The Lion and the Lamb (tf, griffon, WHY DO YOU KEEP READING

Dec 15th, 2013
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  1. Surgeon General's Warning: Standard perversions are within. Level-9 containment procedures are to be followed under threat of reassignment to Keter duty.
  8. You were playing poppy music at full blast on your phone thinking it would keep you charged. It wasn't. A long week of school, errands, work, and all the commute in between pulled the standard drain on you. It was a friday night and all you wanted was to get touchy-intimate with the couch and a pile of blankets and let Netflix chatter away until you fell asleep.
  9. Your phone read eight thirty-seven P.M. Johnny Foreigner kept singing on like they didn't care. But you cared. You were shangheid into a night on the town when you desperately wanted otherwise. Sure, you could say no, wash the make up off your face and veg out for the next forty-eight hours and let the world merrily burn for all you care, but...
  10. But the thought of saying no to the girl who was doing the shangheing made you shiver like a wasp was nosing around the nape of your neck.
  11. A gaggle of other voices chimed in, throwing their support of you getting out of the house and spending some of your youth on a night on the town.
  12. 'You never do anything. Just study study study. Go out, be cool for once. Smoke a cigarette handed to you by a stranger. Dance like a retard to music you don't like. Drink something you can't pronounce. Party! Fun!" went a desperately hopeful voice in your head.
  13. "Blugh," went your actual voice as you perused through the limited pallete of eye shadow. Orange would work, right? They'd bring out the deep green in your eyes. Yes, orange would do nicely. It's the kind of color people would wear to this kind of thing, right? The eyeliner pencil slid around your lids like a blinking question mark.
  14. Uh...
  15. You don't even know what 'this kind of thing' IS. You imagined strobe lights and glo sticks and a shortage of bathroom space. The girl gave you an address that you looked up. It belonged to an old retrofitted warehouse that was a magnet for loud, shirtless musicians, their louder instruments, and even louder crowds.
  16. You've been to concerts before, you know what those are like. Sure, it was Sesame Street on Stage when you were about 9 or so, but it was still crowded. The light up Elmo wand still stood on the dresser in your room.
  17. It would mesh very well with tonight's cacophony of lights and loud racket. No one would single you out for jumping up and down with a strobing Elmo.
  18. No. Please do not do such a thing. You will lose it, you will be sad. The thought is brushed away and buried under a bit of eye shadow.
  19. Your phone reads eight forty-one P.M.
  20. Not for the first time do you wish you had the girl's phone number. She could help clear up a few jittery questions you had, or she would scowl them into submission. Truly, you didn't know her that well. She just had "punk girl" written all over her, if not spray-painted. Trying to remember the exact details of how (much less WHY) she wound up inviting you to this late-night revelry gives you the mental equivalent of a low-res video and a shrug.
  21. You saw her around the college, yes, but it seemed like she was constantly fixed next to a pillar, a bench, or brick wall, twiddling a cigarette between her long fingers. She wouldn't look out of place standing next to a lion perched on a rock. Now that you think about it, you don't know if you ever saw her walk. She seemed to exist in a perpetual state of wry disdain and chill. Sometimes others of her, ah, type were with her. Sometimes not. Did she even take classes?
  22. Maybe. She did have a backpack. There could even be a book in it.
  23. But for sure you know that she has a pen in there, because she pulled one out and wrote down a time and place for you to meet her.
  24. "It's pretty rad," she said. She smiled, showing teeth that glistened with an odd brightness considering her oral habits. "You look like you need to thrash around a bit."
  25. "Uh?" You ventured as you accepted the note
  26. "The bouncers can be dicks sometimes about folks being late, but I can be a dick right back. All the same, don't leave me danglin', alright?" Her voice sounded like oil being drizzled over hot gravel. Scary, but compelling. The kind of voice that draws people into dark alleys and smoke-filled rooms.
  27. "Um."
  28. She had a scoff that could light a match. "It's not a hard groove to fit into. Don't let your blood vessels pop, kid." She flicked her cigarette into the nearby dirt and disappeared as soon as you blinked. You tried to look around for her, but there was some kind of scuffle that boiled up. You remember seeing that one weird girl with the crossed eyes looking scared and that one other guy with the big muscles looking real angry.
  29. You also remember seeing the girl with the purple highlights who worked in the campus store looking really...well, you couldn't put a word to it, but it freaked you out. You got out of there not long after.
  30. The note read ten P.M.
  31. Your phone read eight fifty-six.
  32. ---
  33. You had to cross a few railroads to get here. There wasn't as many streetlights as you'd like, but the empty streets and buildings soon became pricked and cluttered with tightly crammed cars and motorcycles which were less "parked" and more "packed."
  34. No sounds of screeching metal met your ears as you squirmed your small vehicle into an out-of-the-way nook. There were a lot of people. Most were heading towards the tall, dark building that had bright lights, noises, and smoke coming out of it. You pressed the lock button on your key-chain twice and headed towards the destination that was seemingly chosen by mass consensus.
  35. The noise grew louder, the crowds thicker, the hair and clothing styles wilder. Belts and studs piercings made up more of the average wardrobe than actual fabrics. Not many people seemed to be sporting their natural hair color for the evening either. You felt severely under-dressed in your sensible boots and wearing only one belt with a sensibly over-sized buckle and hair worn with a sensible shade down to shoulder length.
  36. A man with a red mohawk the height of your arm passed by. It looked like it needed human sacrifices impaled on it.
  37. "Hey, you actually showed up on time."
  38. >You heard heavy boots move over the gravelly walkway. She strutted towards you, tall and smoky in the dark. Her close-cropped white hair stabbed into the night on violet tips. Her arms crossed and she smiled like she won a bet made with herself.
  39. "Hell, you actually showed up." You waved at her, unsure with what to say.
  40. "Yeah I showed up." That didn't seem bold enough. "Heck yeah I showed up."
  41. Oh, aren't you fierce tonight.
  42. Her teeth twinkled again, looking sharp even from this distance. She took long strides towards you and grabbed you by your upper arm.
  43. "C'mon chick, let's go inside before things get good," the lead came to her naturally. Her steps were a steady march. She wasn't going any faster or slower than what she damn well felt like going. You tried your best to match. She carried most of the conversation as well.
  44. "It's the best place several towns over, but that ain't saying much. The owner is pretty cool when he's not holding an appointment over a toilet bowl. At least he gets his audience, yeah?"
