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    Black Cats

    Black Cats Sequel to Black Cat. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Chapter 1 Early Tuesday morning I was awoken by the feeling of a pair of firm tits straddling my left thigh, a hard dick against my right foot and tongues licking my ironwood hard morning erection and pomegranate-sized balls. As I laid on my back with my eyes closed and soaked up the worship of the sister and brother I thought about all those fantastic things that happened to me in the past week. This whole adventure started last Monday when I found a little black cat in an alley downtown. When I picked up, cradled the purring furball in my arms and saw the beautiful electric blue eyes lovingly looking up at me I knew that I would do anything to keep her safe. I took the cat to a downtown veterinarian school for a check up and adopted Brenna, that’s what the vet named her, as soon as her exam was finished. After my long term cheat’n bitch of a girlfriend walked out on me later in the week I found out that Brenna was actually a kind of therianthrope; a being that can shapeshift into any form she chose. I uttered a moan from deep in my chest and put my big hands behind my head as I basked in the sensations emanating from my monster cock. I opened my eyes and looked down. The first thing I saw were my magnificent pecs. I had to lift my head to look over my overpowered hyper-masculine chest to see my ten pack abs and shredded obliques. I flexed and squeezed every muscle and watched as my pecs turned into hemispherical boulders with a deep vertical crevasse and each segment of my abs rose to stretch the thin skin and thick veins covering them. The two bodies covering my legs were raised by my massive quads and hamstrings. “Oh, fuck Bruce,” Brenna moaned. She kept her cat eyes and ears while taking the shape of an ultra-muscled sexy human female. “mmmm, I love it when you do that.” I felt her pussy against my shin leak a copious amount of cunt juice and drank in the rush of lust she emanated. You see, I wasn’t always the pinnacle of masculinity. Just a few days ago I was a 26 year old, short, obese, balding 9-to-5 office drone at an accounting firm in downtown Madison, right next to the capitol. The most exercise I ever got was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out why a client thought it would be a good idea to try to claim their new Lamborghini as a business expense when they owned a small deli that barely broke even in West Towne Mall. That all changed Friday night. Brenna did something to me that allowed me to capture and store emotional energy directed at me. I can use this energy to change myself; increase height, gain muscle mass, grow stronger and slightly change my appearance. Hell, I can even make my balls large enough to produce gallons of cum and my cock into a telephone pole. To reward Brenna for the delicious pre-breakfast emotion drink I added an inch of length and girth to my cock. She responded appropriately by loudly purring, unhinging her jaw and greedily taking my glans deep down her throat. Not only had Bre changed me physically, she also tweaked my psyche, amplifying my Id. This change allowed me to become the dominant personality I always yearned to be. Then early Saturday morning, she sent me off to Madtown Fitness, a gym on the south side by the beltline, to test my new body. There I broke my limits, both physically and mentally. I exceeded any physical expectation I had as I crushed all house lift records. Took any throat, pussy or ass I wanted. Exerted my dominance over everything and everyone. With one very painful exception, it was a fucking amazing day. “Oh, Gods, Daaaddy. That’s hot. That’s sooo fucking BIG.” Arthur, Brenna’s brother, whimpered into my scrotum between licks with a long, wide, soft dog tongue. Bre’s lips curled into a smile around my cock as I chugged his submission and rolled my eyes. I remembered how I met Art when I came home from the gym late Saturday night. Bre said he was an ex-boy friend that was in need of punishment. So I, now an uber dominant personality, made my physique explode. I must have grown well over seven feet tall and weighed over six hundred pounds, all muscle. I would have looked like a caricature of an over-the-top muscle bound freak if I didn’t have an extremely dangerous looking, three foot long, ten inch thick, rock hard cock sticking straight up from a low hanging scrotum containing testicles the size of a fastpitch softball. I ravaged Art’s throat and ass. I beat him to within an inch of death without realizing it. To save him I had to blow the