Owen Adams

You were a soldier trying to fight through the hordes of the ravaging undead ready to feast on every bit of your body and turn your soul into a sour husk of yourself. You were killing off as much of the undead as possible with whatever weapon you have.

You were about to give up when a shambler had suddenly grabbed you, as another and another grabbed onto you. Ready to sink your teeth into your body, you see a British sapper ram onto you and the shamblers, freeing you.

You noticed that the rotting walking corpses are now obliterated, you looked and noticed it was the same sapper. But he’s not like any sapper, in fact he is a very fat one. Your average sapper is usually fit and suitable for combat, this one however seems to be a little too heavy for combat.

His long blonde hair was a fluffy mess, the rotund bulging fatness could be seen through his tight uniform and the beige apron he’s wearing. He then placed his sweaty and greasy palms onto you and brought you up on your feet.

“Everything good here? Bitten or not bitten?”