We've collected 38 of the wrongest, weirdest, freakiest and most horrifying sex scenes from science-fiction and horror movies. You may want to get your ophthalmologist to put in those eye-blurring eyedrops before watching some of these. There are severed penises, severed heads, evil trees, dolls inseminating Jennifer Tilly, Satanic rituals and alien women who drain men's sexual vitality, usually killing them. Freud would get stuck in an endless feedback loop of WTF trying to figure out what these clips say about the people who made them.

Like much horror in general, a lot of these clips depict stuff that you would be, well, horrified to see happening in real life — except that in this case, it's all so absurdly campy and unreal, you mostly just question your taste in choosing to watch this stuff. However, a disclaimer does apply: if you're upset by weirdly graphic and physically impossible sex acts, a few of which involve badly choreographed violence, then don't watch these clips. We are not going to pay your therapy bills.

(Some of these clips are ones we've featured on the blog before, in the past couple years' worth of "found footage" posts.)

We already featured one dreadful oral sex moment up top, but here are several more:

And here are some clips of monster sex that may make you want to take up a vow of celibacy:

And then there are the horrendous insemination moments:

And finally, just a general collection of "holy crap WTF" moments:

Deadgirl is such a striking entry in the zombie feminism genre because it's just so damn literal. You've got a naked girl, strapped to a bed in a mental institution, being raped by a bunch of teenaged guys. Clearly a situation in need of a feminist zombie intervention if I ever saw one. If you were to boil the message of this film down to one basic point (which you probably shouldn't), it would be that men shouldn't rape women because those women might turn out to be superpowered zombies who want to eat your you-know-what.

As you can see from this tiny piece of the teaser, the movie is an emo arthouse take on your standard "how do you contain a zombie" plot. Filmmakers Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel did not accidentally create a movie that dabbles in questions of how women are degraded by men. That's basically the point of the story: Our vengeful zombie's refusal to be raped and ruined is symbolic enough to provide social commentary, but grody enough to keep you entertained.

Still, it wasn't that long ago that raped women in movies just stayed dead.

What struck me immediately on seeing the trailer for Deadgirl was that Sarmiento and Harel were clearly referencing another dead, raped girl wrapped in plastic. Laura Palmer, the girl whose murder rips apart the tiny town of Twin Peaks in the eponymous cult TV series, is also found "dead, wrapped in plastic," as one character puts it. You can see her glamor shot above, an image that was used to advertise the haunting David Lynch series starring Kyle McLaughlin as FBI agent Dale Cooper, come to investigate the former prom queen's murder.

Investigating the horrifying events that led to Laura's murder takes Cooper into a supernatural world of ghosts and the undead. But Laura never avenges herself. Her spirit lingers, as does the evil BOB spirit who has helped perpetrate the crime, but Laura herself never has a chance to fight back zombie-style. Maybe she's the pre-feminist zombie, the modest and lady-like creature who lets men solve the mystery of her death for her.

The message of Twin Peaks, at least in terms of its dead girl protagonist, is that men won't get away with rape — but they'll be brought to justice by other men, not the women they've victimized.

Similarly, the cult 1980s film River's Edge features a very Deadgirl-esque plot. A teen rapes and murders his girlfriend, then leaves her body out for all his friends to see. They decide to cover up the murder, visiting the dead girl's body every day until a few of them realize what they've done is wrong and turn in the perpetrator. That haunting image of the dead girl, unable to fight back, is partly what fuels the bizarre rage at the heart of zombie feminism. Watching that pretty, dead face, you want her to get up and scream: You want her to bite that raping bastard's scalp off and drool his brains all over the place.

And that was precisely the pleasure in watching this year's other great zombie feminist masterpiece, Zombie Strippers. This flick features porn star Jenna Jameson as a stripper bitten by a zombie infected by a government drug to keep soldiers fighting after they die. The more zombie-fied she gets, the more the clientele goes crazy for her. Even when she drags men into the back room and rips their throats out and bites their dicks off. Soon, the other strippers are begging to be infected too, so they can make more in tips.

Before long, nearly all the strippers are infected, and they've got a giant basement room full of all the reanimated, mutilated men they've been gnawing on. None of these strippers are being raped or murdered by men — they're just dealing with standard-issue stuff like objectification and the dangers of working in the sex industry. And yet it's hard not to see their undeaths as a kind of revenge on men who treat women like objects. These guys come to the strip club to "get some meat," and then they're turned into meat themselves.