whale sized load of cum. Consequently, Art says that now more than half of his DNA is from me, ergo, I’m his father. Yeah. That’s what I said, too. ‘Get our lazy ass up! Remember, I got a text last night from Keena saying we have a physical examination and lab work that has to be done before eight o’clock this morning or you can’t start work tomorrow,’ I heard in my head. That was another change. While meeting with Dr. Keena Panthera, the gym’s owner, Saturday the resident muscle head, Terry “Zapp Brannigan” Limppernoodle, attacked her. After I subdued the bastard she told me that he had sexually assaulted her, raped her. Even though I just met Keena that day, I felt an overwhelming instinct to protect her. Learning that she had been violated threw me into an uncontrollable rage. That rage ended with me on a shower floor and in my own vomit. I had snapped both of Terry’s femurs like twigs, ripped his arms off, crushed his head between my hands like it was a paper cup and ripped his genitals off. I tossed the bloody dick and balls at Keena’s feet like a trophy. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to indelibly stamp my dominance and superiority on her. My mom and uncle fought the last war. When my uncle returned he told me of fellow soldiers that were changed after their first kill, especially if it happened in hand-to-hand combat. I guess I changed that way, too. A part of me recoiled from the horror of what I did, splitting my mind into two equal and nearly opposite halves. The voice I just mentally heard calls himself Ego. He has an amplified intellect and is a fucking pain in the ass. He also can’t keep his pronouns straight. ‘I goddamn fucking asshole,’ Ego bitched. ‘I quit your job to work at the gym so he could fuck around all day long. Get my lazy ass out of bed!’ I reminisced about Sunday and Monday as I try to get my legs out from under my worshipers. Saturday night my BFF with benefits, Deb, the maniacal Uber driver, aimed me at a bored wife of a supplements company executive. On Sunday I met the wife and the couple’s maid in their mansion on Lake Mendota’s north shore. I found that not only did the husband have impeccable taste in cars and women, he also was having an affair with, and beat, the petite French maid. The next day, after proving my superiority in every way, impregnating the wife and making him a submissive cuck, I ripped away from him the things he loved the most (in reverse order); his wife, his mistress, his company and his W Motors Lykan HyperSport. Let me say right now that the irony of me owning a car named after a human that can change into a wolf is not lost on me. Art lifted his head from my balls. I was greeted with a big, panting, corgi face. Arthur’s ears wiggled as he said, “Are you gonna fuck me in the shower, Daddy? I’ve been a veeery bad doggy.” Art’s dog breath hit my nose like a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick, “Geez, Art! Your breath stinks! What the hell, have you been licking your ass again?” Art tilted his head to the side the way dogs do when you try to explain the symmetrical beauty of double entry accounting. “No,” he replied. “I’ve been licking yours.” Brenna chuckled while I moaned and gruffly commanded, “Get off me and brush your fucking teeth!” He whimpered and gave me puppy-dog eyes, but obeyed. He climbed off me and made his way to the bathroom with his tail between his legs. Literally. Bre pulled my cock out of her throat. The head popped out of her mouth. “Oh, good. You’re all mine now,” Bre murmured just before taking my entire length, down to the root, in her throat. Her mighty neck muscles started to ripple against my unyielding god-rod. I wanted nothing more than her servicing me for the rest of the day, but, as Ego said, I had things to do. “YOU need to make coffee and breakfast while I take a shower,” I declared. Her brow furrowed, eyes pleaded as she shook her head as best she could with a huge titanium rod stretching her esophagus and apple-sized glans in her stomach. I gripped the hair at the back of her head and started to pull her off me. “That wasn’t a request, cat.” At that she tightened her throat around my cock. Her neck muscles bulged, her traps thickened and rose up until they looked like steel I-beams and her back until it looked like an impenetrable mountain range as she fought against me. I smiled, took a drop of the emotional power I kept in reserve (stored somewhere off the Cayman Islands) and slowly pulled her off, easily overpowering her. When my cock head popped out of her mouth and smacked my chest she breathlessly whined, “Pleeeease, Master. I need you. I need your cock!” “Food now, play later,” I said as I rotated my shoulder and brought the 350 pound female bodybuilder, who could easily overpower a middle-weight state bodybuilding champion, to her back like she was a rag doll. While I still held her hair I propped myself up on an elbow and captured her jaw in my free hand. “Here’s a little taste for now,” I said. Then released her jaw, moved my hand slowly over her magnificent, firm breasts. I tweaked a thick nipple between my index and middle fingers, then stroked her brick wall abs and, finally, burried a finger in her sex. