Sierra
"You can't get enough of his black ass, can you?" -Gary.
Survival Instinct: Sierra
by [Hammerstroke](%5C)
It wasn't that Sierra actually enjoyed hitting corpses with her shovel - more that she found the sound intriguing. Over time the vixen had come to realize that it didn't sound like hitting a corpse at all, but rather a sandbag. With bones. And blood. If the corpse was lying down or she could get enough leverage Sierra would use the razor edges instead of the flat side, and those went through like a scalpel through flesh, predictably, providing that there weren't any defects in the shovel.
This time, the shovel wasn't sliding out nearly as easily.
Sierra pulled. No luck.
"Oh, no, c'mon, don't do this to me," she prayed, and braced herself against the body, pulled harder. Talk about intriguing sounds, she'd never heard a shovel shatter inside flesh before being sucked out, creating a veritable flesh vacuum and a disturbing slorp!
"Aw, fuck," Sierra cursed, wiping the sweat off her brow..
Gary looked over. "What now?"
His fur was slick with grease. She studied him for a second before explaining, "My shovel's broken." She sighed, and held her weapon high; what few rays of sun there were glinted off the shattered head. Bits of broken skull fell to the ground by her feet.
"So?"
Sierra flipped him off. Alex spoke up.
"Don't get her started, Gary."
"It's a shovel!"
"It's her shovel," Alex corrected.
Sierra ignored them and turned to the corpse lying at her paws. Bludgeoned, missing a limb here and there. Stank, but what else was new? Lying there, deceptively still - she wouldn't dare believe it, but it hadn't moved yet. Almost mocking her, playing at the fact that it didn't have to see another sunrise over a helpless situation, even if it was partly the corpse's fault.
Its fault...
A sudden fury coursed through her arteries, the thumping of war drums matching her heartbeat. The shovel fell to the ground with a CLANG ; she barely heard it.
" Mother -" she snarled, and kicked the body in the ribs, once, twice, again, with her good leg's paw. Each kick left a new bone sticking out of the monster's chest, and once a sliver of steel shooting out the other side, remnants of her shovel. Sierra panted, and fell to her knees, wiping sweat from her forehead. The humidity was worse than the blood, as far as she could figure. It was almost as bad as the smell.
She heard Alex walking towards her, bringing her out of her fantasy and, momentarily, into another, one fairly more erotic.
"You okay?" he asked.
She turned and slumped, didn't answer, watching her fantasy float away.
Harsh reality time again.
"We should head for that ridge," Alex pointed out. His voice was deep and rough. "Higher ground..." He looked skyward. "...and maybe some cover."
It looked like rain: just what Sierra needed in this abysmal humidity. Well, okay, that was a little harsh. The first little patters swept about them, little more than a drizzle. In fact, as the flecks of blood dripped clean off her face they took little flecks of heat with them, and despite the blackening cloud cover Sierra turned to the sky and spread her arms, embracing a little bit of nature in this freak world -
CRACKboom
Sierra scowled. Today just was not her day; perhaps tomorrow. She looked back at the other two, only in time to watch Gary's spotted backside (the part his so-called coveralls, tattered and torn, didn't cover) fade around a corner. Alex stopped and turned around, waiting for her with look of impatience. She knew they should head for higher ground. She had more experience needing higher ground than the two of them put together ... not that that was something to be proud of, she supposed, but she was stronger for it, one of the reasons she hadn't simply given up and died like the rest of 'em, or worse.
"Hurry up." It wasn't an order, but it wasn't a suggestion either. Sierra pouted. Her legs and especially her paw hurt from her most recent corpse thrashing.
Alex sighed, dramatically, something she saw more than heard. It was turning into full fledged rain, and soon it would be a storm. More lightning off in the distance. He spread his arms like she had, but... No smile on his muzzle. "You want to get stuck out in this?"
CRACKboom
"You want to get stuck in that?" He pointed.
Sexy voice, even when he was verging on angry. His black fur shined in the lightning, highlighting his strong, healthy body. I'll give you something to get stuck in, she thought idly, but all that passed her muzzle was a faint, "Yeah, I know..." The vixen's fur was getting soaked again, anyways. Maybe some shelter would be nice after all.
Of course, that would mean flushing out fleshies first. Gary was waiting for them, some thirty feet from what looked like something that could've been a house some long time ago. Scorch marks raced out from a window and up the roof. Most of the siding was soot black. And it looked like there might have once been a balcony where there remained only splintered timbers. Hell, the fact that it was still standing at all was something to thankful for.
And this was the safest looking building around? Sierra figured this was asking for trouble.
Alex tightened his grip on the blackened barrel of his dearest. Lightning arced behind the structure, throwing it and them into shadow, followed quickly by deafening thunder rolling along the barren ridge. More rain. As they approached the door, Gary and Sierra wordlessly stepped back, leaving the ripped black skunk to do his thing.
