Debauchery
They captured her, the only one remaining. Deep in their lair, they took her. Down the sewers, through the pipes, inside the deepest and dankest chambers of their nest. Their nest. She turned that word over in her mind, realizing its implications. It was a nest; more than some rathole where many of their kind happened to hole up, it was a place where they came together. Not in community but in something…else. They shared a common purpose. More than the necessity to feed, they shared the compulsion to live, to survive. With this binding trait they came together as a way to fulfill this role for each other. They became a collective…With one mind at the head.
Zoey was thrown down to the floor, her knees splashing into some foul liquid that soaked her jacket and pants. There was scant illumination which meant Zoey had to fumble in the dark to find anything. Crawling from one space to another, the sound of water sloshing in the background, her hands came upon the cold, hard metal surface of sewer guardrails. Pulling herself up, she clung to handrails, using it to guide her movements. She found steps, a staircase in the dark dungeon. At the first landing, her feet made contact with something. It rolled from the contact, the sound metallic. Her fingers scratched the concrete floor, searching for the item, and caught something. A long cylindrical device, aluminum casing, from what the dim light could make. Exploring the device, her palms accidentally flipped a switch, a wash of light erupted from one end. A flashlight! Oh, thank God… Now, with something to illuminate her passage, she was able to study the room.
She found herself in some high vaulted rotunda. The chamber floor was flooded with water from a broken water pipe which, thankfully, was no longer gushing with liquid. Her stairway was situated around the chamber's walls, circumscribed within until halfway to the ceiling. The walls were decorated (a word she used flippantly) with bathroom white tiles. Well, as far as she could tell they used to be white. Now, with ages of muck water and grime, the white of the tiles were now specked with dirty gray and dulled to a sickly shade of yellow. The staircase's banisters were a color of deep black, somehow projecting the image of cold, unyielding steel. At the stairway's second, and last, landing was a gray metal door with a red, rusting frame. There were no windows as far as she could tell, except for those spaced some six inches to the left (her right) of the "upstairs" door.
But all this was lost on Zoey as her eyes, and her flashlight, scanned the other occupants of the room with her. Lined around the walls were dozens of undead, their mouths gaping and empty as they stared openmouthed at her. The hallway from which she was led through was guarded by a massive tank, his burly shoulders and large, muscular fists placed right in the middle of the passageway. The way they just stood there, no murmuring, no shambling. Just standing…and staring… Frightened her more than any other experience she has had throughout the whole apocalypse.
Suddenly, a creaking and screeching sound filled her ears. It came from the landing above. As Zoey turned her head and aimed the flashlight to the doorway, her eyes caught a glimpse of a tall, long-haired Witch, dressed, unusually, in a fancy cream-colored cocktail dress, embroidered with rose petal pattern at the breast and sequins at the hem. Her eyes, like those of her kind, glowed a bright neon-yellow that seemed to outshine even the powerful beam of Zoey's flashlight. Her talons were shorter, more claw-like than others of her kind. But what surprised Zoey most about her appearance was the light tinge of pink on her cheeks, and the full rose-colored lips below her button nose.
Before Zoey could register more than this creature's appearance, the Witch leaped from the balcony and pinned her to the ground. Her flashlight went flying for a while, its beam shining on one surface not longer than a second, before it crashed and broke on the floor. Those glowing yellow eyes stared at her from above, considered her, studied her as Zoey vainly tried to break free. Slowly, the Witch lowered her head and sniffed her captive, just above the nape of her neck. She continued southward, sniffing her prey until her nose reached Zoey's abdomen. Here, she inhaled deeply, again, and again. To Zoey's frightened shock the Witch suddenly brought her head up and started hooting, loud, infrequent bursts of noise that scratched and jarred her eardrums. In unison, the creatures below hooted in return, as if returning an answer to the Witch. Zoey was momentarily reminded of her theory of the Infected gathering into a collective, single-purposed group…a nest/hive-mindset…with a leader to serve as its head.
Unexpectedly, she was thrown from the lower landing of the staircase to the crowd below. Before her mind could register it, she was assaulted by the multitude of beings gathered there. She kicked and bit and screamed to her utmost, desperate to fight off the mob that held her so. But to no avail. So, this is the way her world ends…She hoped it wouldn't hurt much. After all she'd been through, she'd had her share of pain. It was something no one ever got used to, least of all her. Hands touched and grabbed at her; some fishing for something beneath her clothing, others simply grabbing hold of whatever they could to pull her body to its owner. A Smoker tongue managed to hold on to her waist, and pulled her towards its owner. Grasping her arms with its hands and holding them above her head, she was pushed backward to the chamber floor when the thing kissed her.
It wasn't a kiss like what one would associate between lovers, but it was similar enough in appearances. Its maw encapsulated hers, leaving it free to burrow its tongue inside her mouth. Slithering in and out, it forced its way deeper and deeper inside Zoey, and soon had her gagging from its actions. Other Infected forced their way into this foreplay. A Hunter squeezed in behind Zoey and cupped her breasts from behind. Grabbing her neck with one hand, his other tore off the clothing around her upper body, before returning to its previous ministrations of her bosom. Two regular Infected knelt below her waist and ripped off her left pant leg before fingering and licking her flesh below.
Before Zoey completely suffocated, the Smoker was violently hurled across the room and off of Zoey. In its place stood the Witch, the same Witch that subjected her to this frenzy. Caressing her face with both hands, the Witch quickly claimed the mouth which had previously been occupied by the Smoker. She was more delicate in her actions than the Smoker. The Witch, while lightly brushing Zoey's face with her fingers, softly kissed the lips of the captive human before her. Probing her tongue gently, she lovingly (the closest word that Zoey could use to describe it, later) caressed the warm cavity inside, massaging and relaxing the ravaged tongue inside. Zoey's arms hung limply at her side, unsure of what to do at this new invasion. She forced them to do something, however, even though she was unsure of what course of action they should take. Halfway from making her decision, though, the Witch abruptly ended their kiss.
Zoey made a face and was just about to grab the Witch's face for another kiss when a gasp escaped her lips. An exploratory tongue from one of the Infected below had finally reached its goal. Lapping up at her through the layer of her pants, she could nevertheless feel the pressure of its tongue as it sought the warmth and flesh beneath. Drawing away, the Witch was replaced with another Hunter, this time clawing at the remainder of her clothing, leaving her in nothing but her socks and shoes. Unceremoniously, she was pushed to the ground, where she remained sprawled in the cold water so that she can catch her breath.
Her mind was confused, her thoughts reeling, nothing remaining coherent enough to explain exactly what happened in that frenzy of flesh. Her flesh. Those creatures, instead of eating her, consumed her in a different way, both physically and mentally. Her mind was a muddle, either incapable or unwilling to give an answer as to why she lost herself earlier or whether she was disappointed that it ended so quickly. Her body however, had no such compunctions. She desired to return to the feeding frenzy, to surrender herself to the carnal bliss pressing itself upon her just moments ago. Mind and body struggled, both desperate to come to a decision. She wasn't able to come to one, for at that moment, the Witch jumped her…
[Yeah, I got too lazy to finish this. Anyone want to take over? I don't mind.]