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned and gasped for air when I flicked her clit. She was writhing and on the edge of a powerful orgasm. Then I stopped. She hissed and punched my shoulder with enough power to blast a hole in a foot thick solid steel wall. My deltoid only dented a little bit. “Now get going and I might buy you a toy mouse later,” I teased and released her hair. She rolled off the bed and massaged the hand that punched me. With a look of lust, fury, resignation and pointing a finger at me she said, “That better be one hell of a mouse, buddy.” She turned and picked up the button down shirt I wore yesterday. As she shrugged the shirt on I noticed that her back almost filled up the garment that could barely contain me. She lifted the front of the shirt and took a deep breath as she turned back to me. Her breasts pushed the shirt open, revealing her large, firm breasts, deep cleavage and ruggedly segmented abs. Her nipples grew hard, denting the fabric, her lower abs started to powerfully flex, her expression like a predator ready to strike its prey. “Fuck,” she moaned. “I can still smell you on this.” I growled and jabbed a finger at the bedroom door. She scowled and cat-walked, her glutes flexing and rolling against each other, out of my bedroom as her face assumed a more human visage. I laid for a few seconds more, then rolled out of bed. I yawned, raised my arms above my head and stretched to work out all the kinks in my sleepy mountains of muscle. I heard my back crack (twice), my sternum pop and heard Art still brushing his teeth. The urge to urinate was strong, so I willed my raging cock to settle down. It deflated as I moved towards the bathroom and immediately stubbed my foot on the corner of the bed. Cursing and promising for the 1,001st time to rearrange the furniture, I limped to the bathroom. Art was getting ready to spit into the sink when I moved up behind him. I studied the contrast of body types I saw in the mirror. Art morphed from a human/corgi mix into a complete human with the appearance and physique of an average height twenty year old blond, blue-eyed, olympic swimmer. I could see the well toned muscles roll and flex as he bent over the sink to spit as he shifted his weight between his strong legs. When he stood up the top of his head reached the bottom of my chin. His adequately developed chest had wisps of blond hair above a decent six pack. I applied a little emotional power to pack on tens of pounds of muscle and increase my height until his head was below my chest. I proportionally grew the rest of my body, except for my cock. Then I lengthed and thickened it too until I had a baseball bat swinging between my knees. After that I took a half step forward, pinning his narrow pelvis between me and the vanity. I thrust my chest forward, brought my arms up into a double bi pose and flexed. The bathroom vanity lights glinted off my hairless scalp and chest. A weekend’s growth of thick whiskers gave my face a rugged appearance. My traps, delts and pecs grew to insane proportions. My biceps, already big, grew to dwarf Art’s head. I gritted my teeth, growled and squeezed harder. The already apparent striations deepened into crevasses as the superficial veins that criss-crossed my body like a road map tried to burst through my skin. The two heads of each bicep grew and separated, causing a vein filled valley to form from my deltoids to my pronator tres and brachioradialis. Art’s eyes grew wide, his mouth slack and he moaned as he leaned back into me. I think I even saw a little bit of saliva escape the corner of his mouth. He started leaking below too. Next to me, Schwarzenegger and Colman look like they don’t even lift. I AM the Greatest Of All Time. “Oh, fuuuuck, Daddy,” Art moaned as he flexed his ass against my cock. His strong glute muscles gave me more than enough friction stimulation to bring me to erection. “Do me right here. I don’t care if you rip me in half. Please, just fuck me.” I broke the pose and palmed Art’s head, my hand nearly encompassed his skull, and slammed the side of his head against the mirror. A network of spider web cracks appeared under him in the mirror. Even though he whimpered from the pain, I could feel the overwhelming lust and pleasure pulsing off him. I soaked up every drop of that, sending it to my reserves as I caused my cock, which was now the size of his calf, to become harder and cleave Art’s glutes, lifting him off his feet. I leaned in and gave him a predatory snarl, hot breath against his ear and I said, “If I did that, I’d have to blow an even bigger load than last time to bring you back. Then Bre would pound us both to pulp. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A weak, “uh-huh” escaped his lips as his hips started bucking against me and the vanity. He was about to cum from the mere suggestion of so much agony. I gave him a second or two of that mental image before I released his head, stood straight and stepped back. He barely caught himself before he fell to his knees. “Start my shower,” I ordered. Then I moved to stand over the toilet and relieved myself. It took a moment for Art to realize I issued an order. When he pulled his head away from the mirror I saw that he left a few drops of blood and a sweaty impression of an ear and cheek on the fractured mirror. He gazed upon my infinitely superior physique with a mixture of anger, lust and anticipation and whined, “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” and punched my back as he passed behind me and into the shower. “Owww! Fuck!” he said and turned the handle. I heard the water cascade out of the shower head and Art yelling, “GODS DAMN this water is COLD!” As I relieved myself I happened to glance at my toothbrush in its holder beside the sink. “Art, did you use my toothbrush?” “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind,” he said. He stuck his head out of the shower and continued, “Dog saliva is very hypoallergenic,” and licked the inside of one of his nostrils with a long dog tongue. I grumbled, flicked off the last drop of urine into the toilet and flushed. I leaned against the wall next to the shower and counted my fingers, waiting for the water to become scalding hot. As usual, right on the count of five Art screams, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” and bolted out of the shower. I grabbed his neck before he got too far and threw him back into the shower. The house shuddered as he was driven into the shower wall. I ducked my head under the bar that holds the shower doors as I stepped into the stall. Then I turned the shower handle a quarter turn towards cold and slid the door closed behind me. Arthur looked at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw as my bulk almost filled the stall. I could feel the lust, pain and want cascading off of him. The delicious treat made me involuntarily flex my pecs against him, pushing him further into the wall. As the tile, drywall and wall frame cracked under him he said in a gasp, “Could you please not take up the entire shower?” I was disappointed he phrased it that way. If he had said, “Make yourself smaller,” I would have given myself a hundred pounds of muscle, flexed everything and pushed him through the wall so hard he would have exploded into the next room. Instead, I compressed my height until the top of his head was just below my chin, just enough height that he'd have to crane his neck to look me in the eyes. I did that without losing any muscle; I looked even more fucking massive. Now that I could maneuver in the shower I grabbed Art by the neck, ripped him out of the wall and forcefully set his feet on the floor of the shower. “You will wash me. If you do a good enough job I might fuck you into next week,” I growled and shoved the bar of soap from the shower caddy that hung from the showerhead into his hands. I then bent my left arm and flexed the bicep. Razor cut striations jutted across the twin peaks of the muscle. I straightened my arm and flexed again, this time including the forearm in the flex. The already insanely huge muscles grew larger and harder as even the smallest superficial vein doubled in size and pulsed with unbridled power. Art, with eyes wide, started to soap my upper left arm. “NO!” I barked. He flinched as if I had flicked a finger against his abs, expelling all air from his lungs and launching him across the room. He looked up timidly into my eyes. “Worship my might, worship the physique you dream about, worship the only true Alpha. Lick the sweat off me. Clean me with your tiny tongue. Then use the soap.” He instantly dropped the soap and started tonguing, kissing and caressing my massive arm. I gulped down each