Wrong Turn Leads to Happiness (Female and Cuntboy)

Escape. That was all the furry creature could think about. He had been in this place for too long, and needed to get out, to get back home, back to the wilds of Siberia where he felt peace. The 5’8” feline was one of the world’s first cases of anthropomorphism, and the human scientists that had made the discovery had quickly clamped a tight lid on it. Known only as M4 in our tongue, and a series of growls in his own, the feline had been biding his time. He had waited until the dead of night in the labs, and then at the right time, had picked the lock on his cell. Now, with a parcel of food and several bottles of water, wearing only a loincloth to cover his privates, the tiger made his bid for freedom.

Having learned to read and speak English, the feline had memorized the pattern of shipments. One would come in every three days, almost like clockwork. They would drop off their supplies and then leave whenever they were done unloading. It was a process that took several hours, due to the different species of anthros there, as well as the human scientists, all living in the isolated lab. Slipping down to the loading docks, he had to check his map several times, both to avoid a few patrols and to make sure he was on the right course.

Getting into the loading area was the easy part; the harder part would be getting onto a truck while the crews were still milling about. Ducking behind a few garbage cans, the feline peeked out, watching the routine for a few minutes. Workers didn’t seem to have a set pattern, which made it difficult and also meant he had to do it in steps. He waited until the men were inside the truck and slipped out from his hidey hole, darting to another spot behind some boxes. Then he moved toward a crate, holding his pack close to keep the contents from rattling and making too much noise. There he waited until the men were outside the truck, setting down more of the cargo. He jumped out and intended to make for the truck, but got a half a step out before he realized there was one still in the truck, causing him to dive back behind cover.

“Hey Frank! This stuff comes too right?” the man in the truck called out. M4 peeked over the edge of the crate, seeing the man pointing to a large collection of bags.

“No Steve.” was the reply from one of the men, presumably Frank. “That stuff stays. We get rid of it in Seattle. That box to the right of you is the last of the stuff that gets delivered to the lab”

That was enough for the feline. He waited until the one called Steve had exited the truck and then he made a run for it, a blur of orange and white fur as he darted out from his spot, up into the truck, and then slipped amongst the bags. He arranged them so that they covered him, but gave him a little peep hole so that he could see out. That lasted about five minutes as the men closed the door of the truck.

An explosion and an earthquake happened somewhere near M4! At least that’s what it sounded like, as the driver of the truck started the engine and the big rig started rumbling. A few minutes later, just long enough for the feline to get used to the strangeness of the shaking and vibration, the truck started moving, startling the feline and slamming him into one of the bags. But he was on his way; that was the important thing.

He ended up falling asleep in that big rig as it made its way south, through British Columbia and then into the States. Having eaten before he snuck out, and wanting to conserve as much food as possible as he didn’t know how long his trip would take, he ate sparingly. Once in Seattle, he realized he had gone a different direction than intended, going south instead of west into Russia. But no matter, he’d find a way to get there.

He had to be doubly careful in Seattle, and it took him longer to stow away on another shipment. He found a container that said it was going to Japan, at least that’s what he figured when he didn’t recognize the writing but saw the white flag with the red spot in the middle. This almost was his undoing, as the latch stuck, and held, so that he couldn’t open it up, and he could hear human voices approaching. So he turned and found one that was easier to open up, and darted inside. Wasting no time, he cut open some of the tape holding the lid on one of the boxes in this container and jumped inside, more out of fear of discovery than rational thought.

Landing with a soft thump, eyes adjusting to the low light, he realized he was in a box of some kind of food. Upon further exam

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