  45. Comments from your side are sprinkled in when you can manage.
  46. "'Course you get a handful of shit heels trampling around, but just stick with me or break something over there skull and they'll back off. Usually." She laughs. You frown. She notices.
  47. "Hey, I'm fucking with you. Mostly." She punches you in the shoulder. "Nah, Chick. Just stick with me and you'll have a good time. I swear on it."
  48. You nod. "Okay. Okay." She holds a finger in the air.
  49. "Oh, and it's real fuckin' loud in there. 'Cus it should be. So don't worry about conversation. I know that must kill you because you're such a social butterfly, huh?" She raises an eyebrow over her heavily shaded eyes.
  50. "No. No, that's cool. I'm cool with that." You try to sound as relaxed as possible.
  51. The building stopped looming and started to seethe as the lights and music picked up even more from within. She claps once "Yes! I knew you would be. Hah." She bypassed a line of
  52. people who may have been auditioning for a spot on Ripley's Believe It or Not. A hulk of a man standing by the door raised a hand that could crumple phone books.
  53. "Woah, sorry sister, back of the line like everyo-" A beat. "Ah shit, look out, how's it going Gils?"
  54. She nodded once. "Sup, Finn." She threw a thumb over her should to indicate you. "Got a new egg for tonight, should be fun." The big man chuckled.
  55. "Do me a favor and don't ruffle too many feathers tonight, a'ight babe?" She blew a raspberry and shot him the rod.
  56. "You know I'm bad with favors and promises, now get the fuck out of my way, there's a party going on." Finn waved her and you through.
  57. "You're in for a ride, snowflake." He said to you. His attention went back to the line of people, several of whom weren't pleased with your ease of access. You don't know if you were pleased either. Just who was the girl pulling you by the arm right now? What kind of weight could she throw around this place?
  58. You passed through several rooms that seemed hastily arranged with plywood and strung up lights. The din grew lader as you moved through each chamber. The floor started to shake like a great dragon was charging through the warehouse walls and dancing to whatever instrument was being played by whoever summoned it.
  59. Thump, went your chest. Your fingers started to tingle and your eyes felt cool as they began to adjust to the dark interior. Thump. People rushed passed as you were pulled forward into what felt like the jaws of a monster. Thump.
  60. You're getting weird. Just take a deep breath. Thump.
  61. "Almost there," said your guide to this cacophonous underworld. "Try not to get overwhelmed, hah!" The force pulling you towards the maw of energy was like a river. You couldn't turn back now if you wanted to.>You were pushed passed one more walkway and into a monster's belly. Lights criss-crossed across a ceiling made of pipes and rafters. Lightning and purple fires blossomed along the walls like a pack of wizards where firing wildly at unseen flies.
  62. Whichever way you faced, music was sure to cascade around you. Beats and vibrations and wild-eyed notes shook up and down your body like aural rain. You took a deep breath and smelt smoke from cigarettes, both cheap and expensive. Freshly poured and spilt alcohol simmered in the air. Less than legal things lurked in the darker crevices of long-unused machines.
  63. Oh, and the people! The crowd looked irradiated in noises and strobe lights. They cheered and danced, as though they could bring on some wild mutation if they pumped it hard enough.
  64. You didn't know what one thing to focus on until the girl you only knew as Gilly turned around and mouthed "Total Blast." Your brain zeroed in on that little orchestration of lips and tongue and decided to codify it for the rest of the night.
  65. This was going to be a Total Blast. So what if you had no idea if the music being played belonged to any definite genre? Sure, maybe the guy next to you banging his head was from another planet, but you didn't care. You were going to have a Total Blast.
  66. A glass of something green was pressed in front of your face. Your benefactor was holding a similar drink. You took it and scarfed it down, hoping to impress her. You coughed loudly however, because you never had anything stronger than Arbor Mist. You dropped the glass, but only heard the roar of the crowd and instruments that were almost extra-dimensional .
  67. Her fingers brushed your cheek to catch your attention. "Let's dance!" she mouthed. You were drawn deeper into the ever-shifting wall of warm bodies. Another drink found its way toward you. Down the hatch again. You nearly tripped on your boots once or twice. You would've heard "Don't get fucked up too fast," if the arena you were in wasn't such an overbearing din.
  68. She threw your arms in the air, and you were inclined to keep them there. You never danced to anything like this before. The closest you've came was at homecomings and proms. This was different. This was...
  69. Your arms started to sway. Your head rocked. Legs moved left, then right. Hips bounced and shifted on their own.
  70. Hahaha! Your hips are moving on their own! You're having fun!
  71. You were lost in your own bubble that was being shared with a couple hundred other people. Your ears stopped trying to find any order in the notes. Your mind opened up and stopped trying to make sense of the world, because the world was fighting tooth and nail against sense.
  72. Just feel it. Just feel it.
  73. You opened your eyes. Your friend wasn't there. You looked around in a half panic and saw only people you don't know. She said stick with her and now she has become unstuck to you. But you don't think of tucking your arms in and worming for the nearest exit.
  74. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Dreamy washes of reds and blues wave through the lids. The lights were a dreamy kaleidoscope. Music shook the soles of your feet and made your knees quiver.
  75. There was a flow going on here. A rhythm. It would be pointless to fight it, and stupid to leave it.
  76. A tap on your shoulder.
  77. She was back. The long line of her mouth was curled up in satisfaction. She held a glass up to your lips and its contents tipped down your throat as naturally as air. You giggled airily and grabbed onto her shoulder as she knocked back her own shot.
  78. You prolly weren't s'posed to accept drinks like that, but fuckkit, this girl is your friend. Evenn tho you've only talked to her 'bout 4 times. You never ever ever had thiss kind of fun before. Besides, you told your mom where you'd be anywaysss...
  79. The warehouse was incredibly hot. All the heat and sweat sunk around the dance floor like steam in a bowl. Beads of perspiration dripped down your bangs tingled onto your nose. Your heart thump-thump-thumped and your lips split to breath in the humid and musky air.
  80. The two of you danced away. The insides of your ears were turning dull. The music turned into cotton, and the roar of the crowd sounded like waves hitting the shore. The tips of your fingers were pleasantly numb, and the girl you were dancing with just seemed so warm...