delicious drop his submission and want. He emanated so much I started to get drunk on the power I was soaking up. When I sent most of it to my reserves my head cleared and I felt Art sucking on my anterior delt head. “Grrrrrr! That’s it, little man. Show me how inferior you are,” I said menacingly, then grabbed the back of his head with my right hand and dragged his mouth to the downward pointing left nipple. “You love how I can, how I HAVE, ripped you apart without even breaking a sweat, don’t you?” I didn’t need him to say anything; I already knew the answer. He fucking loved it. I brought my left arm down, put his head in the crook of the elbow and flexed the left side. His mouth yielded to my incredibly hard pec as my bicep and forearm’s titanic brachioradialis and pronator teres bore into his skull. I kept increasing the pressure until I heard cracks and Art whimpering in pain. Then I released him. He fell on his hands and knees to the floor. The shower head sprayed water against the back of my head. What water didn’t flow down my back was cascading off my pecs like Niagara Falls and pummeled his back and head. I clenched my hands into fists and slightly bent my arms while expanding my chest, flexing my arms, pecs and abs. I squeezed the muscles of my legs until they resembled the marble columns of a Greek temple. I looked down my nose at the pathetic excuse for a male at my feet. I am Colossus standing before a teenager. A teenager with an Olympic swimmer muscular body. When Art finally looked up his eyes became as big as saucers. The head of my semi-hard summer sausage sized cock was an inch from his face. When he reached up to my cock I grabbed his hands “Please,” he pleaded. “I want...NEED your cock in me!” I could see his six inch dicklet was as hard as it could get over his inadequate balls. I put his trembling hands on my cinder block abs. “I will NOT repeat myself,” I said in a low menacing voice. He almost cried in frustration as he slid his hands over my abs, down my adonis belt, over each bulging muscle group in my left quad’s rectus femoris, vastus lateralis and vastus medialis, then onto the gastrocnemius and peroneus longus, the two halves of my diamond shaped left calf. From there he licked two days worth of sweat and grime off every inch of me. I flexed and squeezed the muscle under Art’s mouth just to remind him how immensely powerful I am. After he tongue bathed both arms and armpits he placed his hands on my mountainous trapezius and stood on his toes to reach my neck. The sensation of his tiny body against my solid granite muscles started to arouse me. My rapidly hardening cock rising against his pintsized six pack made me groan. Thankfully Art finished his makeout session with my traps and neck quickly. I turned around, flared the muscles of my back; trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid major and teres, major and minor. Calmly as I could, commanded, “Now my back. Start at the bottom.” I heard him drop to his knees and felt his hands on my hips as he buried his nose and tongue between unbreakable globes of my gluteus maximus. New sensations shot up my spine, ricocheted around my brain, back down my spine, bounced off my testicles, went up my cock and exploded in the glans. I involuntarily threw back my head and grunted as a literal pint of pre splashed against the shower wall. I saw two of the tiles crack after being hit with such pressure. Art must have noticed because he was taking his own sweet fucking time licking off any piece of shit I missed. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I’m going to have to make sure he brushes his teeth again.’ ‘Can’t me think of any better puns than that?’ Ego snidely interjected. ‘Tell him to fucking hurry it up.’ “Boy, if you keep that up there won’t be any cum left for your ass. Move up.” “Yes, Daddy,” Art disappointedly replied. He licked, sucked and kissed up my wide, thick back until he swept the last speck of sweat off my trapezius at the back of my neck. When I felt his pathetic little wee-wee against me I spun around to face him, grabbed his neck and lifted him off his feet. He must have weighed 200 pounds, but it felt like I was lifting a paper marionette. “Are you ready to get FUCKED, boy?!” I growled from deep in my chest. He put his delicate hands on my pectoralis major, caressing them. “Yes, Daddy. Fuck your little boy.” His hands slid downward, over my ten pack abs. “Show me how an Alpha takes what He wants…” He started spreading the pre flowing from the meatus over the shaft, hand over hand, with another eight inches of cock exposed. His hands couldn't even encircle half my