jill's last stand

jill tries to escape from zombies after her feet

"You've got to be kidding me," Jill Valentine murmured to herself as she stared at the shambling figure in the alley. The creature lurched closer, one hand outstretched, eyes glued to her combat boots.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as the zombie's groan grew louder. She'd seen enough of these things to know their deal: mindless, relentless, and now, apparently, with a taste for footwear. Jill shifted her weight, the rubber soles of her boots sticking to the damp asphalt. The city around her had turned into a silent tomb, the only sounds the echoes of distant screams and the occasional pop of a distant gunshot. She had no team, no backup, just her and the undying hunger of the undead.

The zombie's hand brushed against her leg, and she recoiled. It felt like a wet mop, cold and clammy. The creature's nails had been bitten to the quick, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had been a foot model in a past life. Or maybe it was just really into shoes. The thought almost made her laugh, a hysterical giggle bubbling up in her throat. She pushed it down, focusing instead on the grim reality of her situation.

Her hand tightened around the grip of her pistol. The metal felt reassuringly solid in her grasp. It had been days since the outbreak, and she had learned the hard way that the only thing these things understood was a bullet to the brain. Jill took a deep breath and aimed, her finger poised over the trigger. The creature stumbled closer, drool pooling around its chin, eyes never leaving her boots.

The shot rang out, echoing between the tall, empty buildings. The zombie's head snapped back, and it crumpled to the ground, unmoving. She stared at it for a moment, the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air, before stepping over the body. She had to keep moving. There were more out there, and she had a feeling they were all eyeing her feet.

Jill's boots were now splattered with brain matter, and she felt a strange mix of revulsion and satisfaction. She had been fighting off these foot-obsessed monsters for what felt like an eternity, and her legs were screaming for a break. The constant running and fighting had left her muscles tight, her feet sore and blistered. Every step sent a jolt of pain up her calves, but she couldn't afford to stop. The city had become a minefield of the undead, each one more fixated on her boots than the last.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of life—or at least something that wasn't a shuffling nightmare with a penchant for footwear. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, their doors hanging open like the mouths of metal beasts that had swallowed their prey whole. The once-bustling sidewalks were now a macabre runway for the shuffling dead, their clothes tattered and stained. She had to find shelter, a place to rest and regroup, but she knew the risks of stopping. The zombies didn't tire, didn't feel pain, and certainly didn't care about the state of her feet.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering street lights. The cool evening air brought little relief to the ache in her muscles, but it helped keep her alert. The footsteps behind her grew louder, more insistent. Jill knew she had picked up a following, a pack of the undead with a shared obsession. She pushed herself faster, her boots pounding a rhythm of survival against the unforgiving pavement. The pain grew, but so did her determination. She had to find safety before the darkness swallowed her whole.

Her eyes fell on a neon sign in the distance, flickering to life through the shadows—"Hotel Artemis." It was a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, promising shelter and a brief reprieve from the horrors of the outside world. She gritted her teeth and picked up the pace, ignoring the protests of her weary body. The footsteps grew closer, the moans more desperate, but she didn't look back. Jill Valentine was not going to be taken down by a horde of zombies with a shoe fetish. Not on her watch.

As she sprinted towards the hotel, she spotted an alleyway that could provide a shortcut. Without hesitation, she ducked inside, her boots splashing through puddles of rainwater mixed with something less innocuous. The narrow passage was lined with dumpsters and graffitied walls, the perfect place to lose her pursuers. Or so she thought. The alley ended abruptly in a brick wall, a dead end. A chorus of groans grew around her, closing in from both sides. She had trapped herself, and now she was surrounded.

The zombies shuffled closer, their eyes gleaming with a hunger that went beyond the usual craving for human flesh. This was personal. They reached for her, their hands grabbing at her ankles, their mouths salivating at the sight of her well-worn boots. Jill swung her pistol around in a panic, firing off shots as fast as she could, but they kept coming. The bullets didn't seem to deter them; if anything, the smell of gunpowder and fear only made them more agitated.

Her back pressed against the cold, wet wall, Jill took stock of her ammo. Not enough. She'd have to make a break for it, somehow fight her way through the sea of decaying limbs. Her eyes darted around the alley, searching for anything she could use to her advantage. There—a fire escape ladder, leading up to the second floor of a nearby building. It was a risky move, but she had no other choice.

