Return of the Nudist Punks - Chapter 1 (9/7/2025)

[BlueDragmire]

It's been a long while since I wrapped up my first tale here. I've had a few story ideas come and go in my head, they never materialized into anything solid. I might get back to them after this one. This past week I rewatched one of my favorite movies of all time, 'Return of the Living Dead', and if you're picturing Linnea Quigley's character dancing naked on a grave stage, that image is through this first chapter. I don't think we'll actually have zombies in this story, however.

I don't know total chapter length yet, updates are probably going to be weekly. This first chapter is a POV to set things up. I'll be back to this narrator girl eventually, she's just the introduction to our rock star. Everybody in this story is over the age of 18.

Chapter 1

“Street Trash! Street Trash! Trash! Trash! Trash!” chanted the crowd. We shuffled in, pushing past people to try to get a better look. There were probably fifty or one hundred people here, mostly men, mostly older men. I was glad nobody at school would recognize me, at least, unless one of my teachers might also be at a midnight punk show.

I tripped a bit over something and realized it was a flat grave on the ground. I crossed myself, whispering 'sorry' under my breath. Who has a concert in the middle of the night at a cemetery? The chants stopped when people realized the show wasn't yet starting, the band was late. My phone told me it was already 1 AM, and I felt more nervous every minute. It was very dark, no moon at all, all clouds. The only light was cell phone flashlights and a some spotlights somebody had set up over a mausoleum nearby, which wobbled and seemed like they could fall over at any second.

“What if the cops come?”, I whined to my sister, who had dragged me out here.

“The cops always come! That's what makes these shows great!”, said my sister, and the boys around us cheered. She was the cool one, the one in college, the pretty one too. She knew stuff, was part of a "Scene", and meanwhile, I was too nerdy to even know what a "Scene" was. I didn't belong out here, in a thick and hot humid night, while this sweaty crowd made the air all the thicker. I started thinking about how I could go home. I'd have to take a shower when I got back but couldn't wake up our parents. 'Just an hour.. maybe two, then we'll leave and I'll be safe in my bed' I whispered to myself. I crossed my arms, wishing I was wearing more than a low-cut top. I had wanted to look cool, but I really didn't want to show cleavage seeing this crowd around us of loud perverts.

The show hadn't started yet and my sister was making conversation with a few boys. I looked away, shyly, checking my phone again. I looked up the band name on Apple Music, then Youtube, then Bandcamp, nothing. “I can't find their music, am I spelling the name right?”, I asked. The band's name was 'Skuzzhumpers', charming.

“Oh put that away, sis. They don't upload their music online. All those sites are owned by capitalist assholes anyway.”

“Wait, how do they get fans then?”

“Word of mouth?”, said a strange boy.

“So um... which of the Skuzz... humpers”, I struggled even saying the band name. “Which one of the Skuzzhumpers songs do you all like?”

“Songs!” said that boy, laughing. “You're a cute one. Here, have a drink.” I was too scared to drink something of a solo cup from a stranger, even if he did have cool hair. I just murmured a few sounds that weren't words. My big sister stepped in.

“She doesn't drink yet. Besides, I got better shit here.” She pulled out of her backpack a glass bottle of some green stuff my parents hid in the liquor cabinet. My sister took a sip and winced. She took me aside, “Remember, nothing from a stranger. And we stick together. Just enjoy the show. You won't forget it.”

Sis returned to flirting with the boys, leaving me behind. I tried to talk again to the solo cup guy. “What do you mean... this band doesn't have songs?”

“Yeah, they're sort of... experimental. Noise-core.”, said his friend, with a Mohawk, who obviously I didn't know. I didn't even know people still had Mohawks.

Another guy joined in. “No, the Skuzz are post-post-post-punk. With a bit of thrash.”

Soon enough, strangers all around me were arguing. A few other genres got thrown out with words like 'Speed', 'Doom', 'Avantgarde' and this led to an debate over whether the word 'Metal' even mattered at all, if was too commercial. Soon enough, people were accusing others of being posers and I felt extremely seen, the most poser-y poser in this entire cemetery, besides maybe the innocent ghosts whose rest we were bothering. I had no idea what anybody was talking about. When I did listen to music I listened nothing more hardcore than Taylor Swift and the Wicked soundtrack.