  81. You looked up as she bathed herself in the prismatic shower. You couldn't stop staring. The line of her jaw was strong, and her close-cut shock-white hair made her look more handsome than beautiful, but the smooth fold of her lips and set of her eyes carried an allure that went beyond male or feminine beauty. She had a straight, sharp nose that lead up to expressive eyebrows that looked very amused. Her eyes were glowing even if the strobes slid away from them.
  82. A sober little corner of your brain felt embarrassed for staring so long. Your cheeks burned and you turned your head down to stare at boots that were shuffling on their own terms. A firm finger met beneath your chin and pointed your head up, up, up, and back into her gaze.
  83. "Um," you said decisively before popping a bubble of giggles. She slid the tip of her nai along the bottom curve of your lip, down your chin, and sailed it around your jaw. Her fingers meandered and circled on your earlobe before opening palm-wide against the back of your head and pulling you closer to her.
  84. "Ah.'re really. Heh. Hell. Whoopsy. Shouldn'a said that." Could she even hear you? Did it matter? You felt her hand move down your back. "Bad word. Bad, bad badbadbad..."
  85. She lowers her head whispers straight into your ear, "I'm pretty bad myself." Her hand goes lower. Her other fingers run down your forearm and twine around your own fingers. Your hand is guided into the air without resistance. Her other hand circles around the bottom of the rear you've tucked into tight jeans. You can feel her nails through the denim and it tickled. You jerk closer to her by reflex. She laughs. For some reason you half expected fire to jump out of her throat. Her exploration-hungry hand raises your other arm into the air.
  86. "I'm good. I'm a good girl, y'know. Been one allll my life," your half-whisper sounds like you just bit into an onion. Your body snakes from your hips and into your chest. Her nostrils flare.
  87. "You smell like a good girl. I bet you've never broken a rule before, yeah?" She draws her hands up your side. You're pulled in even closer.
  88. "Yeah. Yes, yeah..." You close your eyes as the tips of her nails dragged lightly on your neck. Your teeth nipped on the inside of your lip. "Yes." She held your head in both hands. Her mouth drew near and her hot breath poured across your mouth and down your neck.
  89. "Aren't you just the sweetest lamb in the den of lions?"
  90. God, you're sweating. You realized you've been grinding against her this whole time. The space between your legs brushed and dragged across her thighs. You just wanted to be close to her. She noticed your lightning moment of realization.
  91. "You are the cutest little dweeb."
  92. >Her left hand went down and cupped your lower cheek. You gasped and went to your tiptoes in surprise. Your chin touched her own briefly. She blew the white bangs out of her hair and smiled.
  93. "I don't wanna be a lamb." Your head rested on her chest. "Not anymore. It's not cool. Baa. See? Not cool like you." She groped your butt, driving your grind deeper and longer into her. Her own body started to reciprocate. "How'd you do it? You just stand there just looks like you can eat the whole world if y'felt like it."
  94. She licked her lips and turned your ear to her mouth once more. "Come with me," she husked.
  95. She grabbed your hand and pulled away like a bird taking off. You whimpered twice -once because of the sudden expanse of space between you, and again because you were being dragged across the tightly jammed crowd of drunks and stoners.
  96. "Hoo, okay. Okay" It was like going from zero to lightspeed. The colors and noises turned blurry, bright, and rushed past you, like you were going up a waterfall of pastels. The only steady thing in your vision was the tall girl holding your hand and pulling you forward.
  97. Oh, but you would follower her anywhere.
  98. She dragged you through shadows and empty spaces. Past bars and rooms filled with smoke. A dark room where small red lights lurked with vague menace. Your feet stumbled, but you never tripped. You heard a heavy metal door slide back.
  99. A cloudy purple sky lit with the grungy orange of city night lights met you. It looked like she lead you into a small loading bay. There was a rail leading down a ramp and some steps around a square concrete recess. A lone halogen bulb stood sentry over a desolate concrete refuge populated only by damp, crushed remnants of cigarettes and a few wayward moths.
  100. The music and stomping of the crowd inside sounded once more like a dragon rampaging in a stone dungeon far below. You heard cars and trucks roaring on a far off highway. The white, gaussed blur of the moon above the cloud line showed that it was paying no attention.
  101. The air felt cold and heady out hear. She went to lean against the rail and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the folds of her aviator jacket. You wanted to feel warm again. You half-stumbled to her side like a kitten that wanted to be scratched behind the ears. She tapped the bottom of the pack and plucked out the white stick that poked out. She did it once more and held it in front of you.
  102. You pulled one out and stuck it into your own mouth, inexpertly. She pocketed the red-and-white package and pulled out a box of matches.
  103. Strike.
  104. The air sizzled and the tiny flame stretched and clawed at the cold. She brought the tamed little fire to the cigarette, cupping her hand around the fire. She inhaled and the cigarette sizzled as it caught some warmth for itself.
  105. She held the burning wood before the tip of your cig. You steered it into the flame inexpertly with one hand and sucked in deeply and rapidly, hoping it was the right way to do it.
  106. Hot air and chemicals went down your throat and into your lungs way too fast. You grasped the smoke and coughed over and over. She laughed and patted your back firmly.
  107. "Easy now. Jeeze, you'll be sounding like a forty year old hooker in a week." She laughed like striking matches again. You smiled weakly. She drew a smooth pull from her cig and expelled a wisp of dark smoke from between her lips. "Hell, but it ain't like I sound like a fucking choir girl, huh?" Another pull.
  108. You took a drag yourself. Slower this time. You coughed a little bit, but you could see how people get enjoy this. You blew out your first puff of smoke. "I like the way you sound."
  109. She took another pull before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth and resting her arm against the rusted rail. "'S that so?" You nod.
  110. "Uh-huh. You know, tough. Cool. It's different." Your head swayed back and forth. The wind was pulled in between the brick walls. You breathed on the stick between your lips again. "Uh. I'm gonna have to wash my clothes a billion times after this." The girl next to you laughs like a grenade went off in her throat.
  111. "Ah shit," she shakes her head. "If you were any cleaner I could stick you in a bottle and wipe down toilets with you." She drew a hand around your waist and pulled you to her side.
  112. Ah. Nice. Warm. You looked down and tried to hide your smile. You felt like you should be more confused...
  113. "But you said you don't want to be clean anymore, right?"
  114. You frowned and shook your head. "No. Nah. It's no fun. I mean, look, every Halloween I can remember I dressed up as Raggedy Ann. Or Jesse from Toy Story."
  115. "Aw jeeze..."
  116. "I know!"