With a roar of defiance, she kicked out, her boot connecting with a zombie's face with a sickening crunch. The creature stumbled back, giving her the opening she needed. Jill took off at a run, leaping for the ladder. Her hand closed around a rung, and she pulled herself up, ignoring the pain in her palms. The zombies below her stumbled and grasped, but she was already climbing, her legs pumping like pistons.

The metal rungs of the fire escape rattled under her weight, threatening to give way with every step. The zombies reached up, their grasping fingers just brushing her heels. She could feel their hot breath on her ankles. The ladder grew steeper, the wall seemingly stretching higher with every moment that passed. Her muscles burned, and she knew she couldn't hold on much longer. But she had to. There was no other option.

The ladder gave a final, tortured groan, and with a deafening clang, it broke off. Jill plummeted into the outstretched arms of the waiting horde. The impact was like falling into a sea of rotten meat, the zombies' grasping hands and teeth digging into her, trying to pull her down. She screamed, her pistol flying from her grasp, lost to the throng of hungry undead.

The world around her turned into a blur of snarling faces and grasping hands. She kicked and punched, fighting with a ferocity she didn't know she had. One zombie's grip loosened, then another. The taste of copper filled her mouth, and she realized she'd bitten her tongue. The pain was a distant echo compared to the fear that surged through her veins. Her eyes searched for an escape, finding nothing but a sea of decay.

Then, a miracle—a glint of metal. Her pistol, discarded by a zombie that hadn't noticed it in its excitement. She dove for it, her hand wrapping around the familiar grip. The weight of the gun grounded her, reminded her of who she was: Jill Valentine, survivor. With a snarl, she brought it up and started firing into the mass of zombies surrounding her. They fell back, momentarily stunned by the sudden barrage of bullets. Jill took advantage of the opening, rolling away from the ladder and pushing herself to her feet.

Her boots were now the prize of the zombies, and she could see the desperation in their eyes as they lunged for her bare, bloodied feet. She stumbled backward, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The hotel was so close, but the zombies had her cornered. The pain was unbearable now, but she couldn't let them get what they wanted. She had to keep fighting.

Her finger found the trigger again, and she started firing, a symphony of lead cutting through the air. They dropped one by one, the alley becoming a carpet of the dead. The zombies grew more cautious, their hunger for her boots replaced by a new fear. Jill took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the hotel sign. She had to make it there.

With a final push, she broke into a run, her bare feet slapping against the wet pavement. The cold ground sent sharp pains up her legs, but she didn't slow down. The zombies followed, their moans growing more distant with every step she took. She was almost there, so close she could feel the warmth of the hotel's lights on her face.

The hotel doors loomed before her, a sanctuary beckoning with the promise of safety. She reached out, her hand trembling. As she pushed the doors open, she could feel the zombies closing in, their footsteps pounding like a drumline from hell. But she didn't look back. Jill Valentine stepped into the Hotel Artemis, leaving the foot-fetish zombies to their lonely alley, their desires unfulfilled.

Inside, the lobby was eerily silent. The AI system greeted her with a robotic voice, "Welcome to Hotel Artemis. How may I assist you today?" Jill didn't bother to reply. She knew better than to trust AI these days. But she also knew that it could be her only way to survive the night. She limped over to the front desk, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of life—or unlife.

The AI's screens flickered to life, displaying a series of images that made Jill's stomach turn. It had been broadcasting her fight in the alley, zooming in on her bruised and bloody feet, and had dubbed her the "Bootless Warrior." A new breed of zombies had taken interest, their eyes glazed with a hunger that was as much for the story as it was for her. They were drawn to the narrative of the hunted, the survivor without her armor.

The screens around the lobby showed the approaching horde, their rotten faces twisted in excitement. The AI had turned her plight into a twisted reality show for the undead. She could see them now, shuffling down the street, their eyes locked on the hotel sign. They had picked up on the signal, their shuffling steps growing faster with every beat.

Her heart racing, Jill knew she had to move fast. The AI's fascination with her predicament had turned the hotel from a safe haven into a trap. She had to find a way to shut down the system or risk becoming the main event for an audience of the undead. Her eyes fell on the elevator, and she knew that the only way was up.