But then the crowd got quiet again. “Street Trash! Street Trash! Trash! Trash! Trash!” was the chant when people realized the show was starting. I joined in, saying “Trash” before asking my sister, “I though we were seeing the Skuzzhumpers, not Street Trash?”

“Street Trash is the lead singer.”

“She calls herself 'Street Trash'?”

“Oh she is Street Trash. You'll see, she's coming out now.”

And so the crowd of a few hundred people, shoulder to shoulder now as they moved forward, some sitting on gravestones, all cheered. I could feel spit from some guy on my neck as he yelled “Marry me, Trash!”

Then she appeared. There were three other people in the band, but my eyes could only see the lead singer. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. For somebody called 'Street Trash', she both fit the bill and didn't. For one, she was beautiful but in a shock goth kind of way. She must have meant 'Trash' in a moral way, since her tits were completely out, and pierced nipples were rock hard. She sauntered forward, stepping like a stripper with one leg before the other, stepping confidently in slutty high heels. First thing she did was slip off the heels, with Trash leaning forward, letting everybody see her ass in tight leather hot pants and gray stockings. Some fan ran forward and grabbed the forgotten heels, and nobody stopped him. A member of the band, a tall man all in black with very long stringy hair, helped her up onto the 'stage', which was a long flat grave, five feet in the air, about ten feet long.

Trash had red hair, cut short, her skin was very pale, almost a bit blue thanks to the cold light, and you could see a lot of it. That's because she had torn off a leopard print shirt and had her arms in the sleeves, showing off. Her face was whiter than her chest, thanks to make-up. There were some jagged lines drawn on her face, like her smile would spread open to her cheek. Trash had skull earrings on, which buzzed like little Halloween decorations.

Just when it seemed like she was dropped the shirt down and be properly topless, Trash suddenly slipped it back on and sealed it shut, now faking like she was shocked people could see. Then she winked, popping the shirt open again to flash everybody. This routine of boobs-out and boobs-away went on for a minute with all the men alternate between “yeah!”s and “Aww...”s. Finally she tossed the shirt away, and some heavy-looking man in glasses grabbed in the hair, treasuring it, even smelling it. I felt a little nauseated to see him enjoying it.

“Do you like my tits?”, she spoke into a microphone. Her voice was very deep, almost monotone, like she was possessed by something. The crowd cheered. “Oh, you think I'm a girl don't? You think I'm a person, we're gonna make love. Bullshit! You don't fuck Trash, you dispose of it! I am Trash, Street Trash, and we are the Skuzzhumpers!"

She was half naked and making a show. A bandmate handed her a can of spray paint and shook it. Trash hopped off the grave, to do some crowd work. She cupped her round breasts and let the boy I was talking to earlier spray wildly on her naked skin, uncaring what he drew, uncaring what toxins might be in that spray paint. Trash took the can back and sprayed some other lines on herself, up and down, side to side. Before long she had random stripes all over her torso. In the heat of this humid night, she was glistening with sweat. She smeared the whole thing together, mixing sweat with paint and making a mess of herself. She wiped the whole thing on her face too, smearing her make-up, and sticking her tongue out, revealing a tongue piercing.

That had to hurt, right? I remembered that her nipples also had studs in them and I couldn't imagine how that felt. I cupped my own chest, reflexively, just to feel my own un-mutilated self. To my surprise, my nipples were hard, and even thought it was hot out, I felt some goosebumps down my arms. I shivered a bit.

A song began at some point, and The Skuzzhumpers were not Punk or Metal or anything, just indescribable chaos. She was not quite singing, more like shrieking, and I cupped my ears. It was so damn loud. A guitar howled. There was a lot of feedback and the band seemed to like the effect, they wanted us to suffer. Five minutes later, the 'song', if you could call it that, I could not make any sense of rhythm or lyrics, just sorted ended with Trash giving out a wail that almost felt like a sob.

With some quiet, I said to my sister. “This is music to you?”

My sister said, “No, it isn't music. Its a revolution!”

The singer of this pandemonium had slipped on a red leather vest. Finally covering her naked shame, I thought. But then she started talking. “I sometimes think about zombies, don't you?”, said Trash. The crowd nodded. “I think about a gaggle of old corpses, crawling out of their caskets, pulling their fingers out of the wet mud, reaching out their rotting arms, grabbing my ankles and then.. eating me alive.”