  117. "So you want to dress up as something slutty instead? Red-and-black bra with tassel hangin' off the nips and all?" She stuck her fingers on the side of her head. "Maybe a sexy little pair of horns?"
  118. "Maybe." You took a pull from your cigarette to picture yourself in something so outlandish. "Maybe."
  119. "I think...I know exactly what you want, chick." You look at her from the corner of your eye.
  120. "What's that?"
  121. "You want to do a lot more living than you've been doing. You want something new, something exciting. Feel things you've never felt before, am I right?"
  122. You nod and smile.
  123. "Then I'm real glad I found you then. Hell, I'm all -about- living." She blows out more smoke that curls around your hair. "My dick's getting hard just thinking about it."
  124. You frown.
  125. "Joking, chick. Damn."
  126. "Oh." You twiddle the cigarette between your fingers. "Can I ask you a question?"
  127. "Shoot."
  128. "Do you actually take classes?" She tossed away a bud and you watched the embers skid across the ground. She pulls out another cigarette.
  129. "Sometimes." She lights up. "College isn't exactly my scene, but I'm kind of in between right now." You looked a little puzzled.
  130. "Your in between scenes?"
  131. "Yeah, yeah. Last town I was in was full of a bunch of faggots and shit-heads." She snorted. "People you always thought were hot-shit turn around and cool off and turn into cold pieces of crap." Her voice carried more bite. "It sucks a lot of balls when that happens."
  132. "Oh. So you moved away-"
  133. "Because it was time to move on. Do what you gotta do, you know?"
  134. "Well, you seem to be doing good here. The door-guard guy-"
  135. "Bouncer."
  136. "The bouncer seems to like you." Smoke hung around her contemplatively.
  137. "Yeah. Finn's alright. I'm doing alright. More or less. But different is different, and home's always going to be home." Her heavy boot kicked a rock off the edge of the concrete. "Fuck, I sound homo right now."
  138. "I can sorta see what you mean. I moved around tons growing up. I hated that feeling -losing friends as soon as you make them." You dropped you bud to the floor and ground out the ember with the tip of your boot. "Different is different." The wind picked up and you shivered. A hand glides over your shoulder blade and down your arm. You feel her body move behind you. She feels cozy.
  139. Her left arm wraps around your stomach. You place your own left hand on the sleeve of her jacket. You feel her breasts against your back as she draws up on you. Her nose nuzzles into your hair. She breathes deeply. You can smell the heady cigarette smoke from so close, but it's so intoxicating when mixed with her own musk.
  140. "Different is different." she husked. "But sometimes different is good, yeah." Her right hand slipped to the front of your shoulder.
  141. "Yeah..."
  142. Her teeth graze the back of your neck. You shiver, but not from the cold. "And you get to see..." her lips glazed over the rim of your ear, "and feel.." down your check, "so many different fucking things..." she starts to turn you around. You don't resist. "when you -really- live."
  143. "Do you?" you half-mutter, as her lips press against the edges of her lips. Your hands are resting upon her shoulders, kneading at the heavy leather of her coat.
  144. "This is what you want, right?" She kisses you. You breathe in through your nose, taking in her own sweeping exhalations. Oh, you just want her to stay there. She pulls away and places another kiss on your bottom lip.
  145. "Yes," you mutter as she takes little tugs at the plump flesh. "Yes, please. I want it, I want it. Oh."
  146. "Damn." She licked her teeth. "I was hoping you'd say that."
  147. All of the air was hacked out of your lungs. Your stomach twists like someone's trying to pull it out of your back with ratchets. You doubled over hard enough to fall to the ground, but your mid-section was stil being held. Both of her arms braced around your shaking body.
  148. "Sorry chick, but this is really going to suck for you."
  149. "What the hell are you talking about?" is what you would've yelled had you any air to yell with. Your throat turned itself into a throbbing vacuum that threatened to eat your tongue.
  150. Oh crap. Crap. Long fingers came up your throat. Your own hands gripped onto the rusted iron railing and squeezed so tight you thought your fingers would break. That wouldn't have been so bad had it been the only thing to happen.
  151. Fire crept up your spine. Nerves and cartilage revolted and rebelled against signals being sent from the brain. Rogue messages and unwanted flashes of electrical pulses clashed with each other in a body that was being hijacked by an agent that was setting your body on fire from the inside.
  152. Your lungs relented and you sucked in air like it was the last breath you'd ever take.
  153. Then you spat it back out. You screamed too. You screamed loud. It echoed across the cloudy sky along with the cheering and beats of the warehouse.
  154. "Was that my voice?" You thought in a delirious corner of your mind. You would've started running as far and fast as you could if you ever heard something like that. You tried to shake her off, but her grip wasn't going to anything unless otherwise told.
  155. "Let me go! Let go! Doc" Throat closed again. "Call my mo-" You madly tried to reach for your phone. Just call your mom. She'll come pick you up. She always said she'd come by and pick you up if you were in trouble. She wouldn't be mad at you. No questions ask until the morning -promise.
  156. Your hands just stiffened like oak as you hit yourself in the chest. Your knees jerked. Your heart beat with the same urgency of a bird trapped in a room. You opened your mouth again for another good yell.
  157. She stuck something hard in between your teeth and your jaw slammed down hard. You groaned miserably as thick saliva dribbled from your drawn lips, down the front of your shirt and onto the concrete.
  158. "Don't need you biting your tongue. Chomp all you want. It helps a little." Your neck jerked hard enough to make her stumble. "That was a lie, it doesn't." Sweat was all over the both of you. Your body's temperature was skyrocketing. Blood threatened to boil through your veins and eat your skin away.
  159. "Shit, shit shit," she grumbled. Your bucking was starting to give her a run for her money. She wrangled with you up and down the railing. "Goddammit hold sti-"
  160. You twisted in a hard, jerky parody of a ballet and spun the pair of you over the rail and into the concrete slabs of the loading bay recess. Smack. That shocked your already shocked body. A mental nail gun was shot into the back of your skull. More hard pangs joined in the absolutely miserable party going on in your party. The plastic whatever-the-hell she put in your mouth fell out. You bit your tongue. You shuddered.
  161. The girl was laying a few feet away from you. She was cursing and gradually picking herself up from the concrete. You tried to drag yourself away, grazing and cutting your arms on the tiny bits of glass and sharp uncaring pebbles.
  162. She pulled herself up the sides of the recess, shaking her head. "You may as well hold still. No running away from this, chick. Not now."