It was quiet and dark inside the house: the only sound came from the thunder and the patter of rain on the roof; the only light came from the lightning flaring up every few moments. Nothing moved, but something bumped against the door. "Must be locked," floated in through the wood. Another bump, this one louder. Then there was a loud burst, a flurry of splinters as Alex kicked the door off its hinges, sent it tumbling inwards. The skunk massaged the trigger of his shotgun and slowly stepped in.
The trio was thrown into darkness. Alex molded in so well with the black that even Sierra's vixen eyes had trouble following him - a black shadow on black shadows. Beside her Gary's glowing eyes floated at head height, seemingly without a body. The house smelled of burnt carpet, plastic, charcoal, flesh.
No matter how often she smelled it, burnt flesh was nauseating.
The skunk sighed and clicked on his flashlight. The beam was dim, old, tired. With it Alex could only light up the areas right in front of them; the darkness suddenly became a black fog with about a five foot visibility.
"Fuck it," he growled, clicking it off, and Sierra wondered where the hell they'd find new batteries.
He motioned them forward through the landing.
Two staircases: they appeared to lead to the top floor and the basement. With the black skunk leading they chose the lower stairs, each creaking uncertainly under their weight: Alex was the heaviest; if he didn't fall in then they ought to be fine. The stairs numbered six but felt like a hundred. Sierra felt her heart hammering by the time she set paw on burnt concrete. She wiped her forehead, she felt grimy and sweaty. It didn't help that every second step had threatened to make her lose her balance.
And the hot humidity had never really gone away either.
Through the den, around the corner, into the storage room. Nothing here either, except a shattered television and half a fold out couch - the good part.
"Call it," Gary whispered before Sierra could react. She scowled. It was a dead end, and Alex decided there was nothing dangerous in here - aside from themselves, of course - and they backtracked.
Through the den, down a hall.
Alex, for being a massively built animal, tread lighter than the rest of them, and certainly quieter than Gary - Gary's leopard claws had cut through the toes of his boots and scratched the concrete floor with every step, which made no sense, she figured, since leopards usually hunted with stealth. But there he went, making more noise than she. Sierra had never really gotten used to that, either - they ought to be proud of the fact that they were still alive, still even able to make noise, but no matter where she went it seemed like Sierra was forced to hide and shut up. It was disorienting.
But, thankfully, through the quiet, they heard it - shallow, ragged breathing. Alex cocked his shotgun, braced his arms, and kicked the next door in.
Nothing. No, wait. It reeked in there. Alex, although he hid it very well, was having trouble breathing too - Sierra could tell.
Flesh was decaying in the room. He waited three feet away from the door for a few moments till he was sure nothing was going to come charging out at them. What ever it else may have been, it was immobile.
"Grab my flashlight, Sierra." His paws were full. The light clicked on, and it fell on a corpse in the corner. The thing was absolutely rotten. Rusted blood covered most of its body; it was missing large patches of fur, here and there, and where there was fur it was stained. It also happened to be missing a hind limb.
Alex's finger rested on the trigger as they watched, silent. Once the creature noticed them it hissed and tried to roll over but its remaining limbs seemed broken. It scratched pathetically at the concrete, trying desperately to reach them. Alex apparently decided the thing was not going to eat them in the next few moments and lowered the shotgun slightly.
"That's ... Fuck, I'm gonna be sick," Gary muttered, turning around and dry-heaving into a corner. Sierra ignored him.
"It's ... it's a dog, I think." True that: the thing appeared to once have been a canine of some sort, at least, though now its features were distorted and grotesque. The dog's fangs were elongated and razor sharp, at least nine inches each and protruding at slightly odd angles; its eyes had turned to red slits. It hadn't had any meat in weeks, perhaps: its stomach was non-existent and its ribs were pressing so hard against its skin that they threatened to tear slits across its chest.
And, Sierra noted, though she made no mention of it, it appeared to have had its genitals shot off. She winced, and closed her eyes.
She heard Alex tread into the room. "No! Alex ... I mean, let me."
He looked at her, and though black on black she was sure he was raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
She looked at her boots. "I need to give my shovel a proper burial," she mumbled.
Alex growled. "This isn't something to joke about, Sierra. This thing," he spat, turning back to it, "isn't a trophy kill. You don't hesitate, you shoot it!" And he raised the shotgun.
"Wait! It's ... uh ... a waste of ammo!"
Alex sighed, and stood aside. Sierra stepped foot inside the room; like the creature locked inside, its walls were stained with blood, and even the ceiling stank.
"Hold these."
