Frostbite-Fiftythree

>You squat, examining yet another torn heap of flesh and feathers. Another turkey hen, slain in the night my an invasive little bastard that hadn't been an issue until this year.
>Eastern coyote, emboldened by a lack of local hunting interest, and an unusually warm winter had started going after the already scarce game birds in your property. And frankly, you'd had enough.
>You stand, walking back toward your house. You beeline straight for where your guns are, pushing the door to your room open.
>Your rifles were all lounging about as you entered, going to where you stored ammo and accessories. You pull out a box of the rounds you intended to use, instantly gaining a groan from behind you.
>"Anon, why are you taking the gook?!" The lightest of your girls called. "Whatever it is, I can do better!"
>You frown at the little Armalite. "First off, language." You say, poking her on the nose. "Second, you've been used a lot recently, and I'm also wanting something with a little more power..."
>"So the Hatfield or Fiftythree..." Your tall, cat eared Mauser called from your desk. "Becouse you still have yet to buy me any worth while food..."
>"Right... Sorry." You frown. "But I'm gunna hold off on the shotgun, I'm still sore from last week..." You reply.
>You look to your shortest companion. "Come of, we've got work to do..."
>You start out, know the handy little Mosin is following. You stop at the freezer, pulling out some bacon.
>"Why do you need bacon, Anon?" She asks, following you to your truck.
>"We're going to use it to bait coyotes." You say, hopping into the driver seat. The cat eared Type 53 hops into the passenger seat. "Coyotes? The small, feral dogs? I'm a bit big for that..."
>"That's the point. I want to turn these little cunts into paste." You reply, turning the truck on and starting off. Your rifle sits, looking out into the woods as you drive through them. She's been to hell and back, being some grunts bring back from Vietnam. Someone ran corrosive ammo through her, which pitted her barrel to the point that only heavy grain stuff could work in her... But with the right stuff, she could nail tacks. Someone had taken her bayonet off and lost it to time. Her metal was rusted and worn, and a previous owner had forced her into an M44 stock that didn't fit, then tried to make her fit with JB weld... But she was still a handy carbine shooting a hell of a round.
>"You ever hunt animals before?" You ask.
>"Yes, but that redneck could never hit anything. And neither could my operator overseas." She replies, looking out the window. "Do you think you can?"
>"Of course, but hey, I'm sure you'll be happy to just have some rounds run through ya, eh?" You grin, nudging her with your elbow. She blushes furiously, glaring at you as you focus on the gravel road.


>You park beside a shack grandpa built to hunt out of. You won't be using that this evening. Across the road is a hill covered in trees and large rocks, sitting on the edge of a field and more woods.
>With Fiftythree following, you hike to the hill, then out into the field a bit. You tear open the package of bacon and dump it onto the ground.
>"That should work, if Papa was right." You says, marching back to the crest of the hill and sitting on a rock that overlooks the field. Your carbine sits beside you.
>"How long until they come?"
>"Not sure, 30 minutes, an hour? They'd come quicker if I had a call..." You frown. "I may have just set bait for vultures..."
>She snorts, ruffling your hair. "I'm sure you'll find some coyotes." You nod, silently watching down into the field and across to where the woods continue. You roll around five rounds of Brown Bear in your hand, waiting for the chance do put them to use...
>You wait, the sky above you and your rifle darkening with a coming storm. You've positioned wisely; downwind of the pile of bacon.
>And your patience pays off, a scrawny, grayish tan hound start making his way out of the woods across the field from you, trying to keep low.
>You look to Fiftythree, and find her laying at your side in her wooden and metal form. You pick her up, and open the bolt, rapidly pushing rounds into her chamber as quietly as possible.
>The thrill of the hunt gets to you, your heart is beating out of your chest and you chamber the first round, and bring the rifle to your shoulder. You can feel her heat in your cheek as you line up a shot. You position the sights on the beast's front shoulder as he bends down to sniff at the bait.
>You move your finger to get trigger, the world seeming to pause and wait as you prepare to pull back...


>You pull back on the trigger, the world at the end of her muzzle domed by the massive fireball she spurts. Your ears ring in annoyance.
>"Fuck, forgot ears..." You frown, pulling her from your shoulder and running her bolt. You see a few tuffs of fur fall into a a pile of torn fur and flesh laying beside your bait pile.
>You run out into the field, looking around for any other signs of activity, and spot another coyote running for the trees. You lift your rifle and fire at it, kicking up dirt behind it. You run the bolt, and aim again, leading it this time. Bang, and you see the hound roll over and flail in pain. You roll your bolt once more and aim, before putting the coyote out of his misery.
>Your ears are screaming and your heart is racing. There's a dull thumping pain in your temple as you eject the last empty case and the remaining live round. You walk back to your perch, collecting empty steel along the way. You sight with a sigh of joy, grinning as you lay back on the rock.
>"F-fuck..." Your companion pants, having returned to her flesh and blood form. She's sweating intensely, blushing and panting hard as she flops back beside you. "All of that over two dogs...?"
>"Asshole dogs, but yeah, pretty much." You reply, reaching over and rubbing her belly, earning a pleased purr. "But critters around here wise up, it'll be hours before any wonder back out..."
>She looks over to you. "So... Camping trip?" She grins. Night hunting would be a pain, especially with that muzzle flash. Not to mention the difficulty of spotting a coyote in the dark, but you can't help yourself.
>"Camping trip."
>You sit up, knowing you'll need to figure out your sleeping arrangements. Fiftythree looks up at you. "Do you need to collect the dogs?"
>"No, leave 'em as more bait. That or the vultures will get them." You say, moving down toward where you've parked. "So, we've got the shack" You point to the sturdy wood structure on stilts. "Or I can pull a tarp and some straps out of the truck, and I can dig a shelter up on the hill."
>She's about to reply, when the distant sound of thunder interrupts her. You look to the sky, noticing that the sky has grown a dark grey in the distance.
>"The hill would be best for hunting... But the weather..." She starts.
>You nod. "Critters like the rain as much as we do, so the point is a bit null. No matter." You say, grabbing the hinged stairs and folding them down. You start up, opening the screen door.
>Inside, the air is dusty and stale, with only the glomy light of an impending storm lighting the interior. You crack the door open to clear out some of the air, and start working on getting a lamp lit.

