[darkstalker]

Bertha

The bullets riddle flesh and still the undead hordes keep coming. Michaela, code name “Bertha,” is sweating profusely beneath her mask but feels a great sense of pleasure in the separation of limb and organ from the body. Unfortunately, the undead zombies seem to have little sensation in regards to pain. With their nervous system as broken as it is, the appreciation she could otherwise feel for their misery in regards to the bullets ripping through their meat would be more appropriate.
Something tugs at her left arm and she turns, pushing the barrel of her rifle into the thing’s mouth. The bullet rips through the thing’s skull, splattering it’s brains outward onto the darkened concrete. “Das vi dana,” she whispers.
Strong arms wrap under her arms, lifting her body, the putrid head jerking forwards, trying to bite her left breast through the thick leather of her trench coat. She slams the butt of her gun down into its head, feeling a distinctive crunch and still the thing holds on. Again and again she slams the butt of her weapon down until the thing falls away, its face a mess of flesh and bone.
“Over there,” she hears commander Lupo say. “Don’t let him get away!”
She hears the boots of her teammates crunching up the pavement and moves to follow only to have something lunge at her legs and wear at her calf. She slams the butt of her gun down with brutal force, the skull of the thing crunching fully beneath the weapon. Its head splits open, body twitching. She has no time to savor the kill though.
More come. More grab at her trench coat, forcing her to rip the buttons open and discard it, unfortunately this also involves dropping her rifle. She turns up the parkway, pulling out a hand gun and fires towards the crowd. Though one or two stagger back, none fall away.
She can no longer hear her team and this worries her. Forced back by the undead and having lost the biggest garment to offer protection against their teeth, she runs down the dark parkway through the doors of the building, making her way down to the cellar, always with undead on her trail.
After several minutes she slams the steel door behind her, barring the door shut. The undead slam against the frame from the other side, sending ripples through it. She stumbles back, staring, breathing hard. Even if her team knows where she is, there is no way they can get to her. She is well and truly...
Something grabs her black sweater by the back, jerking it down roughly from her left shoulder. It is without hesitation the thing lunges and bites down on her collar. Lightning fast she turns her weapon and fires a shot. Blood splatters across her mask and exposed skin, the thing slumping down to the floor in a bloody heap.
She checks the chamber to her gun and curses. That was the final round. She unmask herself, dropping the mask to the floor and checks her wound, cursing once more. She’d known even before the bullet fired that the thing had broken skin. A circular incision lies around her neck region and shoulder. Only by quick reflex was she able to avoid getting a chunk of flesh ripped from her body.
Cursing, she reholsters her weapon and picks up her mask, slipping it back on and rebuckling it. She’d rather see what is coming for her in the dark as be surprised, even if it won’t last long. She at least needs to find a loaded weapon to end her own life if nothing else. Before she becomes one of.... these things.
After several minutes she has made it to a cell block of the police station. She is unsure how she managed to get here and leans back against the wall, her skin burning. All her clothes are sticking to her skin and her hair has come undone, sticking wetly to her forehead and brow. She unbuckles the mask and tosses it to the floor, letting it skitter past. It won’t be of use to her soon, her vision is already fogging up. Mind blurry. She lets herself sag against the wall, already hearing the slow shuffling crawl of a zombie on the other side of the wall.
She chuckles lightly and waits. She can’t seem to find a weapon and one of “those” things has already found her. Ironic. She supposes she will savor her own pain then. It is only fitting of course, after all the pain she has meted out. She shuts her eyes and awaits her fate.
The thing comes before her, standing. She can smell it, hear the low moan, but rather then lunging at her, it seems to be standing, indecisive.
She opens her eyes, irritated. “If you’re going to kill me then... Gwkk!”
The attack is sudden. Its phallus shoved down into the back of her throat, making her gag, hands clasping around her skull, gripping matts of hair as the thing forces its full member down her neck. She stares, wide eyed, trying to breathe around the thing as it pushes its member in deeper, trying to push itself past her air way.
She slaps at it weekly as it brings her lips within centimeters of its peeling hips then pulls back. She thinks she going to have a chance to breathe when it slams forward once more, shoving itself deep inside. This time it holds her against its hips and she beats her hands against its hips, letting out muffled screams as her nose is pressed against the rotten flesh. Then she is pulled back again, her mouth actually slipping off the thing.
She takes in deep gasp, sucking in mouthfuls of air, her lungs on fire. But before she can take her third, the thing is forcing its cock between her parted lips once more, shoving itself roughly against her throat. She feels her throat extend, trying to accommodate the monstrous invader and then pull out and push in, repeating the motion to her dismay.
She has tortured men and women to death in her laboratories, she thinks, but never had she forced the humiliation of a rape upon them. At least she’d left them with that dignity! She wonders what she could have done that the fates would be so cruel as to strip her of it?
Soon the thing is face fucking her, shoving against her lips and mouth at a rapid pace, slamming her skull against the wall. She feels her eyes rolling up in her head, her body unable to acclimate to the thing’s brutality. Her hands claw at its sides futilely, pulling away rotting skin and flesh, but nothing of worth to be able to pull it away permanently from her mouth.
In the end she stops fighting, simply digging her nails into its legs as it piston fucks her mouth, seemingly trying to shove itself through the roof of mouth into her skull. Saliva splashes messily from the sides of her lips and over chin onto her chest, mixed with burning bile. Still, it is nothing to dismay her violator.
She stops worrying herself about how extended her jaw feels or how her body burns richly, her eyes blurring, the light seeming so bright and stinging them. She feels it shoving against her cheek, the thing’s dick, stretching her gums and tender skin when she feels a hot sickly slime spill out.
Life returns to her temporarily as her nose is clogged with semen. She struggles against it as it holds her against its hips by her scalp, pressing her skull roughly against the back of the wall. Then it pulls away and she coughs, spitting cum and bile from her mouth, bending down to all fours.
Something grabs her by her hair, jerking her roughly. She lets out a groan and looks up at a second dull eyed creature staring down at her, then a third. And a fourth... and a fifth....
All of them looking down at her with slack jaws and stiffened cocks sticking out at attention. Michaela laughs sadly. Pain she could have dealt with, but this? This humiliation just feels too cruel. The gods must truly hate her...