Sierra passed the skunk her bag and the lamp. She reached for her shovel and raised it above the monster's head, with its sharp, shattered edge gleaming feebly in the weakening flashlight. With a snarl she drove the blade through the likely fractured skull. Instantly the creature stopped writhing and reaching for them. Sierra pushed harder, digging it as deep as she could, then let go slowly, making sure her dead warrior could stand upright.
"Boo-hoo," she heard Gary mimic; she fingered him over her shoulder. She did blink away a sudden wetness... A long history.
It was a moment before she noticed that the flashlight had died as well.
The basement seemed now empty, besides the trio. With Alex once more in the lead they ventured upstairs, although with no more confidence than before. As he stuck his head above the floor Alex aimed his shotgun and looked around. There was no more ragged breathing, no thump-thump-thump of bloodied stump legs rushing across the blackened floor at them.
Such a shame. They found some food in the cupboards (they'd long since learned not to touch fridges without power,) and a couple of un-burnt cushions; Alex had since gone down and propped the door back up, and with Sierra's help they braced some furniture between it and the stairs.
"You still want that half-a-couch downstairs, Gary?" Sierra joked, sweating from the heavy lifting, dropping the last of the cushions on the living room floor. Alex left to explore some more.
The leopard shook his head and resumed cleaning his wrench. A lifetime ago, Gary had once been a vehicle mechanic, even though Sierra could barely remember a lifetime ago. His skills had yet to come in handy but, as he often insisted, "You guys'll need me the moment we find an Ape or something."
Yeah, useless so far, though she understood the wrench. It was her shovel, but it wasn't Alex's shotgun. Shovels and wrenches weren't really made for defense but theirs had risen spectacularly to the challenge, her shovel perhaps more so than his wrench, due to a longer reach. Of course, he still had his wrench. And Alex still had his shotgun, though his ammunition was probably running low.
"Hey, Alex. You find anything?"
He had returned from the bathroom. "Not much, mostly just a lot of pills. These people were quite the poppers. I can't even pronounce half of them." He stared at a couple of the labels, shook his head, "But, I found these!" He held up three little bars of soap. Normal, everyday soap, probably cheap stuff, too.
White gold. Sierra stared, a little dreamy-eyed, but before she could open her muzzle Gary cried, "Call it!"
" Fuck!" she shrieked, and felt suddenly like throwing something at him.
He snickered and gave her the finger, walking over and grabbing a bar from Alex. "Please, tell me there's water."
Sierra leaned close, trying to ignore the storm outside.
Alex nodded, the beginnings of a grin forming. "Yeah, I think we can manage some, though we'll have to boil it first. I'll get a fire going."
"It's pouring rain, Alex."
"Then I won't try outside, Gary."
"Inside?" Sierra was more than slightly skeptical.
Alex looked around. "This house can't burn anymore. Besides, what else will we use that for?" he asked, pointing behind her at the living room's fireplace.
Sierra blushed. "You need a pot or something?"
"That would be nice," he muttered absently, digging through his pockets for his lighter.
She sighed. "I'm trying to help, you know," she whispered, though he likely didn't hear. Sierra groaned as she stood, limping over to the kitchen. She grabbed at the blackened drawers and started pulling, finding very little that looked like a pot. Cups ... plates ... silverware... Finally, under the stove, "Success!" She reached for the faucet and turned the knobs.
Nothing.
"Hey, Alex, are you sure there's water?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. You got that pot ready?"
"Well, yeah, the pot's ready, but there's no water, Alex. See?" She played with the knobs to show him.
CRACKboom
Alex chuckled and pointed outside. "Just leave it out there and it ought to fill up soon enough. It's raining pretty hard and this fire isn't gonna be ready for a bit anyways."
Small flames were, however, licking at the tinder.
Gary was bouncing with excitement. "Shower, shower, shower, shower..."
"Yeah, you should go first, Gar', you fucking stink," Sierra muttered as she placed the pot on the balcony.
"I heard that!"
"She's right, Gary. You do stink. Worse than I ever could, and that's saying something. And it'll be a bath. Hope you can live with that."
Sierra smirked before walking back inside. "What now? Anything else we need to do?"
Alex looked away from the small fire he was nursing and looked over her. "Yeah. Come here and watch the fire. I'm taking a nap; wake me up in a couple hours." With that he stood and walked out of the room. Sierra stared.
Gary watched him leave then looked at her. The moment Sierra heard Alex shut the door Gary started laughing. Sierra turned towards the fire.
"And you want him ... why?"
"Fuck you."
"I don't see why not," he whispered, standing up, moving over to her. "It must be hard, being you, Sierra. You know why?"
"No, Gary, I can't imagine why. Tell me," she groaned, picking at the fire, feeding it bits of already burnt tinder ... it was gonna be a long night.