  163. What did she give you? Alcohol isn't supposed to do this to you, right? Or cigarettes? Maybe you had a deathly allergy and never knew it. Great. Wonderful. You're going to die from shock and narcotics poisoning in the backlot of some punk rock clubhouse. You should've stayed home. Netflix never killed anyone.
  164. The spasms came back. They hit your legs. You rolled onto your back as the hells of your boots scraped and slashed on the gravel. If they were made of metal sparks would've sprayed up from the striking. Your feet felt hot enough to melt the leather of your boots. Your groaned and tried to kick them off, but they were tightly laced and went high up your shins.
  165. The bones in your feet cracked. You screamed vainly into the air again. You broke your leg once climbing a tree as a child. That was nothing compared to this pain. Every ligament and joint popped and refitted itself. Muscles twitched, detached, and bulged. Your toes curled and unfurled. Flailing around like little people trying to escape a burning building. The sides of your boots began to stretch. The rubber, plastic and leather groaned. Your feet widened against their confines. Stitching snapped and popped. You looked down in sweltering terror and confusion as your toes emerged from the front of the boot.
  166. Curling black nails pierced through tattered remnants of your socks. The flexed and thrashed, tearing the front of your shoes to ribbon. You cried at the sight. "These boots cost a ton." The delirious little bit of you thought. You looked to the shadowy girl who was leaning against the wall. She'd lit another cigarette. The small ember lit the hard cuts of her eyes.
  167. "HELP. ME." You yelled with the desperation and force of a drowning woman. She cracked her knuckles and approached with a casual swagger.
  168. "Sure." She leaned down next to you and grabbed your thrashing leg with all the poise and lightning speed of someone grabbing a cobra by the head. It jerked in her grip, but she didn't let go. With her other hand she grabbed the top of your boot and tore. It split off your shins like a banana. She ripped away the remnants of your sock, and did the same with your other foot.
  169. Your feet didn't look like your feet. They were swollen, veiny, and incredibly misshapen. Your toes were spread and thick, the big one looked like it was traveling up the side of your foot. Your nails turned hard, long, black, and shiny. Thick, dirty blonde hair was sprouting out on the tops. You covered your mouth and wept.
  170. She picked up your right leg and ran her palm up your soles before sticking her fingers in between the space of your toes and began to message. It eased the pain somewhat. The throbbing timed itself to her motions. Your foot lengthened.
  171. "The first time is always the biggest bitch. You're handling it pretty good if it means anything. Hah."
  172. Your feet continued to grow and pulse, become more animalistic and paw like. The fur grew up your legs. Your thighs began to buck. "This'll be sweet." She licked her shiny teeth again. You propped yourself onto your elbows and tried to hold them down. She swatted your hands away.
  173. "Just lie down, cover your head and keep screamin'. This's gonna take a while." Your thighs made an expansive throb like a small chain of grenades your going off in your legs. You felt strong hands undo your belt and buttons of your jeans.
  174. "What are-." another groan. "Fuck. What are you doing?" She made a "eeeh" sound and she pulled down your zipper, showing off the sweaty white panties you were wearing.
  175. "I know what this looks like, and it sorta is, but this just makes things a crap ton easier, so deal." She put both hands on the flaps of your jeans and tore. You gasped as she ripped the seams apart like they were paper, exposing your pale, soft thighs to the cold night air. She flung them away.
  176. Every muscle in your leg was visible, quivering like tadpoles swimming in the water. You've always liked your legs. They weren't too curvy, but they weren't ramrod straight either. Not that you had the chance to show them off much...
  177. Muscles and bone cracked and splintered themselves into new positions. Your legs looked like a big cat's -thick and powerful. The cheeks of your rear turned solid and rounded, curving more seamlessly into the back of your thighs.
  178. The heat and quiver crept forward again, up and up and -oh no.
  179. You mewled helplessly. The space between your legs tightened. Your hand scrabbled over the front of your panties as your huge, unwieldy legs crossed themselves in pain and...and something else. "No. Unh! Make it stop!" You groaned as your lower lips quivered. The girl pulled you away and stuck her hand on the rim of your panties.
  180. "But this is one of the best parts." She winked. In a swift motion she ripped your underwear away and saw your scared little sex. You looked down at it, but where she was interested you were scared and embarrassed. Your cheeks burned even redder. Wetness dripped down as the formerly thin and simple lips grew thick and long. You always kept it trimmed and clean down there, and you despaired as thick, dark hair sprouted up around your groin like an unkempt lawn. It tickled. It burned. You fell to your back while hugging yourself and biting your lip, trying not admit it felt good.
  181. Then you felt a hand down there. The tips of her fingers brushed over the new dark and fur-like hair. You shuddered as two fingers lazily grazed up and down the sides of your fat, furry lips.
  182. "No, please, don't do tha-" you half wept, half groaned before she squeezed gently to get your attention.
  183. "Shhh, shhhh..." she whispered, as she resumed stroking you. Your hips swayed forward into her as her fingers went up and down. "It's alright. Just take it easy." She massaged around your transfigured womanhood and the inside of your beastly, muscular thighs.
  184. "My phone..." you said in a half-daze. "Have to..." Gasping as she slipped a finger inside you. "Need to call-"
  185. "Shhh. Shhh." She blew across your glistening lips. She brushed her fingers higher and higher, pushing back the bottom of your shirt and revealing your stomach. A spearhead of fur traveled up your navel and down your sides likes honey.
  186. You began to hyperventilate again when your lower abdomen pinched and tremored. Four spots of skin darkened and swelled. Her fingers teased, pinched, and swirled around the increasingly sensitive area, obviously enjoying the nervous and strained grunts you made through clenched teeth.
  187. Little pricks of skin rose and stiffened, turning undoubtedly into nipples. They turned puffy with the small amount of breast tissue that grew beneath them. She thumbed them slowly.
  188. "Wh-What the hell am I turning into?" She looked at your red, irritated eyes and spoke without changing pace.
  189. "It's complicated. I've never been too good at explaining things." She looked up and rolled her eyes, thinking. "well, you'll see soon enough." You wanted to throw handfuls of rock a broken glass in her face for all of that effortless nonchalance, but your arms were useless at the moment. You threw your hand back to the ground and grit your teeth.
  190. "Why are you doing this to me? " She scoffed.
