Legal Disclaimer: The "Hunter" and "Tank" characters, and the generic zombie apocalypse plot all belong to Valve. This subplot however, is mine. So no plagiarizing.
Mature Content Warning: This story contains sexual themes, so you underage readers need to print this out, along with a self-addressed stamped envelope. Stuff the envelope with this story and give it to your parents, and tell them to drop this in the mail about 2 days before you turn 18. :-)
Or you could just ignore this warning all together and read it anyway, but if you get caught don't point your little snitch fingers at me! Neither I, nor FanFiction is responsible for any trouble you get into, potential mental disorders you develop, or any clothes you soil from reading this from start to finish. Enjoy!
Authors Notes: This story is dedicated to a very special female L4D player who has a bit of a fetish with hunters. When I started writing this, I showed it to another female player friend of mine who also found it rather... umm.. inspiring. ;-). My point in sharing this is I better see at least two reviews, one from each of them (hint hint Alexa and Jennifer). For those fans of mine who are reading Double Feature, please know that I'm still writing that story, but I've taken a brief reprieve. In the meantime, enjoy this one-shot!
The hooded leaper smelled it in the air...
He'd been following her for days, the smell of her sweat and blood intoxicating until a brutal rainstorm swept in, swift and fierce, the pounding waters completely obscuring the smell of his prey. When the eye of the storm opened, that familiar smell invaded his infected nostrils once more. She was luckier than her stalker, avoiding the rain by taking refuge in abandoned buildings as she made her way to one of those cursed safe rooms; those damn red doors were the bane to his existence. Of all the survivors he'd tracked, this female was by far the most tenacious when handling her own safety. She left no "i" undotted, no "t" uncrossed when it came to securing her temporary quarters. The soaked hunter watched from atop a tall building, his prey hurrying through the heavily armored door as the rain started up again. She slammed it shut, locking the rain and her assailant outside. Those damn safe rooms were impenetrable...
This time her haste would be her undoing. She was all too eager to escape the rain, performing only a cursory check of the boarded up windows and locked doors. She neglected her usual tenacious checks. This safe room had a wonderful, overlooked flaw.
A broken window.
He licked his chops, his nearly blind eyes narrowing beneath his hoodie as he climbed the drainpipe. At first glance it looked like just another boarded up window, secure and safe. However, the hunter spied the bit of rot eating away at the old window sill. The derelict building lacked proper maintenance, and it was nothing for the strengthened infected to rip up the sash with ease. The hungry hooded male climbed into a small bedroom with an adjacent bathroom. The sound of running water could be heard, along with the quiet hum of his prey from behind the closed door.
She was utterly helpless.
He crept along the bedroom floor, being mindful of the wooden floorboards creaking in protest under his heavy, muscled arms and legs.
The white door was ajar, a light mist escaping through the crack. The survivor's humming continued unabated; she hadn't noticed the deadly company just on the other side. The smell of bath soap hung lightly in the air, hardly obscuring the more pungent aroma that caught his attention. To his left was his prey's clothes, discarded in a pile on the floor.
The hunter sniffed the air, creeping towards the source, the smell of sweat and blood causing him to salivate. He sniffed at her jacket and pants as though wetting his appetite. He burrowed his nose into her clothes, smelling around the way one would smell a finely cooked steak before preparing to tear into it.
Until a rather unfamiliar scent reached the hunter's nostrils.
He paused for a moment, the smell of his prey's panties causing a moment of confusion. The scent was so powerful from the rather skimpy undergarment. The hunter breathed deeply several times before noticing his pants felt tighter than usual. Perhaps the rain had caused his clothes to cling or shrink?
The hunter shook his head. No time for this, he was hungry. He felt a guttural growl begin to rise in his throat, but he suppressed it. He slowly pressed the ajar door open, the heat of the steam assaulting his face, creating droplets on his forehead. Though his eyes no longer functioned like human eyes, his new found viral senses painted a nearly perfect visual interpretation in his mind. Amidst the steam was a tub with a sheer shower curtain drawn, only a silhouette of its occupant could be seen. He licked his chops as he "stared" at the helpless girl's shapely figure though the shower curtain. She was facing away from him, the curves of her body and supple ass looking delicious. The swell of her breasts could be seen as she raised her arms over her head.