"Because you can't get enough of his black ass, can you? He's always right in front of you, holding that dangerous shotgun of his, his furry, soft tail inches from your face sometimes, and all you get to do is go, 'Sure, Alex,' and, 'No, Alex,' which is probably what he wants anyways."
"Uh huh." Sierra rolled her eyes, and kept poking at the kindling.
"See, you're a chick, which makes it hard to just go into the bush and relieve yourself. Alex, he feels horny, he just goes into his little room there," he pointed, "and sticks his paw down his pants and a couple minutes of panting and heavy stroking later, BANG!"
There was a POP! in the fireplace: a piece of wood had swelled and exploded.
"...he's good to go for a week."
Sierra clutched the piece of wood in her paw so tightly she was sure it would give her splinters. Gary was right behind her, all but pressing his body against hers, his paws everywhere it seemed.
"How long has it been since you've had a good fuck, Sierra? Licked that delicious, sticky cum off your face? How long has it been since you've had real male meat shoved inside you? Three weeks? A month?"
With a growl, Sierra turned around and swung, dropping the piece of wood and making a fist in mid-swing.
"Two - "
She bashed him in the snout: a sickening crack. "Fuck off!" Sierra shrieked, and shoved him away.
His nose started bleeding. Gary was laughing, despite it. He figured eventually she would break down and give in to her natural urges and screw his brains out.
Thing was, and hopefully he didn't know it, Sierra feared she would. She took a deep breath and turned back to the fire ... which had died.
"Fuck."
Sierra opened her eyes but didn't see anything. Blind? No, wait, no, it's just really dark.
Where am I? The house. On the ridge. On the floor in one of the bedrooms.
Ah. There's the smell.
There was gentle shaking for half a second: someone had her by the shoulders and was trying to wake her.
"I'm up! I'm up."
Alex's voice floated down to her. He smelled clean. "Good. Got your bath all ready for you. The water's still warm, though it won't be for long."
Bath? "Bath!" She reached out and had him pull her up. Still slightly woozy from lack of decent sleep - the floor wasn't really five-star - she stumbled and limped into the bathroom.
A flickering light lit the room - Alex must've found and lit a candle. The room itself was scorched, like much of the rest of the derelict home. Tiles were covered in soot, and the sink seemed to be missing. But there was the tub, whole and intact except for the tiniest of leaks near the base, and full of hot, steamy, mostly clean water. She dropped her clothes like a bitch in heat and damn near leapt in. Instantly her leg felt better, and the grime seemed to wash away. Steam invaded her nostrils. Hot water... Mmm...
Soap flew. Water splashed. Bubbles bubbled. Dirt washed away, leaving her clean and odorless. Her red fur was now properly red, except for her belly fur, which was of course light pink. She sighed contently, closing her eyes and sliding her body below the surface, her little black nose like a small periscope, and for a brief instant she had a vision of a big, red, furry elephant swimming below the surface. She tried not to giggle.
The doorknob rattled; Sierra barely heard it, and barely submerged herself in time as the door opened. Her head broke the surface, and she growled, "Gary, I'm gonna fucking kill you - "
It wasn't Gary; Alex wandered in and put a fire-dried towel on the counter, closing the door behind him. "Thanks, Sierra," he sneered, "but you'll have to beat me to it."
"Huh?"
"Fucking killing Gary."
"Oh. I thought you liked him."
"What did you do to his nose?"
"I punched him."
He stared at her, and she suddenly realized how little she was wearing, and sank a little further. Alex scowled.
"Jesus Christ, I've seen you more naked than you are now, Sierra. You don't have to hide," he insisted. "Remember back in that swamp?"
She did, vividly, but her chin remained submerged.
"I could care less anyways."
"About me being naked?" That was disappointing.
Shook his head, "About Gary. In any case, he's asleep. The leopard passed out and I came in to find the water ice cold and his lips blue. I've got him wrapped up in some slightly burnt blankets beside the fire. Thanks for getting it going."
Sierra nodded. The tip of one of her tails broke the surface, a black island in the middle of a soapy ocean.
He changed pace. "How's your leg?"
She blinked. "It feels better ... hasn't hurt that much today."
"Don't lie, I saw you limping earlier."
She scowled. "I can handle my own body, thank you very much."
"Don't think I'm only trying to pity you, Sierra. I'm trying to get you to open up."
The tub was still leaking slowly, surely. Sierra could hear the steady dripping on the tiled floor. She sighed. Much too tired to argue.
"My leg is fine," she insisted, wincing while a little shock shot through her knee. "Thanks for asking."
Alex threw his paws up in defense. "Whatever. Push away anyone that has even the slightest interest in your well-being. I'm sure it's a great plan."
"You're not taking an interest. You're trying to keep from feeling guilty."