  191. "You told me you wanted something different. Like, five minutes ago. Right over there" She hooked a thumb behind her." She shook her head and placed her hand back on your new nipples.
  192. Time to get mad. You haven't much practice at it, but now seemed like the best opportunity to start. "What the kind of -of fucked up brain do you have that makes you think this is different or even 'okay' and not, nnnn...nngh." You shook your head. "Not completely sociopathic and...and...OW!" She gave one of your nips a twist.
  193. "Look chick, you're the one who decided to hang out with the bitch in scary clothes that smokes in school all day, right? I'm not into false advertising, and I think you're a little too smart to misread what I'm about. You tagged along, drinking and smoking what I gave you because...well, I guess you were just bored."
  194. "But how can you just do this to people?" She rolled her eyes. "Leading them into alleys and-"
  195. "It's not like this is a habit for me." She smiled wickedly. "You're special." You groaned and hid your face, not able to do much more than shiver in disfiguring ecstasy while the paws of your feet scraped in the dirt. She sighed.
  196. "If it means anything, from what I can tell from all this," She ran her hands along your stomach and the sides of your legs, making you shake and squawk. "You are going to be -REALLY- fucking hot when this business is done." Her smile was not dissimilar to a gardener pleased at her blooming flowers in spring. "I might a little jealous."
  197. "You're enjoying this," you sneer.
  198. She shrugged like you just said the color blue is blue. "Duh." She curled her lip and put an end to the conversation. She rubbed deep into your expanding hips and joints, migrating to your teats, groin, inner thighs, and back again.
  199. "Ohhh...." You chewed your lip. You moaned and gasped, despite yourself. It was soothing, and encouraged deep, regular breathing.
  200. Which was good because it was going to be a while before you could breathe comfortably again. The pain came back with a vengeance.
  201. Your vertebrate lit up like vegas lights. The turmoil party was back in full swing and you opened your mouth and yowled for all it was worth. Your heart pumped with enough force to push a bike in the Mint 400. Your arms came to their sense if not their full strength and clawed at your chest. If you could rip open your sternum and pull that beating thing out you would have.
  202. "Get it out! Get it out!" Your ribs groaned inside your torso like metal bars being twisted out of shape. The girl stood over your and grabbed the collar of your shirt.
  203. Tear, pull.
  204. "DAMMIT!" you yell with a ferocity that shocked you. More cold air on your body. She hooked her finger under the center bridge of your bra. You grabbed her arm with both hands and snarled. "You pull my tits out I swear I'm going to kick your ass up and down the highway even if this does kill me."
  205. "Ooh, someone's found their balls." She yanked. Your modest chest jiggled in front of her eyes. She looked hungry. Your arms crossed over your chest reflexively.
  206. "Get the hell away from me," you hiss. A smile spread on her face like an oilspill and her harsh hazel eyes lit up. She grabbed your wrists and pinned your arms to your side, and took in the sight of your hard, pointed nipples sitting ontop of sweat-glazed breasts.
  207. Yes, she was enjoying herself, but the way her brows furrowed made it clear she was trying very hard to keep from enjoying herself -too- much. She let go of your arms and palmed your tits. She shook her head, grimacing.
  208. "These are pretty cute." She shook them playfully. "Shame you don't get to keep them, but like I said, you're shaping up to be hot anyways." She threw her hands back and the groan of your ribs continued.
  209. You slammed the back of your head into the concrete and let out a steady stream of obscenities that you were surprised to know. Your chest cracked and barrelled out. You were terrified to know that you breasts were steadily dissappearing, falling into your newly muscled torso. She stept off you and walked over to the wall.
  210. You rolled over and your arms straightened out, your bones turning rigid and unyielding. Fur crept down your shoulders and to your elbow. Bulging muscles chiseled themselves into a layout more suited to walking on all fours. You cried as your joints dislocated and snapped back together in accordance of some unknown blue-print.
  211. The brown fur stopped its growth near your elbows. The skin on your forearms and hands itched wildly as a thousand invisible ants were biting on every little bit of exposed skin. Your forearms bubbled and wrinkled. The skin yellowed and turned bumpy, like corn on the cob. Small golden scales hardened and sealed themselves onto your arms.
  212. They sizzled up in wide, thick patterns over the tops of your hands. You swore and wailed fruitlessly as your thumb stretched out, out, and around to the back of your palm, giving your hand a Y shape. Your nails blackened and grew, overtaken the tips of your fingers, and turned into long, shiny cruel looking talons that dug deep into the ground.
  213. The bracelets that were tremendously overheated by your changing body were now your only pieces of clothing, you realize. The tinkled with inanimate obliviousness on your hawkish hands.
  214. You lifted your head. Drool swung down in heavy beads and pooled on the dirt. You turned back and looked with bleary eyes at your ruined body. You looked completely inhuman, save for your head and shoulder girdle. You had much more bulk than before. Fine cuts of muscle could be seen beneath the fur. Your arms and legs trembled like the frightened school girl you were.
  215. Your body lunged forward and swung your back into a high arch like a monstrous yoga instructor. Your teeth gnashed as your tail bone extended out, long and lashing. Your buttocks clenched and your anus puckered while skin was pushed to its limits along your newest anatomical addition like dough.
  216. Your tail grew in quickly enough. A tuft of black fur swung at its long end -it was a lion's tail. Was that it? You were turning into a lion? What now -were you going to be put in a zoo?
  217. This line of thought was derailed by sickening splitting noise that came between your shoulder blades.
  218. "Oh, this is another good part." Your compassionate new friend had resumed her smoking and was content to enjoy the show. "Shoulda brought a camera with me. This beats the hell out of the movies."
  219. You wanted to beat the hell out of her. Hopefully whatever you're turning into will let you pounce and rip her to chunky, tobacco scented pieces. In the meantime you could only sob and shriek as great gobs of skin recollected and reconfigured into bone and sinew between your shoulder blades. Limbs rose and pointed to the sky like flesh-bound flowers. You body collapsed and you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to grab at the towering protrusions.
  220. They bloomed
  221. A display of black feathers pricked their way up your stalks and unfurled like your limbs were a plumage flag shaking in the wind. The ends were tipped with orange. They bent, spread, and flapped -catching the wind and rocking you to and fro. They were part of you and they weren't. Nerves haven't completely aligned with your brain yet. They flapped almost autonomously.
  222. You had a strike of absurd hope: maybe someone would come along with an axe and whack your head off in one clean swing. That way at least your head could roll away form whatever kind of monster the rest of you had become.