“Oh, I love this part!”, yelled my sister.

The crowd was cheering already, they had seen this act before. Street Trash continued. “First.. they tear off my clothes!”

The vest flew off first, and also somebody in the crowd grabbed it. “Oh yeah, Trash is taking off her clothes again!”, said a voice. Trash then ripped off a panel on her hot pants, which had a skull right on the crotch, revealing her privates. I thought maybe it was a trick, the singer was wearing flesh-covered underwear until I realized, no, I could see her slit, was had just shaved herself Barbie Doll smooth. Trash then leaned back and sat on the grave-stage, so she could pull off her pants. That just left her in the gray stockings, a cheering crowd, and yet another article of clothing tossed forward.

I actually caught the pants, without even meaning to. I just got lucky that way. I remembered catching a garter belt at a wedding once when I was seven, it felt like that.

“Oh you got a souvenir, sis!”

I was confused and a little scared. "How can she sing like this? Naked?"

"Sis, I don't have time to explain, but there's a long history of shock rockers. GG Allin would perform naked all the time in NYC until they found him dead one day."

"Who is GG Allin?", I tried to ask, but already another song had started.

I wanted to drop the pants, missing their front flap, on the ground. My hands felt dirty just holding it. But I held on tight, not knowing why. I felt very hot, sweating with all these people, all the saliva and breath in the air mixing together like some aerosol of lust. I realized I had never been so horny in my life watching Trash degrade herself, and I was humiliated to even be here.

A few more 'songs' (of sorts) went by. I had a splitting headache by now and took a swing of my sister's nasty green booze to maybe feel better. That only made me feel hotter and sicker, like I would gag. But I felt the energy of the place. When Trash took off those old ratty stockings of hers, I tried to catch them. By the fifth song and few more chugs of the green shit, the music was almost making sense to me. Trash was leaning fully back, legs behind her ears, and was miming her pussy talking. She was taking volunteers to lick her, and I stuck my hand out, as a joke at first, not realizing I would be picked.

Trash pointed at me. “Oh yeah, little girl, you want a taste of garbage.”, and the crowd was separating, parting for me to pass forward. I had no idea what I was doing, I had never even licked a boy's parts yet, let alone another girl's.

I was saved, I guess, by what happened next. There was another shrill noise, not part of the show. I heard the sirens and saw the flashing red and blue lights through the trees. Cops were everywhere, and people were running. It all happened so fast, I had been knocked over by some guys and I had lost my sister.

I was certain I was going to jail. How was I going to explain this to my parents? While everybody ran everywhere, I was standing there like an idiot. A pale hand grabbed mine, one with red nail polish. Street Trash had my wrist. “Come on, you idiot!”, she said, in a very different voice than the deep flirty one she had been speaking in all night. “Follow me!”

And so I did, I followed a completely naked rock star running through the grave yard and finally we found some little trees or big bushes to hide under. We were hiding there, half in the mud, my clothes were filthy, which was a problem Trash did not share, since she was as naked as the day she was born. A long time seemed to pass and she held back a sneeze at one point, sounding very dainty and girl-ish versus the monster she had been during hte show. "Aren't you cold?", I asked, while whispering. And I remembered I was still holding her leather hot pants. "Do you want this back?"

"Nah, keep it. I don't really own clothes anymore.", Trash whispered.

"You what??", I covered my mouth, realizing I had been a little too loud while hiding.

"It's a long story, kid. Just stay quiet until the cops get bored and go home."

We huddled close, and a long time passed, maybe hours. After awhile, Trash starting telling me how it all started. She was right, Trash's life up until now was a long story. She just gave me the quick overview that night, I learned a lot more during the next few weeks and months. I couldn't help but keep looking for more details, talk to more people.

I'll get back to my story later, because to explain what happened to me next, I need to tell you how Trash went from a normal person, a surprisingly sweet and innocent girl into what she is now: a nudist humanoid pile of Street Trash. She's right, she isn't human, not anymore. She's something you use and dispose of. And maybe, that night under the bushes in the cemetery, while she was so close to me I could smell the cigarettes on her breath and she could smell the alcohol on mine, I realized I was Trash too.