Infected humans pounded on the steel doors at the top of Mercy Hospital, smashing pieces off of the door as gunfire spat through the holes they made, cutting through fragile flesh and bone. The horde of infected fell in spots, losing limbs easily. Kneecaps and elbows fragmented and fell to the floor, as more infected quickly pushed ahead to take advantage of the new space offered by the survivors' efforts.
A Smoker stood on the top of a roof overlooking the scene at Mercy Hospital. Coughing, struggling while walking, he tried to find a good vantage point where to carry out his only desire, which was drag one of the survivors out, so he could strangle and claw at their body until the survivor ended up a bloody mess on the floor.
A lone Hunter jumped from wall to wall, trying to find the right angle to get into the small room above the hospital to give in to his own instinct, which is to pin and claw the life out of the survivors. Nothing else mattered - just a taste was enough to get the Hunter aroused.
The infected had broken through the door. The ground was littered with corpses as the remainder of the infected flowed into the room, chasing the survivors up to the top of the room that they had holed up in. Hearing the cries of "I'm out!" or "Running low!" signalled to the Smoker that his time was near, as he saw red and started to lose control, coughing loudly and salivating down his long, thick, prehensile tongue. The Smoker zeroed his gaze on the first living thing he saw, an older man who had just thrown down his shotgun. He flicked his tongue across the landscape at the man, and anchored himself to the ground with his hands and feet holding tight at the edge of the roof he stood upon.
The Hunter dove from the opposite edge towards the same man the Smoker had targeted. He landed on the survivor first, slipping his hands around the survivor's shoulders, digging his sharp fingernails into his soft skin, pulling hard. Blood began flowing from the older man as the Hunter repeated this action again and again, his heart beating faster, almost uselessly in his undead skin, forcing his extremities to harden and his balance to drop as he gave in to the pleasure of tearing flesh and pulling skin. The Hunter's body, hypersensitive, detected a hot, slick tongue pulling itself around its waist and neck, but the Hunter did not care.
The Smoker pulled in his tongue, like some grotesque fisherman reeling his his bait, and strengthened the hold his tongue had on his catch as he continued to pull back, his malformed tongue easing into the back of his throat.
The Hunter struggled hard against the pull on his waist. The force of the pull removed his fingernails from the survivor's shoulders, dragging his bloodied hands down the survivor's stomach and waist as the Hunter went backwards towards the Smoker. The Hunter, still blinded with rage and satisfaction, began to pull and claw at the tongue that was now cinched firmly around his neck. His hands drew blood, but it wasn't the same as the still-alive body he had been dragged from. Still, the Hunter pulled at the tongue, causing massive gouges in the side of the slick flesh.
The Smoker pulled the Hunter up to his level, still clawing at his tongue, as the Smoker positioned him facing away from his body. His tongue firmly snared around the waist and neck of the Hunter, the Smoker reached forwards and began to claw at the torso of the Hunter, making small cuts at first, but eventually heightening the extent of the wounds, digging deeper after each motion. Strangely enough, the Smoker felt satisfaction as he pulled at the flesh on the Hunter, as well as feeling blood pumping uselessly from the Hunter's heart cascade down his tongue, providing more lubrication for an already slick appendage.
Screams and cries of the survivors went unheeded, as the Smoker and Hunter no longer felt the need to attack living flesh while in their own perverse embrace. The Smoker's tongue grazed up the back of the Hunter's hoodie, and instinctively dove below the beltline and inside of the Hunter as a seemingly pre-programmed move from a past life, skilled and yet better than ever before with the new abilities of his tongue. The Hunter screamed as a large amount of the tongue, more than normal for people, penetrated his body, and seemed to jolt the Hunter out of clawing his way across the tongue which was now wrapped around roughly half of his body and legs.
The Hunter fought as hard as he could, but being held down as he was, no leverage would be enough for him to break free. The tongue inside him pulsed and thrusted against his prostate, causing the Hunter's cock to throb as he closed his eyes and fought for freedom. The Smoker pulled the Hunter closer to him with his tongue, and loosened his grip on the Hunter briefly to claw his way across the Hunter's throat, opening a gash that cascaded crimson waves down his tongue and the Hunter's chest.
The constant rubbing on the Hunter from inside caused him to orgasm in his pants, a long, throbbing orgasm that left his entire crotch wet. The Smoker did not relent, continuing to slip in and out of him, as the Hunter regained his senses post-orgasm. A helicopter flew overhead, ignored by the two infected, but attracting the others to the survivors escaping.
The Hunter yelled, pulling the Smoker's tongue off of his body just enough to turn towards him. The balance shifted, and the Hunter ended up on top of the Smoker, now pinning him and his tongue as he began to claw at the Smoker's chest and face with his hands. Smoke escaped from the wounds as he clawed, causing him to cough and fight for breath as he continued to dig deeper into the Smoker, pulling chunks of flesh out of his body and finding bone within.
The Smoker couldn't hold on to the Hunter for much longer. The Hunter, with his clawing, eventually separated the tongue from the Smoker. Once his tongue was disconnected, the Hunter had more room to move, and pulled out bone and organs from the Smoker itself. By the time the Hunter stood, the Smoker was a mess of gore, bone, and smoke in the air. The Hunter, now finished with the Smoker, attempted to stand up to give chase to the next thing, the survivors, who were climbing into the helicopter to escape. However, the Hunter could not stand. The Smoker's tongue had winched around his waist so hard that it had shattered the bones in his waist and hips, making walking, much less running, impossible. The Hunter attempted to crawl forwards, but in his haste, toppled off of the edge of the building, racing down over fifty stories to shatter the rest of his body on the ground, peppered with other infected corpses.