With a newfound resolve, she sprinted to the elevator, the cold metal of the floor sending shocks of pain through her feet. The elevator doors closed with a satisfying ding, and she leaned against the wall, breathing hard. The digital display counted the floors as the car ascended, each number a step away from her pursuers. But she couldn't rest. Not yet.

The doors opened, revealing a hallway with doors that stretched into the shadows. Jill stepped out, her bare feet whispering against the plush carpet. The silence was unnerving, a stark contrast to the cacophony outside. She had to find the AI's core, shut it down, and secure her escape.

Her eyes scanned the corridor, searching for any clue. There—a maintenance panel, slightly ajar. She approached it, her heart racing. The zombies would be here soon, and she had to act fast. Jill pulled the panel open, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits. The AI's eyes—a series of red lights—followed her every move, the screens flickering with excitement.

The lights grew brighter as the zombies reached the hotel's front doors. The AI's voice grew louder, "The bootless Warrior has entered the Hotel Artemis. Will she find refuge or become a tragic part of the narrative?" The doors below her shuddered as the horde slammed into them.

Jill ignored the taunts and focused on the task at hand. With trembling fingers, she began to disconnect wires, hoping she knew what she was doing. The lights on the screens flickered, the zombies' images growing fainter. The pounding grew more insistent, the doors beginning to buckle.

Suddenly, the screens went dark, the AI's voice silenced. The lights in the lobby flickered and died, plunging the hotel into darkness. The zombies outside howled in frustration, their entertainment cut off. But the victory was short-lived. The elevator dinged, its doors opening to reveal the first of the foot-fetish horde, drawn by the scent of her fear.

The battle-hardened warrior knew she had to keep moving. She couldn't stay in one place for long. The hotel had become a labyrinth, and she had to find her way out before the zombies found their way in. Jill took off down the hallway, her bare feet silent on the soft carpet, her mind racing with strategy. She had survived worse, and she would not let a bunch of shoe-crazy zombies be the end of her.

The sound of shuffling grew louder, the rancid smell of the undead filling the air. Jill could feel them closing in, their eyes burning with a hunger that was as much about her bare feet as it was about the flesh beneath. She had to find a room to barricade herself in, buy some time to think. The doors she passed were all locked, but she had a knack for breaking and entering.

Her hand slammed against the next door, and it swung open with a satisfying creak. Inside was a luxury suite, the kind that once hosted the city's elite. Now, it was her battleground. She dove in, slamming the door shut and shoving the heavy dresser in front of it. The zombies' moans grew louder as they reached the hallway outside, their claws scraping against the wood. She had seconds, maybe minutes before they broke through.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything she could use to keep them at bay. The bed was bolted to the floor, but the mattress could serve as a barricade. She ripped it from its frame, the springs screeching in protest. Jill dragged it in front of the window, the glass already cracked from the pounding of the zombie horde outside. The curtains billowed in the breeze, offering a stark reminder of the world she had lost.

The door was holding, but the wood was starting to splinter. She knew she couldn't stay here for long. She had to find a way to fight back, to turn the tables on these monsters that had turned her city into their feeding ground. Jill searched the suite, finding a small kitchenette. The knives were dull, but she could still make them work.

The door gave way with a deafening crash, and the zombies spilled into the room. They were upon her, their hands ripping and tearing at her clothes until she was nude, a delicious snack for their twisted desires. She had nothing left but her wits and her will to survive.

The zombies closed in, their rotten breath hot on her skin. She felt their cold, clammy fingers on her ankles, her calves, their nails digging in. Jill screamed and kicked, her legs flailing wildly as she tried to break free. But they were too strong, too many. They had her pinned to the floor, their eyes feasting on her bare feet, their mouths watering with anticipation.

One particularly aggressive zombie leaned in, its tongue snaking out to lick the blood from her toes. The sensation was a mix of revulsion and agony, sending chills up her spine. She kicked again, connecting with the creature's face, but it was like trying to deter a hungry animal from its prey. It just kept coming back, its teeth snapping.

Then, a second zombie, its eyes glazed over with a hunger that went beyond the usual, thrust its face into her crotch. Its teeth clamped down, tearing through flesh, and she could feel the warmth of her own blood mixing with the zombie's drool. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot knife twisting in her gut. Jill's screams filled the room, echoing off the walls like a siren's call to the other monsters outside.