He wouldn't get another chance as good as this one.
The hooded predator leaned back on his haunches, feeling his leg muscles tense as he readied to leap. 3... 2... 1...
"Creeaaak," went an errant floorboard.
The showering survivor turned like a startled rabbit. She barely had a chance to swear before the hunter was airborne. The naked girl dove out of the shower onto the floor in a tight roll, ripping the curtain off its rings with a fast "tak tak tak" as the cheap plastic ripped. She scrambled through the open bathroom door. Her pistol was in the bedroom by her clothes, her hand sweeping it up in one motion as she turned on her knees to face her attacker.
The hunter shrieked in frustration as he caught wet air, his startled prey faster than he anticipated. He rebounded off the tile wall, ready to pounce the survivor as she recovered form her roll. She drew her pistol, about to put a round into the hunter's forehead. But as fate would have it, a slight bead of soap fell into her eye. Pain lanced up her eye just as she pulled the trigger.
The hunter never even noticed the astray bullet that whizzed by his hooded ear, ripping the fabric that covered his matted black hair. He slammed down hard on his blinded pray, knocking the gun from her hand and the wind from her lungs.
The naked survivor sucked air as fight or flight decided which one would drive. Fight took the wheel, much to the hunter's dismay. He preferred his prey screaming in terror, pleading and crying, trying to escape. It made that first bite so satisfying. This bitch wriggling beneath him wasn't afraid, she was pissed. She grabbed at his hood, swearing a blue streak as she fought for her life. The hunter grunted as he tried to keep her pinned. He'd heard enough mindless, angry babbling from his commoner brethren. It was going to ruin his appetite.
But he still wanted to play with his food.
The hunter raised one claw as though preparing to slash her throat. Instead he aimed for her face, slapping his pray across the cheek, his claws drawing thin lines of blood. The survivor screamed again, but it still wasn't fear. She kicked her assailant in the groin, throwing him off her. She turned on her belly, attempting to scramble on all fours for the pistol that slid across the hardwood floor. The infected leaper recovered quickly and grabbed the survivor by her thighs, sinking his claws into them and pulling her back just before her fingertips brushed the stock of the pistol, her nails dragging on the hardwood floor as she desperately reached for her 9 millimeter salvation. The survivor had been afraid before, but had always maintained her cool. This time she was terrified; she truly believed the deal was really done.
This hooded freak was going to eat her alive right here, right now.
Her attacker moved into a kneeling position and brought her legs and ass in the air, her upper half sprawled on the floor. She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for death to violently rip her from the world of the living as sure as this infected freak would rip the flesh from her bones.
But her assailiant was strangely still.
She looked over her shoulder, feeling a light tickle near her exposed charms. The hunter still had a death grip on her thighs, but he was sniffing deeply at her exposed crotch. She glowered at the sick freak. These damn things were perverts too? She struggled in his grasp, but the hunter growled loudly and squeezed, a warning that this would be over very quickly if she kept fighting. The soapy suvivor ceased her struggle but shook in fear.
The hunter breathed deeply, the familiar scent he'd detected on her panties coming in stronger still from the patch of furr between his prey's legs. The closer he got, the stronger it was, and the stronger it was, so grew his desire to be smothered by this strange, intoxicating scent. His prey was trembling now, the smell of her fear nearly as strong as the aroma from between her legs. He salivated, the viral voices in his head screaming at him to tear into the uninfected meat and splatter the delicious red nectar everywhere. These voices drowned out everything that was once rational or sane since he'd fallen from humanity. They screamed, "Hunt,Kill, Feed!"
"Hunt... Kill... Feed..."
But another voice could be heard among the cacophony in his shattered mind. It was pleading yet persuasive.
"Taste. Lick. Taste."
The hunter growled low as his prey shook in his hands. He pressed his hooded face into his "food" like a starving man. The hair between his victims legs tickled his chin as he stabbed his tongue into her wet recesses. She tasted so delicious. He resisted the urge to bite, the strange new voice repeating the mantra over and over. His dry cracked lips sealed over the moist pink lips between his victim's legs.
The survivor gasped, frozen in fear. Any minute now he'd rip her apart from the waist first. He'd probably eviscerate her, letting her guts spill on the floor as he feasted on them like raw sausages. It would be brutal and painful, and she only prayed she'd fall unconscious from the pain so that she would not see her own demise.