"Should I really feel guilty for saving your three other limbs?"
They sat in silence for a few more moments. Sierra's thoughts floated back to the swamp, where she'd lain, in the mud, covered from head to toe, dizzy from the pain; Alex's eyes trailing down her body when he'd been sure she wasn't looking; his touch, later, even though her leg hurt... She was shivering, suddenly.
"Is there any more water ready? It's getting cold."
Alex scowled. "I didn't get any refills; hell, you two were asleep when I took my bath!" Even so, he turned and left the room and Sierra heard grunting in the other room. A few moments later the black skunk returned, arms tensed and holding what looked like a very heavy pot full of steaming water. He heaved it onto the edge of the tub; the thing creaked uncertainly.
"Back up, I don't want to scald you."
Sierra pressed her arms across her chest and slid back. Alex looked at her, his eyes traveling over her body as he poured. Sierra felt her cheeks flush, but didn't look away. She wondered what he was looking at: her fire-orange fur, or perhaps her copper hair with black tips. More likely her breasts, she realized, and blushed, though she made no attempt to cover herself further.
No, he was looking into her green eyes. She blinked, feeling the heat from her cheeks, and considered dropping her arms.
It lasted little more than a moment; suddenly her paws, her tails, her lower body felt a rush of warmth throughout the water. Sierra kicked her feet to stir the heat around then slid back down, holding a paw over her chest to keep anything from floating up.
"How's that?" Alex asked, setting the pot on the floor.
She stared at him, then lowered her gaze to her own reflection. "Good," she whispered, closing her eyes again. It was a lie, really: heavenly was more correct.
"You want me to wash your back?"
The tub went drip, drip, drip on the tiled floor. Sierra opened her eyes, stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"I don't know about vixens, but I do know skunks can't reach back there very well."
She huffed. "I'll have you know vixens are very flexible." And she was about to show him when she realized her nipples were showing.
Alex shrugged and made for the door. Sierra scowled, she knew what he was up to; it didn't take a genius to realize he just wanted her to beg, and she didn't feel like giving him that satisfaction. "You're as bad as Gary," she blurted out suddenly.
"You said you were flexible, so I'm not needed."
She shook her head. "I say no, you plead, and eventually I give in and let you. That's how it works."
Alex growled. "You're as bad as my ex." He left without slamming the door, though he looked like he wanted to. It probably would've broken off its hinges anyways. The smirk that had only been forming on her muzzle slowly faded.
"Fuck!" she swore, and reached behind her.
The extra hot water granted her perhaps another fifteen minutes of heat, but in the end, the water still chilled. The dirt had settled to the bottom, a legendary sediment of their adventures. Her fangs chattered when she got up, after finally mustering the energy to do something other than freeze.
Little beads of ice cold water dripped down her front, her fur spiking instantly. She reached for the towel; it wasn't fire-dried anymore, just dried. Her fault, she supposed, but at least she hadn't passed out like Gary, especially since her naked body seemed slightly more vulnerable than his.
She certainly wouldn't have the leopard taking her and warming her up his way.
Sierra wrapped herself in the towel and stepped out. Gary was still passed out, covered up beside the dying fire, only embers now. Alex was still awake, resting on the rear balcony, shotgun at paw. Sierra watched him for a moment through the kitchen window before returning to the bathroom to put on her clothes - black cargos and a white tank top, how original. She didn't remember them being so dirty and sticky, but she didn't mind too much. At least her fur was clean now. Her cargos hid dirt well, anyways, as well as the nasty scar down her leg that gave her so much grief.
She wandered out to the balcony and sat down beside Alex. He didn't say anything; he looked too tired.
"If you want, I can take watch for a while."
He looked at her, chuckled, and turned back to the yard. "Thanks, but no."
"Have you seen any?"
"No. They probably can't smell us since we smell so good." The thought seemed to amuse him.
"How much ammo do you have for your shotgun?"
"Why?"
"I was thinking about it earlier."
The rain pattered on the soft grass, somehow unnatural. The lightning had stopped, finally, probably during her bath, though it wouldn't be long.
"I have twelve more rounds," he said finally.
"Rounds?"
"Shots."
"TWELVE?!" She jumped up, her eyes wide. "Then what?"
"Then I use it like Gary uses his wrench."
She stared. "You don't sound too concerned with running out."
"I can't just stop using the gun to save ammo; that defeats the purpose. I knew I'd run out eventually. But... I don't think the fleshies have figured out how to fire side arms; assuming we can find a gun shop that wasn't totally looted before they came, I should be able to restock. Hey!" He looked at her, a gleam in his eye. "Ever hold a gun before?" He had a wicked smile that made Sierra nervous.
She stared. "Not ... not so much."
"I'd let you practice with this but it'd be a waste to go firing into the air. Twelve shots, right?"