  223. What the hell were you now? Not a lion, not a bird. A chimera? What would happen next? Would a snake crawl out of your belly button? Maybe a goat's head would split off from your face.
  224. You laughed. You laughed, howled, and cackled before you covered your head with your scaly yellow bird hands and their vicious obsidian talons that cut your flesh. You wept quietly. Sad little sniffles shook your predatory body.
  225. "This isn't," you whisper, "isn't supposed to happen to me. Not me, I-I-I..."
  226. You hear your friend slide down into a sitting position against the brick. She took a crackling drag. Exhale. "Why isn't this supposed to happen?"
  227. "Because." You try to steady your voice, but fail. "Because I'm good. I'm a good girl, I swear, I," you swallow, and try to keep talking despite how ravaged your throat is. "I study. I do my homework on time, and read books and..." you wipe your eyes with calloused claws that belong to a freak. "write poetry....ride my bicycle." You fall into a miserable well.
  228. "I only wanted to be a little bit bad for one night. Just to see what I was missing. Please." you look at the girl who's sitting with one boot sticking out towards you.
  229. She ran her hand through her short, white hair as if wiping away a cloud of guilt.
  230. "Honestly?" she said, "I believe you. 'S why I picked you out of all the other mousy little skirts that scurry up and down those halls. You're good. Honest-to-big-tits good. But me?" She tapped her chest with the hand holding the cigarette. "I -am- bad. And you know how bad girls always want to take good things for themselves."
  231. She took a slow pull from her smoke like it contained all of her thoughts in the world. "Have you ever lost a good thing? It fucking sucks. So I'm taking another." She puffed out a small cloud.
  232. "You're almost done -I swear." You heaved as her words punched you in the gut.
  233. "This still isn't over with?"
  234. "Nope."
  235. "You fucking BITCH!" you bellowed "I'll RIP YOUR GODDAMN LIVER OUT FOR THIS!"
  236. She shrugged.
  237. As if that was permission for your body, your face felt like a million needles were squeezing out through her pores. A soft layer of down spread over your face like a mold. Thin, pliable feather bases pushed out on your brow and neck. Your skull creaked like an old door while it pushed outwards. Your eye sockets grew large.
  238. It was like your face being melted inside a cast-iron mold. Your face, your sweet, dainty face turned predatory. Long, sharp, and undeniably bird-like Your hair fell out and was replaced by a forest of sweeping and spiky black feathers. You never were claustrophobic, but the all-encompassing dark plumage made your airway feel cluttered. You took deep, rackety gulfs of air. Your lips hardened and pointed out in a downward curve. You lost your ability to talk.
  239. Not that it mattered much. You didn't have the presence of mind to talk. But you could still scream, but the part that really scared you was that you weren't simply screaming anymore.
  240. You were roaring. You were screeching. Your normally light and smooth voice deepened and turned rocky, like someone was rubbing sandpaper across your vocal chords. The unholy tumult that blew out of your pointed, severe beak sounded like a great lion and eagle tearing each other to ribbons.
  241. Your eyes grew large. The world far away grew sharp, then blurred, then sharp again, as your pupils adjusted to fit a form used to watching out for small, running things in the distance.
  242. Your mouth continued to curve out. Turning hard and yellow. It ate up your nose, leaving only small little slits for nostrils. Your mouth narrowed and your gums sank into the sides of your beak, pushing out your teeth like unwanted guests. They clattered on the ground with the same ring as cheap change.
  243. Then everything lined up. Your feet. Your legs, tail, wings, talons. It all found its equilibrium. You reared back on your powerful hind legs. Your wings spread tall. You opened your gullet and you let it all out. You roared. Because you were pissed. Because you were hurt. Because you were scared.
  244. Roar. Just roar.
  245. "I knew you'd be hot."
  246. You deflated and sunk to the ground in an undignified pile. Exhausted, aching like you just ran through every room in hell. Your teats throbbed and your vagina still felt hot. Your wings instinctively wrapped themselves around you like a blanket. She stood up and threw her cigarette away.
  247. "Well, no point in you having all the fun." She cracked her knuckles and began to strip.
  248. She pulled off her jacket in one smooth motion. Unbuckled her belt, slipt off her shirt. Her undershirt. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her body was lithe. White, and well toned. Her shoulders had a hard cut to them. Hints of abdominals were on her chest. Her breasts were bigger than they looked while smuggled away inside her coat. She had small, sharp nipples. The cut of her naked torso could tear apart diamonds.
  249. She pulled off her boots and kicked them away. Wasn't wearing any socks. Her dark and jangly jeans slid down her deceptively shapely legs along with her underwear. She threw them into the scattered pile behind her.
  250. She took a moment to stretch. You watched her from down there on the ground. Even now after what she did to you -invade your body from within and without. Groping you and stroking you as your flesh boiled and twisted. Stealing away your humanity between long, strong fingers.
  251. She caught you staring. She took all the smirk and smug that could be rung out. Her teeth gleamed and glinted while she framed her groin with thumbs and forefingers. Her cream colored pubic hear splayed out over the tight slit of her womanhood.
  252. She sashayed her hips, exposed the perky curve of her ass and gave it a hearty slap that echoed up the brick walls. "Hottest date in town, huh?"
  253. You couldn't disagree. Even now she looked handsome. Beautiful. You felt a yearning deep in your womanly loins that shamed you. She had been touching you just moments ago. Those dextrous fingers and malicious palms were sailing, prodding, pinching and pulling at crying and unwilling flesh. You hated her. You wanted her to do it again.
  254. Nude as she was, she still had the attitude of being fully clothed. She could walk through a crowded mall and no one would dare give her any lip with those stone-cut eyes of her.
  255. "It's been a while." She roared louder than you. Her body tensed and pulsed. Her face looked up to the sky. Eyes closed in intense concentration. A heavy tranquility. Her legs shifted and her feet turned wide. Claws bursting from her toes and fur running in smooth flourishes up and down body. She smiled as her hands turned into avian claws, flexing proudly. She swooped down to all fours, as her wings sprouted and flowered without the frankensteinish jerk of your own.
  256. She nearly looked to be enjoying the experience. She wasn't fighting it. She was guiding it. She may as well have been putting on her favorite outfit. Her face cracked and her head turned into an eagle. Her eyes fluttered open -golden yellow.
