmed up for ya.”

“And by warmed, I mean my anus is well-lubricated with other men’s semen. Just wanted to make sure that was abundantly clear!”

Daryl
doesn’t wait to enter him and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself
from coming right then and there. Merle is thick and hot and every
thrust pulls long, ropey strands of the other men’s cum from his used
hole, Daryl can’t decide whether to watch it snap back onto Merle’s
bulky as cheeks or lock eyes with his big brother, who keeps saying his
name in this low growl, whiskey-laced breath seeping through snarled
teeth.

Daryl’s pumping harder now, the thrill of pounding his
brother’s slackened asshole bringing him close to orgasm. His eyebrows
furrow as the heat rises in his balls, sweat moistening his face as he
lets himself thrust harder. He avoids looking down in case it makes him
cum, but finds that locking eyes with Merle was the worst thing he could
do.

?

I’ll second that.

In one swift motion, his big brother takes a long lick of his own
lips, gathering cum and pulling it into his mouth, opening and closing
it as the strands stick to his tongue and roof of his mouth before he
lets it dribble down his chin, a messy pile forming on his smooth chest.

?

It’s
too much for Daryl and he orgasms, face twisting as he empties himself
into Merle, who follows suit and yanks off his cock ring, allowing
himself to shoot powerful spurts of cum into the air that eventually
land back onto his own cock and balls, merging with the mess. Still
shuddering, Daryl feels himself pulled into Merle’s arms, all hot and
sticky as the older man kisses him, rubbing his face affectionately. He
swipes some stickiness from Daryl and lets his baby brother lick it off
his thumb, both Dixons grinning.

“Well now,” Merle mutters, “ain’t that nice?”

No. No it is not nice. I’m genuinely glad the season ended because now I have at least six months to block out this Merle orgy before season 3 begins. Although you know, if zombies were off eating Lori, Carl and Carol while this
fuckeroo was going down, this nightmare might actually be worth it. SERIOUSLY, LORI, JUST TRY TO SEE IF YOU CAN WATCH YOUR GODDAMN SON FOR MORE THAN 15 SECONDS AT A TIME