"Uh, right."
"But, we might find you and Gary each some sort of weapon ... well, maybe not Gary." He chuckled. "I don't know if I trust him with a sidearm. It's bad enough with that wrench of his..." He winced. "Dangerous enough, anyways."
"I'm sorry about earlier ... in the bathroom?"
Alex nodded. The rain fell, a staccato pummeling the roof above, the muddy yard below. They sat in relative silence; Alex lit a cigarette and indulged every few moments; the point of red light danced in her peripheral vision. Sierra found her train of thought leave the rails, much like a derailing train would: horribly. The only few things that had followed them through the apocalypse to the other side were dangerous, deadly, toxic; she hadn't heard any soothing rain since, only white noise, usually accompanied by arcs and rumbles, the stench of burnt air, the sky crying out in pain each time. Alex had his lighter and his cigarettes and his shotgun. Sierra had a scar down her ribs and stitches in her forehead. And a limp. Gary was Gary, bad enough; how the hell had he managed to survive only to leech off of them? Without a scratch?
There was pain, loneliness, fear and hate now; she hadn't felt love or comfort for some time now... Alex had his health, no limp, no stitches, but Sierra hadn't been nearly so lucky, so there was jealousy, too. Gary was Gary, bad enough, he wanted sex and didn't mind waiting, but Sierra needed Alex and couldn't wait nearly as long, more jealousy. How the hell had she not simply given up and fucked the leopard's brains out?
Because she had her dignity, that's how, she figured, since Gary likely had every soldier's disease known to Leopardkind and probably some not so known. He bothered her - though not in the good, hot and bothered kinda way, of course.
At least he'd passed out, naked and probably bent at some unnatural angle: Gary might well have been skinny but he was still dead weight like that and Alex likely wouldn't have cared enough to make him any comfortable. Probably the only reason Alex hadn't let him succumb to hypothermia in the tub was that he needed his own bath, and besides, if they did find an Ape?
She glanced over at Alex again, barely able to make out his features, a black on black skunk. How the hell had she not simply given in and raped him? Sucked his brains out? He was really big, she reasoned, more than capable of throwing her off and smacking her. But would he? Her gaze shifted downwards, at her own paws, wondering how she'd do it.
He would be standing there, wearing his chest-hugging shirt. She'd walk up to him, her eyes on his, and before those brown orbs could widen in confusion she'd press up against his chest and shove him to the ground, a rough landing, sure, but he could take it. Sierra would straddle his waist, pulling on his shirt until it slid out from under her; off it would fly, lost forever. Alex would finally come to his senses and ask, "Sierra?" but she would silence him, pressing her lips to his, shoving her tongue in his mouth, all the while holding his wrists at his side. She'd lean forward, pressing her chest to his, her nipples hard now, poking at his ruffled fur through her top.
Sierra took a deep breath, closed her eyes.
Alex would try to break the kiss, try to fight back, wonder what the hell she was doing, but she'd growl at him, snarl, like the animal she really was till he surrendered, his eyes wide; then she'd reach for her top and throw it to the ground, gasping suddenly with the chilled air blowing across her mounds. She'd kiss him again, pulling back only for breath, leaving that lewd trail of spit between their lips and tongues. Lick his cheek, chin, neck. She'd slide down his body, running her tongue along his muscles. Soon her tongue would reach his nipples, make him gasp, pant.
Sierra was panting too, trying her hardest not to, bringing a paw to her face, wiping sweat from her forehead. Alex was still there, probably thinking about other things, hopefully not noticing her flush.
Fantasy Alex wouldn't be able to see her flush, his eyes would be closed and his mouth would be open in sudden rapture as her soft, furred paws found their way inside his pants, feeling around, and he'd gasp out her name -
"Sierra?"
"Ahh!" she started, lost her balance, nearly fell backwards. "Don't scare me like that - what?"
He was staring out at the yard; something was moving, a shifting black on black shadow, complete with two glowing eyes. Fleshy. Alex was pointing at it, while his other paw was reaching for his shotgun.
"Does it know we're here?"
Her voice had lowered to a whisper, somehow. Alex shook his head. "Besides, I checked and locked the back door. We're fine."
He cocked his shotgun loudly; the monster gave a louder screech, and turned towards them.
Alex aimed. It ran, screaming and moaning, barely visible above the dark ground below it.
Alex paused, humming an unfamiliar tune. It sounded rousing.
"Alex."
The creature kept getting closer, twenty yards, ten ... its fangs were suddenly visible in the clouded moonlight, flashing razor sharp.
"Alex!"