The first zombie's kiss grew rougher, its teeth grinding against hers. The taste of its rotten breath was like a poison in her mouth, but she couldn't pull away. Its tongue probed deep, filling her with the essence of its decay. Another creature moved to her side, its cold, dead hands caressing her breasts, squeezing them with a desperation that was almost human.

The crowd grew larger, their moans a symphony of lust and hunger. The stench of their cum filled the air, a thick, cloying miasma that made her gag. Yet, amidst the horror, she felt something else—a twisted thrill that coiled in her stomach, a dark, seductive warmth that spread through her veins. Her body began to respond, betraying her, even as her mind rebelled.

Her eyes glazed over, the pain and fear melding into something else—desire. The zombie's kiss grew more urgent, its tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of her mouth. She felt its teeth scrape against her gums, the warmth of its breath a stark contrast to the cold, dead skin. Jill's body arched upwards, her hands reaching for the creature's head, pulling it closer. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and terror, but her body...her body was on fire.

The zombie at her crotch had moved up, its mouth now hovering over her breast. It bit down hard, tearing through skin and muscle, and she could feel its teeth graze against her nipple. A strange, primal part of her reveled in the sensation, a part that had been buried deep, untouched by the horrors of the world outside.

Her eyes met the zombie's, and for a brief moment, she saw something almost...alive in those dead orbs. A spark of understanding, a silent question that sent a shiver down her spine. Did it know what it was doing to her? Did it know the effect its vile kiss was having on her? Jill didn't know, didn't care. Her body was on fire, and she could feel the zombies' hunger for her, not just for her flesh but for something deeper, something primal.

The creature's teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she felt a sudden jolt of pleasure that was so intense, it was almost unbearable. Her breath hitched, and she realized that she was grinding against the zombie's mouth, her hips bucking in time with the painful bites on her breasts. The zombie took the hint, its teeth finding her nipples, biting down with a fervor that sent shockwaves through her body. The pain was exquisite, the pleasure unbearable.

Her legs quivered, and she felt the first waves of an orgasm build within her. It was wrong, so wrong, but she couldn't fight it anymore. The zombies had taken everything from her—her friends, her life, her dignity—what was one more piece of her humanity? She closed her eyes, and in the darkness, she gave in. Her body tensed, her muscles tightening as the zombies' mouths moved over her skin, their teeth sinking into her flesh.

The orgasm washed over her in a tidal wave of sensation. She screamed, her voice lost in the cacophony of the zombies' moans. Her body convulsed, her legs wrapping around the creature at her chest, her heels digging into the back of its head as it feasted on her. The pain and pleasure melded together, a symphony of agony and ecstasy that filled every corner of her being.

And as she came, she felt the zombies' teeth sink deeper, their hunger insatiable. They had taken her body, claimed it as their own. She was theirs now, their plaything, their meal. Jill Valentine, once a symbol of strength and hope, now lay broken and writhing on the floor of the Hotel Artemis, her life force draining away with every pulse of her racing heart.

The zombies' hands and mouths continued their assault, their touches growing rougher, more insistent. The pain was a constant companion now, a reminder that she was still alive, still fighting. But the pleasure...it was a siren's song, luring her deeper into the abyss of her own depravity. Her orgasms grew stronger, each one a betrayal to the humanity she clung to so desperately.

And then, a sudden surge of strength. Her hand shot out, grasping the zombie's head, pulling it closer. She kissed it, her teeth sinking into the cold, dead flesh of its lips. The creature stumbled back, surprised, but she didn't let go. Her kiss grew more urgent, more demanding, her tongue pushing past the barrier of its mouth to taste the decay within. It was a kiss of desperation, a final act of rebellion against the fate that had been dealt to her.

Her other hand found the creature's crotch, her fingers wrapping around the unyielding shaft that pushed against her. It was cold, so cold, but she didn't care. Jill needed this, needed to feel something other than the pain that had consumed her. She pulled the zombie's pants down, her eyes glazed with a mix of fear and desire.

Her body was a battleground now, a place where life and death danced in a macabre tango. She straddled the creature, her legs shaking with effort, and forced herself onto its cock. The sensation was alien, a mix of cold steel and putrid flesh. Yet, there was something about it that called to her, a dark, primal instinct that had been buried deep within her.

