Borrowed Time - Chapter 1 (Final) (Patreon)

Finishing chapter one of the new collaboration between myself, and my dear friend Firefox!

Written by Firefox 

Illustrated by Me

Full story here:  https://www.patreon.com/posts/31918817 

I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 1 <3 

Gonna be working on some Seeking Sherwood next, look forward to it!

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  The rest of Loretta’s home, while no less cramped, was far better maintained thanks entirely to her mother. Out in the hall, her mother had gathered up cleaning supplies and black trash bags. She waddled through carefully, emerging into the living room, where her mother greeted her with a smile. 

Behind her mother hung a portrait of what had once been their family, smiling big, portrait smiles. Her mother looked almost exactly the same, if a bit younger. Loretta remembered being somewhere around eight years old when that had been taken. She could barely remember what it was like to have been so small, just like how she could barely remember what her father was like, even as she looked at his likeness standing beside her mother, just behind a younger, drastically thinner Loretta.

“Lorrie?” her mother asked, tilting her head into Loretta’s field of view.

“Sorry,” Loretta murmured, feeling the pit of despair opening up inside her again, empty as ever.

Her mother smiled and shook her head. “I asked you when your friends would be getting here.”

“Oh… uh.” Loretta swallowed. Kyle hadn’t said when he would be picking her up. “Soon,” she said with a shrug. “I’m gonna wait in here until he gets here.”

“He?” Loretta’s mother raised a brow, but smirked and returned Loretta’s shrug. “Alright, but if you’re still here when I’m finished, I’m not going to be pleased.” She disappeared into the hallway, punctuating her departure with the rustling of trash bags and the dull clunk of plastics.

Alone again, Loretta made a beeline for the kitchen. The pantry was loaded with a spectrum of junk food. Sweets always seemed to fill the hole faster. She reached past the chips for a box of snack cakes, her other hand grabbing for a box of wafer cookies. With her snacks in tow, she waddled back to the living room and set herself down on the couch. She had done so carefully, but she could still hear a few wooden pops and cracks from beneath the cushions. Loretta felt as though they grew a bit louder and more ominous every time she sat on that piece of furniture, which made sense, as her weight was ever slowly increasing by the day.

The thought was pushed from her mind by the unwrapped snack cake she pushed into her mouth, followed by another, and another. Cheeks bulging, she began to chew, swallowing when the spongy chunks of mass-produced chocolate cake were just small enough to choke down. She emptied the box in minutes, crumbs and splotches of frosting decorating her beak and the feathery pudge surrounding it. Some of the bits vanished beneath her neckline, where they would then make their way across her feathery chest before depositing in her cleavage. 

Loretta wiped her mouth clean once she had sent the wafer cookies to join the rest, feeling somewhat better now that she was once again on the verge of being painfully overstuffed. Her shirt and hoodie were next, lazily brushing away the signs of her binge, but she didn’t bother beyond that. Dusting crumbs out of her tits took too much effort while dressed, so it would have to wait. 

She leaned to one side, making the couch groan loud enough to mask the smaller fart that slipped out as she grabbed the remote off a table. The flat-screen went through its warm up routine, and then suddenly went dark. Loretta pushed the power button again to no effect. She looked down at the remote to make sure she had pressed the right button, then back up at the screen. 

A pair of emerald green eyes stared back at her. 

"Hello there."

Loretta blinked, and they were gone, replaced with a public service announcement about fitness.

She shivered; eyes wide and feathers ruffled. A large part of her tried to reason that she had imagined it. At the same time, as she played the words through her mind, she couldn’t help but feel that the voice she had heard was somehow as familiar as those strikingly green irises. The memory began to resolve, slowly but surely, as she tried her hardest to remember. She quickly realized that it was not an actual memory, but a recollection of her dream.

Eyes and a voice became part of a vulpine face that wore a smile full of sharp teeth. She struggled to make more of the image come to the surface, remembering chairs and tables, crumpled wrappers and plastic trays.

Loretta was jolted back to reality by the sound of a car horn. As suddenly as the recollection had come to her, it was gone again. She glanced up at the television screen, but found little more than an interview, impulsively watching for several seconds.

“And I understand that recently you've received criticism over several items in your collection?” the reporter asked.

The recipient of the question, a heavyset draft horse, flashed a practiced smile. The caption labeled her as "Rebecca TreForte," and beneath that "Museum Curator."

“Unfortunately,” she began in a deep, commanding voice, lifting a white-furred hand to her chest, “but I can assure you that each and every item in our inventory was acquired through completely legal means."

"Which is why you're willing to cooperate with investigators?"

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Yes, but even if we were to inadvertently purchase something that had been stolen from a private collection or another museum, perhaps it's for the best if they leave it in our care. Our security is top of the line." She flashed a smug grin to the camera, and added, "I can confidently say that nothing will be leaving our possession in the same fashion."

Outside, another short, sharp burst of honks disturbed the peace. With a grunt of effort, Loretta heaved herself to her feet and made for the front door. 

“Sweetie, your friend is here,” her mother called from the other end of the hall.

Loretta hesitated at the door, rubbing her fingertips over the knob. Going out would make her mother happy, and just as importantly, Kyle was waiting in her driveway. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Love you mom,” she said as she opened the door. “Byeee!”