"Here." He handed her the gun. She stared at its impressive size for a second, felt its reassuring weight, before realizing the meat bag was almost on top of them, and it leaped-
But it couldn't reach: they were on a high balcony, safe from all but the tallest fleshies. The thing wound up smacking itself in the head on the lower beam of the deck. Alex stood and tossed his cigarette on the fleshy, walked behind Sierra, gently grabbed her paws, showing her how to hold it. Through the screeching and shrieking she felt his body press up against hers, his arms stroking her arms under the pretext of teaching her how to hold the gun. He was topless, she realized, she hadn't noticed, hadn't seen him in the dark, and his fur was soft, his chest warm.
She fought to keep from nuzzling back.
"Okay. Keep your finger away from the trigger until you're just about to fire. And my baby has significant recoil. Wait till I'm standing aside then brace your arms and squeeze the trigger."
"Yeah," she muttered, sweating. She'd never felt his chest fur before. "Is it loud?"
"You've heard it before."
"I've never shot it."
He considered. "I guess it's loud enough." The thought didn't discourage her. Alex finally let go and she stood and leaned against the railing, locked her arms straight, looked right down at the terrifyingly close meat bag, and reached for the trigger.
Sierra didn't really hear the blast - her ears started ringing far too soon for that - but she assumed the shot rang out into the night. The meat bag's head exploded backwards, and it collapsed and, had she been able to hear, fell silent, stupid fleshy, she thought. The gun seemed to throw itself back at her, somehow only after the fact.
Amidst the ringing Alex's voice floated in. "Very good." He grabbed the gun, still in her paws, pointed it at the ground, pulled it from her grip. "Eleven left."
"What the hell's going on out here?" Gary had awoken and looked irate. He held a blanket around his midsection. His spots looked unnaturally sharp, clean.
Sierra beamed, "I got one," like a young curious kitten bounding after butterflies. The shotgun in Alex's paws smoked proudly, a mighty cannon with which to smite evil. Gary looked briefly over the rail before turning back to them.
"Yeah? And you'll have woken up the lot of 'em."
"The lot of whom?"
"Them."
He pointed towards the front of the house. Sierra and Alex looked at each other and without a sound hurried to the front room. Gary came rushing after them, and pointed out the living room window at innumerable shapes moving in the night.
"Fuck... Have they heard us?" Sierra whispered.
Alex considered, watching them move. "Nah, I don't think so, they're moving too randomly to know about fresh meat."
Sierra shuddered. "Good thing we barricaded the door."
"They probably followed our scent ... but it got lost in the rain, down there." Gary pointed down the ridge.
"Good thing we bathed."
Alex nodded. "We're out of here as soon as the sun comes up. Gary, you've got watch," and handed him the shotgun.
Sierra stood a moment more, contemplating the erratic swaying of some twenty groaning shapes in front of their new house. Gary had watch, but she was all he ended up watching, and he was still only clad in his towel and looked ready to drop it. Sierra sighed and faced him.
"What?" she asked, irritated.
Gary winked and let the towel fall, revealing - as she had figured - nothing but pure feline flesh. Sierra stared at the piece of meat hanging between Gary's long legs.
"I can't take it anymore," she whispered, looking at her boots.
Gary laughed and suddenly was right in front of her. "Finally giving in?"
She nodded, and looked back at his smug face, looked in his gleaming eyes. She put a paw around his shoulder, pulling him close, watching as he closed his eyes.
"I can't believe I waited so long for this," she muttered, right as their muzzles touched.
Gary shrieked. Sierra smirked and slowly let go of his balls, turned and walked out of the living room, putting that little extra bounce in her hips, giving him the finger over her shoulder.
She passed Alex's room and stopped. The skunk was already asleep, quiet like a baby - a two hundred, twenty pound baby. She sighed and turned to her room off to the side. Alex had, predictably, taken his earlier room, the master bedroom, the only room with a bed that hadn't completely turned to cinders; Sierra had gotten the crappy child's room. Gary had no room; he'd be awake now till they left, and then some. She gave an evil laugh at the thought of the leopard unable to poke fun at her. Alex grunted in his sleep, and for a moment she feared Gary's girly scream had woken him up.
Moments later the snoring started again, predictably. Alex had said that he hadn't snored before meeting his first meat bag; now he snored whenever there were any within earshot, which stuck Sierra as very counterproductive: they were, after all, trying to stay unnoticed at the moment.
Sierra closed the door behind her and blinked, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the consuming darkness. What faded into view was slightly disconcerting: though this was likely the child's room, very little remained that reminded her of childhood. No stuffed teddies adorning the corners (or charred remains thereof), no finger paintings taped to the wall, no model airplanes hanging from the roof or dolls living in dollhouses. Sierra sighed - likely it was only her exhaustion that kept her from worrying about the fate of little boys and girls.
