Not quite

Your Status: Unknown (Possibly Infected)

Your Equipment: Nothing, Intertwined Backpacks

Your Inventory: Pistol (??/??)

You grasp the edges of the object again, slowly sliding it just far enough that you can squeeze through the gap. As you shimmy through, you definitely hear footsteps from down the hallway, and you panic, forcing yourself past the object, the rough cloth dragging against your nipples and ass. Popping out the far side, you immediately grab the object again, hauling against it with ll your strength, all pretenses of stealth forgotten for the moment. It grudgingly slides back into place, and not a moment too soon, as something slams into the far side. The objects waver a bit, but don't fall. You're left in pitch-blackness, and your hand immediately goes to the side of your pack, grasping for the flashlight you stowed in one of the outer pockets. Your fervent hopes that it remains there are rewarded on your second try, as you grasp the flashlight in a shaking hand. The objects rock again, as whatever it is behind you attempts to **** its' way through the blockage, and you quickly flick the light on, turning away from the objects.

With no idea where these passages go, or what you find, and a definitely-hostile Futa behind you, you're left with one option: run. You can only hope the obstacle holds the Futa long enough for you to escape, and that it doesn't attract any more to its' noise.