>You manage to get the old Coleman lit, shaking the match out. The interior is unpainted, with a few salvaged chairs siting around, with some blankets and food locked away. You kneel down and start to open it.
>You feel Fiftythree lean against your back, purring softly. Given the day's shoot, you know what she expects. "Hold on a minute, I'm sure you don't want to do that on bare wood..." You say, standing and lifting a thick blanket out and shaking it free of dust and possible creepy crawlies before you lay it out. Next, a few blankets, ranging from thin sheets to thick flannel. You toss them and a few pillows into your make shift bed...
>But a primal urge is rising in you, spurred on by a shape in the bottom of the chest...
>A can of Vienna Sausages. You pick the can up, pulling the tab and opening it. The little, canned hotdogs are a stash away staple. You pull the center one out, poping it into your mouth. Mmm, cheap meats.
>You go for a second, but are inturupted by a familiar shirt getting tossed over your face, snapping you out of your lust for canned meat.
>"Can't you eat later...~?"
>You pull the shirt off you face and set the can down, turning to face your rifle. She's nude, laying on her belly atop the pile of blankets, and looking up at you. Her tail flicks around in anticipation. "Come on, Anon, I know you'd rather enjoy me than some discount store rations...~"
>You kick off your boots, sitting down beside her and rubbing down her back, rubbing your fingers over her tail. "I do... But aren't you hungry?"
>She shakes her head, rolling over and resting her head in your lap. You scratch behind her pointy little ears, earning a satisfied purr from Fiftythree. You take a moment to simply enjoy her form. For a 60 year old gun, she's got great... ergonomics...~ A classy profile, guiding your hands right down her smooth sides and to her 'trigger'.
>You slowly run down her shoulders and over her chest, gently squealing her breasts, your thumbs rubbing over her nipples in small circles. She murrs softly, still leaning against your lap as you massage and tease her breasts.
>You watch her body heat up, a thought forming in your head. You lick your lips, looking down to face your feline raifu.
>"You know, I'm still a bit hungry..." You tease. "If you wanna turn around..." You start, but before you can finish, she has turned a full 180, spreading herself out while pulling a pillow to her chest, hiding her mischievous smile behind it.


>You kneel down, sliding your shoulders up under her legs. You guide your tongue over her folds, from bottom to top, flicking your tongue over her clitoris, before moving back down. You rub your middle and index fingers into the trimmed patch of dark hair above her moist slit, simply trying to add teasing to pleasure.
>You use your tongue to spread her lips gently, pushing it into her love canal slightly, teasingly. You run your tongue over her nethers, exploring ever inch and fold.
>Fiftythree is in heaven, biting down on a corner of her pillow as you pleasure her. Every breath is a moan or sigh or sharp gasp, her body starting to quiver and shake, pleasure and anticipation rising in her moans.
>You're now vigorously lapping at her folds, any grace form gone as you now seek only to please. You can here it and sense it coming in her voice. She draws her legs in, locking you down with your face in her womanhood as she gives a hearty moan of pleasure. Her nectar oozes over your nose and tongue, and you lap it up, savoring her flavor and satisfying your hunger.
>You slide up her body, with you groin pressed against hers. She shoves the pillow away, hugging into you instead. You nuzzle you face into the crook of her shoulder, kissing into her neck.
>"D-do want want a turn, Anon?" She asks softly.
>"Hmmm, later..." You reply, nipping at her ear, earning a soft gasp. "I'd rather just enjoy the moment." You add, your hands returning to her breasts as you lean in, pressing your lips against hers.
>Now the rain starts outside, with thunder rolling loudly. You look up, watching it out the cabin door.
>"Will it be bad?" Fiftythree asks.
>"Don't know. I'll check the news." You say, pulling out your phone. Getting anything to load out in the woods, so you start to strip down while you wait, tossing everything but your underwear away. You pick your phone back up and curl up with your raifu, pulling a blanket over you.
>"It's gunna be a little loud and very wet, but not bad." You say, closing your phone and setting it away.
>"And the weather?" She smirks, snuggling against your side.
>You snort, rubbing her hair. "Chilly...~"
>You both lay back, listening to the sound of rain on the tin roof, simply enjoying each other's company.
>You feel sleep creeping up, and Fiftythree notices. "Are you tired, Anon?" You nod.
>"Yeah, a bit..." You blink. Your feline friend smiles, pushing you onto your back and snuggling up close against you, belly to belly.
>You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close as you get snuggled under the blankets. The warmth and comfort weighs heavy on your consciousness, and resort to accepting sleeps warm embrace.
>"G'night, Fiftythree..."
>"Goodnight, Anon..."