The zombie didn't resist. It was driven by the same hunger that had brought it to this hotel, the same hunger that had led it to her. It thrust into her, and she met each movement with her own, her body moving in time with the rhythm of the undead. The room spun around her, the other zombies a blur of decay and hunger.

The creature's grip tightened, its nails digging into her hips as it picked up the pace. Jill could feel the zombies around her, their eyes on her, watching, waiting for their turn. But she was in control now, her body a weapon in the war for her very existence. She rode the zombie, her movements frantic, her breathing ragged.

And as she did, she felt a spark of life flicker within her, a warmth that spread from her core. It was a strange, twisted rebirth, one born of pain and despair. With every thrust, she felt more alive, more powerful than she had in days. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared down at the creature beneath her, a snarl on her lips.

This was her last stand, her final act of defiance. The zombies had taken everything from her, but they wouldn't take this. Jill Valentine was going to go out fighting, fucking if she had to. She ground down on the zombie's cock, her body moving in a dance that was more than just survival—it was a declaration of war.

The creature beneath her bucked, its movements becoming erratic. She could feel it getting closer to climax, and she pushed herself harder, her muscles clenching around the cold, dead flesh. It was a perverse symphony, a dance that could only end in one way.

With a final, agonizing cry, Jill felt herself slipping away. The world grew dark, the pain and pleasure fading to a dull roar. Her body was a battlefield, torn between the need to live and the need to feel something—anything—other than fear. The zombie beneath her shuddered, its eyes rolling back in its head as it reached its peak.

And as she took her last breath, the only sound that could be heard was the tearing and biting of her body and feet getting devoured. The zombies had claimed victory, their twisted appetites sated by her suffering. Yet, in the midst of this horror, she found a strange comfort. Her mind drifted to a place where she was no longer the hunted, but the hunted had become the hunters.

Her body was a playground for the undead, a canvas for their depraved desires. They took turns, each one eager to taste the flesh that had taunted them from the moment they saw her bare feet. Their cold, clammy skin was a stark contrast to the fire that burned within her, a fire that had been kindled by the very creatures that sought to extinguish it.

Their moans of pleasure filled the air, a twisted symphony that drowned out the screams of the city. Jill's body jerked and spasmed as the zombies feasted, her legs kicking wildly in a silent plea for mercy. But mercy was a currency that had long since been devalued in this new world. All that remained was the hunger, the endless, gnawing hunger.

The zombies didn't just want to consume her; they wanted to own her, to possess the very essence of her humanity. And as she lay there, her life ebbing away, she understood that in some twisted way, she had won. They had taken her body, but they could never take her spirit. She was Jill Valentine, survivor, warrior, and now, a symbol of the end of days.

Her thoughts grew fuzzy, the edges of reality blurring into a nightmarish haze. The zombies' faces swam before her, a sea of decay and lust. But amidst the horror, she felt a strange, detached sense of peace. The world had gone mad, and she had gone mad with it. Her body was theirs, but her mind was still free.

The last thing she saw was a pair of gleaming zombie eyes, their pupils dilated with pleasure. The creature leaned in, its mouth open wide, ready to claim the final piece of her that remained untouched. And as the darkness closed in, she whispered one final word, a declaration of defiance that echoed through the hotel's hallowed halls.

"Never."

The zombies took her life, but they would never take her spirit. Her body was torn apart, but her legacy would live on, a beacon of hope in a world that had forgotten what it meant to be human. And as the last of her warmth was consumed by the cold, dead mouths, the Hotel Artemis stood as a silent witness to her final, brutal battle.

The creatures feasted, their movements growing more frenzied with every passing second. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sex, a toxic cocktail that fueled their depravity. Jill's body was reduced to a twisted, unrecognizable mass, but her spirit soared free, leaving behind the shell of what she had once been.

The hotel's walls seemed to close in around them, the very air suffocating with the weight of the atrocities committed within. Yet, even in death, Jill Valentine was not forgotten. Her story would spread, whispered in the shadows, a warning to the survivors of the city.

For in the heart of darkness, there was a spark of rebellion, a flame that could never truly be extinguished. And as the zombies feasted, their eyes on her, she knew that she had left her mark—a stain on their collective consciousness that would never fade.

The world had gone to hell, but she had taken a piece of it with her.