Instead the hunter licked and sucked at her pussy like a man just out of prison from a twenty year sentence. For a fleeting moment the survivor though this a chance to escape, but the bony protrusions from her molester's fingers squeezing her thighs silenced that notion. The predator's tongue flickered rapidly, stabbed deeply. The stunned survivor breathed heavily, the slow realization dawning on her that she hadn't had an orgasm in a rather long time. She thought only men had that animal-like need to come every so often, but over the weeks of fighting for her life by day and huddling by herself alone at night, her sexual needs had been on the back burner so long they'd practically boil over and scald her by now. She couldn't believe she was even considering this to be a opportunity of sexual release; her very life was in danger and yet her body had responded right away. Her pupils dilated, her head was swimming, her crotch practically on fire. This was so wrong! So fucking wrong and dangerous and bad and dirty and appalling and...
She couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips.
The hunter ceased his ravenous slurping at the new sound. His pray stared vacantly at him, her brown eyes completely unreadable. Brown eyes? Since when did he notice colors? "No time to think about that," the new voice purred inside his head like a demon of lust on his shoulder. It was welcome company compared to the demons of rage and gluttony that normally commanded him.
"Undress. Taste her body."
The hunter flipped the survivor onto her back with a quick twist of his muscular arms. The naked woman yelped, staring at the hooded infected from between her breasts. Her mind was racing. She'd just gotten eaten out by an infected and she was scared out of her mind, but her nipples were rock hard. It was a conundrum of confusion as her own mental voices battled it out in her head. Fight and Flight screamed in her mind. Fight roared, "Kick the bastard in his face," and Flight pleaded, "then run like hell! Fuck your clothes, just get out get out get out!"
However, Reason, the one that'd seen her safely through this hell on earth said, "You're at a disadvantage right now. The only way you'll survive is if you wait for his guard to drop. Give him what he wants."
The hunter noticed his prey relaxing, her tensed muscles slowly softening in his grip. The new voice in his head whispered again, urging:
The survivor watched her captor back away a little, his blind glare more than enough of an incentive not to make a run for it. The hunter ripped his hoodie over his head, exposing a muscled chest covered with battle scars. Dangling between his pecs was a pair of dog tags, suggesting this human-turned-hunter was already a trained killer before the viral transformation. His face was chiseled and hard, his gray complexion doing little to detract from his features. His black hair was matted with rain water, dirt, and sweat, the wet, greasy bangs nearly covering his milky eyes. The survivor suspected hunters were blind, that their screeches were not meant to give away their position, but were necessary as a means of sonar.
The sound of the hunter tearing away his pants broke the survivor's train of thought. How the hell this creature couldn't manage to open a door but undress was another puzzler, but one that would have to wait for later. His calves were wrapped in duct tape and looked proportionally larger than an ordinary human, which explained his kind's ability to leap as far as they did. They were topped by muscular gray thighs that came together at a slender waist and toned stomach. From there, a thin happy trail of black hair led down the infected's off colored skin to a pulsing, throbbing desire that pointed directly at the naked woman beneath like a dog after a fox. She gasped at the sight of the large member, praying it wouldn't split her in half.
A low lustful growl emanated from the infected's throat, barely masking the whimper of fearful acceptance from the survivor.
The hunter lunged forward, pinning the surprised survivor on her back and holding her down by her arms. He ran his tongue over her body, starting just above her dampening sexual garden. Her tummy was firm and soft, the taste of her skin dotted with beads of sweat and pheromones tantalized his taste buds. The tip of his tongue dabbed her belly button, raising goosebumps on her arms. He traced upward to her fleshy globes, licking and suckling as his prey panted beneath him. His clawed hands moved to squeeze her breasts, more out of lust now than to prevent escape. He switched back and forth between the two supple prizes, the taste of her engorged and aroused nipples causing his manhood to twitch and flex as it poked near the survivor's thighs. He licked further up, his tongue tracing over her neck, the taste of fresh sweat fueling this strange new desire.