  257. Body of a lion, head and wings of an eagle. She was a griffon. That's what you were now. The impossible thing flapped its wings, jangling the knives of her feathers. Despite being covered in fur and feather, she carried the same kind of clear chisel that attracted you to her in the first place. There was an unshakeable pride to her. Her center of gravity was an unbreakable core of stone that she based her entire life around. The light diffused around her, making her glow in the ghostly light of the loading bay.
  258. She wouldn't look out of place on a tall cathedral buttress. A vulgar gargoyle, expertly crafted and frightening as a matter of function. You couldn't believe what happened to you, but you had more trouble believing what was breathing before you. An impossible thing that lept right out of myth to seduce and twist you.
  259. "I needed that." She approached. You pounced her. Badly. You weren't sure how to maneuver around on four legs, but unfocused or not, they were still powerful. You launched forward like an ungainly firecracker.
  260. She could read your coiling muscles like a large-print book, though. She dodged and caught you, slamming you into the gravel where all of your wind left you.
  261. "Nice try, but do that again and I'll hurt you." Her curving beak snapped as she looked you up and down, appraising you. Her wings trailed along the contours of your massive lioness body. "And I'd hate to hurt something this sexy." She twisted one of your nipples. You growled loudly and backed away.
  262. "Dammit, you're cute. Ha!" She stood tall and stared you down. You felt the urge to roll into your back, paws and claws hanging helplessly in the air.
  263. "That's a good girl." She rewarded you submission with a gentle rake of her claws down your chest and stomach. "Good girl." You started to cry, unable to process your rage, fear, and sadness.
  264. "You bitch, you fucking bitch." You say listlessly. You didn't even look at her. Hearing your deep, rumbling voice frightened you. It felt like a bag of stones was in your throat. You never want to talk again.
  265. "Yeah, that's me," she said. Her talons gripped lightly around your neck. "But I'm -the- bitch, right?" You nod. "Good. But don't worry, I'm fun too. And that's what you wanted, right." She leaned into the side of your head. Her beak nuzzled into your dark feathers. "Something fun. Something different." Her claws left you throat and rubbed your chest. "You said it yourself, didn't you?" She pulled back and stared directly into your damaged soul.
  266. A tear ran down your large eyes. You saw your reflection in her large, sharp eyes. Your face was black and pointed. Orange flecks spread around your eyes in an ovular pattern. She had a similar coloration -purple plummage around her eyes. Your own eyes were the same deep green as always, but carried an echo of cruelty -severe and predatory, yes, but still scared above all.
  267. "Well?"
  268. "Yes. Yes I said that. I fucking said it."
  269. "Good," she cooed as she went back to nuzzling you. Your beak opened and shut as she explored your plummage and nudged the soft layer of down beneath. Her claws ruffledinto the proud tuft of feathers on your chest and went as far down south as she could reach. You felt like you should stop her, but lying down and being touched by her felt so...
  270. She looked even more attractive to you now. Her commanding poise and clean flow of her fur and feathers just pierced you. Her scent imprinted itself through your thin nostrils. Heavy, musky. She smelled of smoke -burning forest trees, not tobacco. You could practically taste her. You wanted her to leave you alone, but you wouldn't dare stop her from touching anywhere and anything she pleased. All too soon she pulled away. You whimpered at the abrupt stop.
  271. "Can't blow our loads all at once." She turned around as you writhed, temporarily overcome by the urge for any form of release. She wouldn't turn around until you composed yourself.
  272. She pulled you upright and circled you. You actually would've been a little taller than her if you had the moxie to stand at full flex, but the thought was absolutely alien to you. You were a good girl. You wouldn't do that.
  273. "Me and you." She tasted the idea. "This is gonna be great. You're gonna have a blast. I've got so much rad shit to show you. Honestly, it's gonna blow your mind." she winked "Not like I haven't blown it already." She bumped her rear into your own playfully. "Chin up, chick. I know your feeling a miserable wreck right now, blah-blah-blah, I've been through the same shit."
  274. She snapped her talons. "You need food. You're starving, ain't ya?" Your wings pulled in. You realized you were famished. You wanted something...fat....and wanted to chase it down.
  275. You shook your head. "No," you try to saw as quietly as you can to avoid hearing your rumbling tones. Anyone would have a hard time identifying you as female just from your voice. You could be lead singer for a death metal band and no one would bat an eye.
  276. She rolled her eyes. "Sure you are. I sure as fuck am." Her tail pointed to you and flicked to her. She stomped away. You followed clumsily, grimacing at the way fur rubbed against itself.
  277. "I'm a good girl. I am a good girl." you thought to yourself. "Right?" You looked at your body and despaired. A good girl? Hah. You weren't even human anymore. You thought you were smart, but you lost all rights to make that kind of claim. You were clearly stupid. Yes, that's exactly what you were. A big stupid monster.
  278. "Think I want Burger King. I ain't fucking cooking tonight. That sound good to you?"
  279. You had to stop mid stride. Did those words honestly just come out of her beak? "What?"
  280. "Burger King. It's crap, but I like that apple pie thing."
  281. The confusion on your face could be read from space, even if you weren't human. She laughed.
  282. "Wait, wait, oh hell, did you think I was gonna go swoop down and pull a fucking fox out of a field?" She cackled like an entire box of matches catching flame.
  283. She covered her brow and caught her breath.
  284. "Maybe?" She shook her head.
  285. "Skies no. I ain't cooking, why would I want to go run something down? Besides, the animals around here taste like free-range earwax."
  286. Something very obvious about this was bugging your mind that was nearing the point of total collapse.
  287. "How are....?"
  288. "Drive-thru. Duh." She looked back at you "I can go back and forth. It's really cool," she said as she picked up her clothes. "I'll teach you how. Eventually. Maybe." She winked, but a little more cruelly. "I need to have fun with you first."
  289. You could run. You could figure out how to fly, right? Just go to the nearest person, police, your mom, anyone. Explain what happened. They might listen to you. Or they might put you in a cage, but they'd take you away from the girl-who-wasn't-a-girl that did this to you. She was a griffin, but she was a spider as well -dark, and clacking. And you fell right into her web where she wrapped you up tight before poisoning you.
  290. But...but...
  291. "Stop slacking, c'mon!"
  292. You picked up the pace. The claws on your limbs clacked on the concrete. She was your only chance to turn human again. To turn back into a good girl.
  293. And you wanted to be a good girl.
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