The problem here is that the men actually like it. Their favorite strippers are the zombies, and the women have gained "power" only by becoming monsters. Just as our girl in Deadgirl can only fight back because she's a monster. So is the message of zombie feminism that a strong women is always a monster? That she must die and return as a ghoul in order to fight back against rape and less violent forms of sexism?

Or is the message that men must die and become zombies themselves before women will ever be happy? Two years ago, a brilliant Canadian comedy called Fido posed that very question. A traditional housewife played by Carrie Ann "Matrix" Moss falls in love with the zombie servant her husband brings home from the zombie control factory (after people start rising from their graves, his employer invents a "control collar" that makes them docile). Why is the zombie man better than her husband? He cooks, he cleans, he takes care of their son and pays attention to her. An object himself, he's able to see the humanity in a woman who is treated like an object by all the living men in her life.

Ever since Dr. Frankenstein reanimated a woman to serve as his monster's bride and she said no, the zombie woman has been a weird figure for female resistance to control. Zombie feminism is an uneasy subgenre, daring to use freakish gore and death slapstick to pose questions about what it might take for women to become unrapeable. Or for men to see women the way women see themselves.

The question is, why do we have to imagine ourselves as monsters in order to tell stories about what it would be like to become fully human?

The plot is simple and to-the-point. President George W. Bush, with new VP Arnold Schwarzenegger, has just been "reelected" a fourth time due to the wonders of electronic voting machines. All forms of public nudity (including in strip clubs) have been made illegal. The war still rages in Iraq. And scientists at the evil W Corporation have created a zombie virus to give to dead soldiers so that they can keep fighting even after being killed. Sort of a futuristic stop-loss situation. With zombies.

Inevitably, the zombie virus escapes the lab via an infected dude, with the Z Squad in hot pursuit. Of course the dude winds up in a strip club (whose owner is played by Robert "Freddie" Englund). He promptly proceeds to zombie out after biting Kat (Jenna Jameson), the star stripper. For some reason, her superpowered, rotting-flesh style of zombie stripping makes the guys go crazy! They just love all those veins in her boobies and her bloody teeth. So the other strippers start asking Kat to zombie them out too, so they can compete for tips.

Pretty soon, after about twenty zillion zombie stripping scenes that get weirder and more fucked up as the movie progresses, you've got a whole passel of zombie strippers who have to eat men every night. The men they pick from the audience imagine they're about to get some special attention — until they find out what it's like to get their dicks, tongues, brains, and guts gnawed out by apeshit zombie strippers hopped up on Nietzschean goofballs.

Inspired by classic existentialist play Rhinoceros by Eugene Ionesco, the flick is larded with references to philosophy (it takes place in Sartre, Nebraska) and surreal speeches which combine direct quotes from Nietzsche with Juno-style smartpatter. "It's not about a sense of self but of regression to the mean!" cries one about-to-be-zombified stripper, who then adds, "But it's so fucking cool!"

The special effects are great, the mood is pure fucked-up, and there is (of course) a zombie stripper showdown involving pool balls where Jameson commendably allows her naked body to look truly disgusting. After about an hour of watching the same dark sets in the strip club, you really do get the feeling that you're watching one of those claustrophobic existentialist plays where everyone is in hell screaming "I HATE YOU" to their own reflections in mirrors.

This movie is like some kind eruption from the dark heart of pop culture and intellectual culture at once, a meditation on female sexual conformity that nevertheless shoves boobies in our faces. But rotted boobies! That kill you! Are we supposed to enjoy the stripping or be grossed out by it? Are these just regular old cool zombies, or do they represent the disease of submission in political life?

All I have to say is: Damn that tongue-eating scene was great! And I don't think my life will be complete until poststructuralist feminist film theorist Kaja Silverman has explained this movie to me — or, if not me, at least someone.

Keep your eye on director/producer team the Lees. I think we'll be hearing from them again, and it's going to rock.

Zombie Strippers opens in theaters across the U.S. tomorrow.

According to writer/director Jay Lee (The Slaughter), here's the plot of Zombie Strippers:

A corporation is developing a chemo-virus to re-animate soldiers killed in combat so they can keep on fighting. The tests prove dying and re-animating can make these soldiers fearless, and thus they become super-zombie soldiers. The virus gets loose in the lab, an elite squad comes in to clean it up, one gets bitten, runs and hides in a dark building that happens to be an illegal strip club.