The gasping survivor closed her eyes, her heart racing faster than it ever had, even more so than the time she'd narrowly dodged an abandoned car hurled at her by one of those huge muscled Tank creatures. She held perfectly still, her conflicted mind struggling with both fear and arousal. The helpless immune knew where this would ultimately end up, and she would be forced to see this through to the end if she wanted to escape this encounter alive. However, what bothered her was that she felt more than a little turned on by all this. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight, or that she hadn't been thrown down and screwed hard since she'd lost her boyfriend to the infection.
For a fleeting moment, he passed through her mind.
He'd been a solider too, strong and resourceful like her if not more so. He was also a dominant beast in the sack. Her favorite encounters were those where she was taken by surprise, her lover forcibly ripping away her clothes and fucking her like a bitch in heat. It was that unknown anticipation coupled with being painfully dominated that was her sexual fetish. She could be cooking in the kitchen, typing on the computer, taking a shower, working out, on the phone with her parents, it didn't matter. Anytime. Anyplace. She was at his sexual mercy and she was expected to service him. And she did. Every time. Every place. With gusto and zeal.
For a split second she saw her boyfriend's face in the hunter's hovering over her. She clenched her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Thinking about him now while pinned helpless beneath this hooded killer would crush her resolve. What was left of her fragmented sanity would be washed away with the pouring rain. If she cried, if she showed weakness, she would surely die. If not by this hunter's claw, then by her own broken heart.
The survivor's shattered mind kicked in its last defense mechanism, the one used only in the most desperate measures to handle mental trauma and pain; to deny reality: Mental Regression.
Quite simply, the survivor dove off the mental deep end.
The naked woman felt her estranged lover pinning her down. She didn't realize her hands were subconsciously running over "his" back, fingertips tracing a line over the bumps of his spine. Her soldier growled contently, his body relaxing atop her. He felt surprisingly warm considering he'd been wearing rain soaked garments for who knew how long. He stank of blood, dirt, and God knew what else, though that was normal after he'd gone through weekend field training. She didn't recall him having field training this weekend, but that had to be it. It was the only reason he'd stink to high heaven and be covered in dirt. She chuckled to herself, her eager lover couldn't even wait to clean himself up first. She slid her hand between their bodies, gently fondling her lover's thick pole.
"Please baby..." she whispered in a sensual voice, one that wasn't hoarse with sickness or haggard from exhaustion, a voice that hadn't been heard in a long time.
The hunter pulled away for a moment, his dog tags jingling over his prey's closed eyes. Though he couldn't understand her language, the meaning behind her plea was as clear as the voice commanding him inside his head.
In one fast motion, he split her apart at the legs and shoved his throbbing pole forward, impaling his victim on himself as he violated her. She screamed in surprise and pain, her own yell matching the hunter's excited signature screech. She grabbed at her lover's muscled arms and hooked her ankles around his ass. It hurt. God it hurt. But it at the same time, it felt so damn good. Her pussy clenched around the new invader that rhythmically slammed into her. Her fingernails drew blood from her lover's triceps and as if in response, he fucked her harder still.
The hunter shrieked as he threw himself into his prey. This new sensation was better than hunting, better than feeding. His victim screamed, just as he liked, but it wasn't the same as when he would prepare to feast on a helpless survivor. No, this scream was frightened yet excited. He felt her nails dig into his arms as he fucked her right into the floor, her tits shaking from his hard pounding. His willing captive's legs hook around his ass, pulling him into her. It was very confusing; prey was always struggling to get away, not get even closer.
"Ahh... haah... yes baby! Fuck me! Harder! Please! Hurt me!" she cried out, thrusting her hips back to meet him.
The hunter growled in frustration. She was moving on her own as though trying to buck him off her, and her babbling was irritating. He squeezed at her chest, drawing blood from her smooth skin. She screamed in pain, but fucked back harder. He roared at her, fucking her so hard he stole her breath. He didn't want her to talk, didn't want her to move. He wanted this new experience served up with his favorite seasonings: Fear and submission.
The survivor coughed and gasped, fresh blood running down her tummy. Her lover's sweat mingled within her wounds, the stinging making her salivate between her legs. She moaned like a shameless whore, no longer trying to fuck back. The painful lacerations on her tits were warning enough. Her lover had made it perfectly clear she was to lay there and take this, to take everything he had and still beg for more. Her lover's tempo quickened, the ridges of his cock touching every crevice within her. He was getting close, his ragged breaths growing more urgent. His dog tags gently slapped at her cheek, a droplet of sweat hanging onto the corner. She bit down on the metal, the coppery taste mixed with sweat bringing submissive fantasy to the edge. His sheath rubbed against her engorged clit, calling forth a powerful shared orgasm.
