# SLOTH

Author: LiveIron
Tags: Anger, Angst, Anthrostate, Blood and Injury, Car Chases, Dark past, Gun, Horror, Human, Interspecies, Interspecies Awkwardness, Large Breasts, Magic, Old Friends, Pain, Paranormal, Possession, Resurrection, Size Difference, Spies & Secret Agents, Tiger, Tigress, Transformation, butt slapping, driving, fights, firearm, healing, monsters

'And'

\>Rebecca is heavy.

 

\>"Come on! We have to move!"

 

\>You yank at her arm to little effect. She stares at the ground, leaning on her sword.

 

\>Her clothes are no more torn than before, the scratches and bites from the thralls barely noticeable.

 

\>Grabbing her cheek-fluff and shaking does nothing. Her green eyes bore right through you.

 

\>You begin to cough as the acrid smoke piles up. The thralls stumble about in the haze, hacking and snarling.

 

\>You need to move her _now_.

 

\>"Rebecca, get up! Give me a sign, or --"

 

\>One of the monsters trips over you with a growl.

 

\>Fuck it.

 

\>You slap the tigress' butt; the sound echoes even through the demonic laughter.

 

\>She bolts upright and snaps to you with a murderous glare.

 

\>At least her eyes aren't glazed over now.

 

\>"Move your ass!" you yell, tugging her arm.

 

\>It works.

 

\>For a bit, at least.

 

\>Rebecca's sword drags behind her as she hobbles along after you.

 

\>You can hear the scrapes slowing in rhythm as you go. You shout at her to keep her going.

 

\>Encouragement. Insults. Threats that you'll slap her ass again.

 

\>It hurts to do so.

 

\>But it keeps her moving. At least for a while.

 

\>She's painfully slow by the time you reach the bottom floor. You curse as the ceiling above you creaks and burns.

 

\>Definitely not normal flames.

 

\>You pull Rebecca into a side room. The rotting books of the small study are already burning, pages curling up in embers.

 

\>You drop the tigress' hand and head to the window; the smoke is starting to get to you.

 

\>Pulling the pin on the charge is tough.

 

\>You almost run into Rebecca after the countdown, barely able to see her.

 

\>She stiffens when the explosive goes off.

 

\>"Move!"

 

\>It's enough to get her out through the remains of the wall.

 

\>Your eyes, your nose, your mouth -- they all burn.

 

\>The two of your stumble out onto the lawn. You only let her hand go when you're both clear of the inferno.

 

\>You cough out a couple black clouds as you look back: the whole mansion is alight, the plume of smoke blotting out the stars.

 

\>You fumble for your keys and curse.

 

\>How the fuck are you gonna get her in the car?

 

\>"Rebecca? Rebecca?"

 

\>The tigress is back down on a knee, staring blankly at the ground.

 

\>Her chest heaves as her body tries to cough.

 

\>You slap her back, and she spits black bile.

 

\>You cringe at the hacking sounds she makes.

 

\>"We need to keep moving," you say, grabbing her hand when she's done.

 

\>She mutters something. Her legs drag in the grass.

 

\>You curse when she goes fully limp.

 

\>"Move, Rebecca! Come on!"

 

\>Her sword is locked in her grip, but she's catatonic otherwise.

 

\>Her blood's still pumping. Your death grip on her wrist tells you that.

 

\>You drop it and run over to the car.

 

\>At this point, it'll be faster.

 

\>The first of the burning thralls arrive as you peel out, spraying gravel behind you.

 

\>They're shambling slowly, flesh and bone crisping before your eyes.

 

\>You swing the back end of the truck around as close to the tigress as you dare.

 

\>"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

 

\>The bed is big, but it's full of equipment. You'll need every inch to hold the tigress.

 

\>You hop in; the loose stuff comes out first.

 

\>Spare batteries, scanning equipment, traps.

 

\>A backboard, an on-site surgeon machine, a mass neutralizer gun.

 

\>Anything and everything that's not bolted down.

 

\>The burning bodies glare at you from the window, inching ever closer.

 

\>They crawl even as they turn to ash.

 

\>You shoot the locking bolts for the radio relay and kick it loose.

 

\>Damn thing didn't work anyway.

 

\>You hop out and blast the closest thralls as you walk to Rebecca.

 

\>You try to ignore the others tumbling from the flaming windows.

 

\>"Rebecca, get up!" you yell, shaking her.

 

\>She's little better than before.

 

\>You curse; her ass is out of reach.

 

\>You look at her breasts, but shake your head. Too easy for her to shred you.

 

\>A fleck of white catches your eye: her tail, laying between her body and her blade.

 

\>You groan.

 

\>This is going to hurt.

 

\>You crouch down on her huge sword, grab her tail, and yank.

 

\>This time she roars.

 

\>You're sent sailing through the air for the third time tonight when she lurches upright.

 

\>The grass offers a better landing than the other two times.

 

\>"Get to the truck!" you yell.

 

\>You're not even back on your feet.

 

\>"Get in the truck!"

 

\>Rebecca's staring at you -- Christ, she flung you far.

 

\>"Move! In the truckbed!"

 

\>It's painfully slow, but she moves.

 

\>Just like you.

 

\>You curse as your ankle lights up in pain -- you knew there'd be consequences.

 

\>But they're what you deserve.

 

\>You limp and shoot, limp and shoot.

 

\>The thralls are starting to get close to the truck now.

 

\>The tigress's tail swishes weakly.

 

\>Limp and shoot, limp and shoot.

 

\>You have to club one with a discarded crowbar when you reach the truck -- no field of fire.

 

\>The bed has trouble closing, but Rebecca's safely inside.

 

\>Burning stumps of arms hammer on the hull while you go to the passenger door.

 

\>You open it and curse.

 

\>"I'm gonna get in so much trouble..." you mutter, looking at the huge blade poking through the passenger seat.

 

\>You hobble around the hood, firing as you go.

 

\>Bodies rain from the building.

 

\>Less look charred now.

 

\>You slam the door shut on one as it grabs for your ankle, snapping it off at the wrist.

 

\>The truck rumbles to life, and the cab fills with an acrid stench.

 

\>You gun it and pop the door, kicking the flailing hand out.

 

\>Great.

 

\>This was a no-smoking car.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Xek3vX0e
Part of the series Negligent Discharge: Repent
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