Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-32463050-20170719023704/@comment-36835899-20180908155410

"Aw, fuck."

My shoulders sag as I realize I'm going to have to help her out. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK..."

Yeah, she looks big enough to wrestle a bulldozer, and whatever rang her bell must have been even bigger. Nobody with the brains god gave a doorknob would get involved with this.

Still... I'm a special kind of stupid.

A quick once-over finds no broken bones, which helps. Fortunately I've got some experience moving drunks, so this shouldn't be TOO difficult. I shift her around and pull her arms over my shoulders, hunching forward to get her on my back. Her sheer mass is more than I'm used to, and she keeps slipping for some reason, but I manage to get her to my place before I totally exhaust myself.

I sit her on the couch for a moment and go rummaging through my closet, pulling out my first aid kit, an air mattress, and the inflation machine for it. While the mattress inflates I grab a couple of hand towels out of the bathroom and double-check the kit to make sure I've got everything I'll need. Finally, I shift the hellhound onto the mattress, rolling her on her back.

I blink in surprise as I look at her, seeing for the first time why she kept slipping on my back; as ripped as she is, she also sports an impressively large set of breasts. Catching myself staring I shake my head, refocusing my attention on her wounds. The bite is fairly neat, fortunately, with no extreme tearing of the skin. I clean it out and apply some antibiotic ointment, covering it with a gauze pad held in place with an elastic bandage wrapped around and under her arm. The bruising on her face looks ugly, but the trauma isn't as severe as it seems. I carefully clean her face anyhow, just to be sure. Satisfied with my work, I cover her with a light blanket and grab a book, settling back to read while I watch over her.

(To be continued, if there's any interest...)