The hunter shrieked in triumph, an eruption exploding out of him as their cataclysmic coupling reached its peak. His claws dug into her shoulders and his ass clenched as he pinned her to the floor. Rope after rope of his pent up aggression was ripped from him by his prey's squeezing muscles. He collapsed on top of her, purring in her ear. Within his infected mind, there was something amiss... the cacophonous call of the voices had fallen silent. For the first time he felt no desire to kill. For the first time he felt... relaxed.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck meeeeeeeeaaaagggghhh!" She screamed, releasing the metal ID tags as her lover's hot seed filled her belly. Her head was swimming, spots flashing before her clenched eyes. She couldn't remember her lover ever fucking her so hard and being so rough, he'd actually drawn blood. It hurt but it was such a turn on. She felt dizzy, her mind slowly drifting into blissful slumber. She held her man tightly as he purred in her ear like a content lion. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion as sleep wrestled control from her. "No... I want... more..." she pleaded as she vainly fought to stay awake. She was so worn out, but she was so horny. It wasn't fair. When would she ever see her lover again but in dreams...?
The rain continued to fall outside, a loud crack of thunder interrupting the peaceful pitter-patter. The survivor awakened with a startled gasp, sitting upright on the hardwood floor. All was silent save the sound of steadily running water from the forgotten shower. She groaned in pain and confusion. She was covered in scarred-over scratches and claw marks, purple splotches adorned her body like a bruised apple.
"What.. what the hell happened?" She asked herself. Her fragmented memory tried to piece together the important things first: Where was she? What time was it? She spotted an open window, the dark gray sky pouring rain into a small spot on the hardwood floor. She remembered she'd escaped the storm when she found the safe room. She remembered checking every area of the secured building for any unwelcome company. She found the place still had running water and electricity, so she decided to take a much needed shower upstairs. She had stripped and started scrubbing herself down, then...
She gasped as she remembered the hunter that attacked her. He'd chased her out of the shower and tackled her when she went for her gun. From there she had a hard time remembering exactly what had happened. She looked over her naked form, wincing from some of her new found injuries. It must've been one heck of a fight, she had claw marks and bruises everywhere. Her entire body felt sore, even parts she didn't think would be after a fight. She must've passed out after she'd driven him off. She vaguely recalled dreaming about her late boyfriend, blushing as bits and pieces of the sexual dream returned to her. Though she couldn't remember everything, it must have been one hell of a dream. Her face turned bright red as she felt the matted garden between her legs; she'd actually came in her sleep!
The stunned survivor walked shakily over to her clothes. Gathering them in her arms, she shambled into the bathroom and began to dress her wounds in front of the bathroom mirror. Once that was done she pulled on her damp clothing. She sighed sadly as one particular scene from her dream seemed to play over and over in her mind. It was the face of her lost boyfriend smiling at her as he fucked her, his dog tags dangling from his neck and slapping her face. She'd bit them as their mutual orgasm arrived. The dream was so surreal, so vivid.
But it was still just a dream.
She sighed, bringing her shirt over her head. She looked herself over once more in the mirror, the tired face staring back at her with a look of cold determination. Much as she wanted to rest, she knew the only one to get her through this nightmare would be herself, and that time was not on her side. Another sigh escaped her lips as she turned away.
Until a glint of metal caught her eye.
The survivor turned back to the mirror, noticing a metal chain hanging from her neck that wasn't there before. She pulled the chain up from beneath her shirt, exposing a pair of dog tags with a bent corner.
It couldn't be...
She sprinted over to the window, sticking her head out into the pouring rain. She scanned the desolate remains of the city for someone, anyone.
Off in the distance, she spotted what she swore was a hooded figure watching her from atop an adjacent building. She blinked, some errant rainwater in her eyes obscuring the distant watcher.
She quickly rubbed her eyes on her sleeve, but when her vision cleared the figure was gone. Echoing across the city, a faint yet familiar screech reached the survivor's ears, the distant cry barely audible above the falling rain.
A/N: Do tell me what you think with reviews! Anonymous is enabled.