The vixen scooped up a blanket and lay on the slightly burnt carpet. She thought briefly of stripping down and sleeping like she used to but she was far too clean in a lifestyle that normally forbade it to allow herself to sleep on burnt carpet. So, with grimy cargos whose seams pressed against her, with a tank top stretched slightly from overuse, she rolled to her side and closed her eyes. Sleep was not far off; she could feel it tugging at her consciousness.
Unable to do anything but breathe deeply, and forgetting all about the blackened house, Sierra soon found herself in the brown swamp.
Sierra blinked. A bout of nausea--she rolled over and threw up, disgusting, but it felt better suddenly.
There was something on her muzzle. She brought a paw to wipe whatever it was off, but her paw was muddy, and in the end she only made it worse. She put her paw back down and discovered she was standing ankle deep in mud. The fox startled and jumped, landing on her ass ... and leaving her boots behind.
"Damn it!" she swore, and crouched low, reaching out over the mud for her boots.
SPLAT
"FUCK!" she bubbled through the mud. Picking herself up and pulling herself onto the hard earth Sierra wiped mud from her eyes. She looked up at the glowing canopy above and hollered.
Today was not looking to be her day; perhaps tomorrow. Nursing her pride she stood and took stock of herself and her surroundings. She was slightly wobbly, though it was fading. There was a half empty bottle of vodka beside her. All around her were thick trees, covered in moss and spotted with mushrooms here and there. Leaves hung heavy off of plants, dripping with dew.
But not a sign of where she'd come from. She frowned, standing slowly and looking around. All she saw was more swamp. Smelled, too, though she was slowly getting used to the smell. In fact ... she had the eeriest feeling she'd been here before.
Sierra shrugged and started walking, taking stock of her limbs and other bodily things. Nothing feels broken, nothing's bleeding, she counted off on her fingers. The only thing bruised was her ego - she flickered more mud from her face.
There was a howl behind her, the holler of a canine. Sierra paused and turned around, but the cry was so far away that she couldn't see anything. The thing sounded like it was in pain - another cry, this time more of a shriek.
She was not armed, nor very skilled at self-defense. She was not likely able to help the poor fellow if he was being harmed, and besides, wouldn't someone else far more able hear it too? For a moment she considered ignoring the cries, considered pretending she hadn't heard them. For a moment, anyways.
Her sneaky conscience got the better of her. It always did.
Heaving a sigh but secretly worrying about the poor canine she broke into a run, stopping every few moments to listen.
Around her the swamp darkened, and for a moment Sierra feared she was going the wrong way, not farther and farther from this fur she was trying to help, but farther and farther from civilization. She stopped, listened - the cries were definitely louder, warped from the echoes, twisted and strange.
She gulped. This wasn't right, though she didn't know why. There was the thump-thump-thump of a war drum around her, but it was only her heartbeat. She touched her paw to her forehead - amidst the mud there was sweat, too. Sierra heard the screech again, wholly unhealthy and evil, no longer crying out in pain - more of a feral, rabid howl. Wasting no time at all she turned and ran the other way, out of the deepest part of the swamp, away from whatever was shrieking like that.
She could hear something trampling through the swamp behind her, something fast. Sierra dared a glance over her shoulder, nearly tripped, but barely saw whatever it was. All she knew was the trampling of underbrush behind her. She leapt over the patch of mud in which she'd found herself. More shrieks.
More shadows, barely behind her now. She turned and leapt, heart pounding, breathing ragged now. There was a stitch shooting up her right leg, threatening to make her lose her balance. Branches snapped, cracked behind her, beside her - something caught her around her ankle and she fell, her head slamming against the ground. Stars, colored and white and spinning all at once - she didn't even feel the paw on her ankle anymore, especially since there were obscenely sharp claws on her back now, tearing at her flesh.
Tearing at her clothing.
Something was really wrong with that, Sierra realized, her mind turning over properly. Instinct overtook reason and she kicked, hitting something square in what felt like a midriff. She didn't care. She tried to roll over, her shirt falling apart beneath her. The white in her eyes faded and Sierra screamed.
Someone had her by the shoulders. Sierra screamed, dizzy, as a paw clamped over her muzzle. She tried without much success to bite the hell out of it.
"Sierra!" he cried. Alex shook her again--more stars danced for a moment. Alex stared down at her. She swiped at him, kicking at his gut, trying to get away from the horrible monsters that had her so trapped.
"We've got company!"
There was the BLAST of a shotgun in the darkness beyond her room.
A searing pain in her right leg, or maybe just the memory.
Intermission
Sorry, I know it kinda leaves you hanging, and I'm even more sorry that I will be leaving you hanging for a while. This took for god-damned ever; don't expect the next chapter to be any sooner. However, you should be able to bust your nut sooner or later.
As always, email, review, rate it, you know the drill.