girth. “...whenever He wants.” He then slid his right hand up and thumbed the sensitive spot on the shaft. The sensation made my pelvic floor and prostate clench, forcing a heavy blast of pre to splash against his abs and chest. Arthur scooped the emissions off with his right hand while still stroking my rod from base to tip with his left. He brought his cupped hand, completely covered and overflowing with sticky precum, to his mouth and drank. As he drained his hand of the clear, thick liquid, I felt his throat contract four times as he swallowed the goo. “And now I know,” he said with a quiet voice filled with lust and licentious inference, “what the mightiest Alpha on the planet and the last descendant tastes like.” ‘The WHAT?!’ Ego said loudly. ‘SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.’ I internally growled as I flicked my wrist, tossing and twisting this average height, muscular boy in the air. I caught the back of his head when it was facing me and drove it into the tile on the shower wall. Blood, bone and broken tile were blasted out from the crater I created in the wall. Art’s legs were instantly swept aside as my fully engorged cock rammed up into my totally helpless prey. With my cock supporting all his weight I released his head and put him into a Full Nelson hold, both of my hands were thrust under his arms, then I pressed against the back of his neck. As I pulled him away from the wall I saw blood splashing the destroyed tile; I must have crushed his nose. When I thrust up his weak hole he hooked his ankles around my dorsal calves and started to caress the rock-solid muscle. Now that I had him completely under my control I teased the fuck out of him by slowly and repeatedly only penetrating him with the glans. Still, he grunted from each breach of his rectum. “Fuck me...come on!”, he pleaded. “Fuck...grunt..me..aieee!...HARD!” I drew a devilishly evil grin as I did exactly not that. For minutes I teased this boy cunt as he begged louder and louder until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. “FUUUCK MEE! HURT MEE! GODS DAMMIT PUNISH ME!!” Suddenly rage blasted off of him, he unhooked his feet from my legs and planted them on the shower wall. Huge claws exploded out of his toes and heals, fracturing the tile as they were buried deep in the wall. Each of his legs grew thicker than my waist with impossibly huge thighs. In an inhuman voice he bellowed, “I SAID HURT ME!” I could feel his rectum constrict around my cock tighter than any hole I’ve ever had, squeezing down and painfully compressing my shaft. “FUCK ME HARD!” Then he thrust back. I was slammed into the wall under the shower head. I felt the tile behind me fracture as his tight hole forced its way down my cock. I heard tearing sounds and saw his ass rupture. His copious blood provided a little bit of lubrication, but not enough; it felt like the skin on my shaft was being rubbed off. He kept screaming in a sound that shouldn’t come from any living thing, “PUNISH ME!”. When his ass finally impacted my root, faster than I could see, he pulled off and rammed back down. Between his battering assaults I saw my cock distend and almost rupture his abdomen several times. If he kept this up any longer he was going to fuck himself to death. When he was within reach I hooked my right elbow around his neck and clasped hands. “Arthur! You have to stop this!” I yelled. He bucked like a bronco, I almost lost my grip twice before I was able to squeeze and restrict the blood flow in his carotid artery. Just before he passed out he entire body tensed up, his rectum almost ripped my cock off. A blast of cum blew tile off the shower wall in front of us. Then he slowly went limp and I lowered him to the floor. When my cock popped out of him, blood geysered out of him and down the shower drain. I stood up and looked down at him. His face was a mass of shredded skin, broken bone and blood, yet I could see the devastation on his face already healing. My cock looked no better. It was red, swollen, covered with his blood and shit and hurt like hell. As I rinsed off I applied some power to heal myself. By the time I finished Arthur was whimpering in his sleep. ‘What the hell just happened?’ I asked Ego. ‘You have no idea. I better get him in bed. Let him sleep,’ he replied. I picked up Arthur off the shower floor and cradled him in my arms. As I took him to the bed he softly cried, “I’m sorry...I tried…not my fault...forgive...” He immediately went into a fetal position when I laid him down on the bed. He let out a sigh when I brought the comforter over him as, somehow, a large brown teddy bear appeared in his arms. I went back into the bathroom and found a fresh toothbrush under the sink. After unpacking the toothbrush I gazed at my stubble covered cheeks and jaw in the mirror. It had been three days since I last shaved. I rubbed a hand along my jawline; I kinda liked the way this protobeard made me look. I decided to keep it. As I brushed my teeth, Ego said, ‘I don’t like the way he seeks pain. There’s something terribly wrong with him. Why does he feel he needs to be punished?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I mentally replied. ‘Whatever it was, it couldn’t be healthy for him to feel that way.’ “Are you two almost done?” I heard Bre yell from the kitchen. “You had the hell better not let all this food go to waste or I’ll barf a hairball in your shoes!” And I know she would. I exited the bathroom, expanded myself to the height I was earlier, packed on twice the muscle and walked towards the bedroom door leading to the hallway, looking at Arthur calmly lying on the mattress as I passed the bed. The comforter roiled and bulged in ways a human could never cause. I looked up just in time to bash my forehead on the top of the doorframe. ‘Smooth move, dude,’ I heard mockingly in my head. “Will you FUCK OFF!” I yelled aloud. “You had the HELL better not be talking to me, buster!” I heard from the kitchen. I grumbled, ducked my head and started down the hallway to the sun drenched kitchen. Rubbing my forehead I said, “I’m not. I just bashed my forehead on the door frame.” When I entered the kitchen Brenna was right at my side, guiding me to a chair at the kitchen table. As I sat (and the chair creaked under my weight) my mouth started watering from sight and scent of the food overflowing the table; eight three-egg omelettes (four cheese, mushroom & bacon and four veggie), a stack of twenty pancakes smothered in real maple syrup topped with real butter, two pounds of bacon, three pounds of venison sausage (from my uncle), two loaves of whole grain and seed bread and, the pièce de résistance, a two full pound of cheese curds. I love those big chunks of cheese, especially how they squeak when you bite into them. Hey! I’m a Wisconsinite, don’t judge me! Yes, I even have a Cheesehead Cheese Hat. My hungry eyes were torn away from the feast before me by a pair of ultra strong female hands on my cheeks. “Let me see,” Bre said with concern and straddled my lap, the top of her head below my chin. The taste of that emotion was like taking a bite of an orange flavored strawberry. Interesting, but not as interesting as looking down her cleavage, deeply segmented abs and her little exposed clit. “Well, you’re a little red up there,” she motheringly said, “but I don’t see any permanent damage.“ She brushed my forehead with her hand and pieces of wood and gypsum board fell into my line of sight. “You probably hurt the wall more than it hurt you.” “Speaking of hurting, did you hear Arthur and me in the shower.” She tilted her head down and her sad eyes slowly moved from my forehead to my abs. She put her hands lightly on my trapezius, feelings of worry and doubt made bile rise in my throat. “Something long ago…” she snapped her eyes to mine without lifting her chin “...happened to him. He won’t talk about it, no matter how much I ask. I...I just try to emotionally support him...love him the best I can.” Tears started to fall from her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.” I wrapped my arms around and clutched her to my chest. She began to silently sob. ‘Well, shit. There goes the mood,’ Ego lamented. I silently agreed with him and slowly made myself decrease in size and mass. When Bre’s chin touches my collar bone, her puffy, tear streaked eyes meet mine and she sniffed. “Wha...what are you doing?” “I thought that you wouldn’t be in the mood since…” I said quietly, gently. “Oh, no you don’t you FUCKER!” she interrupted me, jabbed a hard finger into my sternum and exclaimed with all the ferocity of an IRS conducting a multi-year, twenty million dollar audit. “You fucking TEASED ME by making me suck you off ALL FUCKING NIGHT! I had to listen as you got tongue bathed and kissed all over your perfect body! Do you know how hard it was NOT to plunge my fingers up my cunt when I heard that?! Oh, you’re gonna fuck me, pal, and your gonna fuck me HARD! YOU WILL BE as big, as thick and as hard as you were when you walked in and YOU WILL pound me into submission! You’re gonna prove to me that you’re still my Master!” My cock rose against her ass in anticipation of feeling her hot, wet, tight hole and her admission of subservience. Her face then slowly went into the most evil grin I’ve ever seen and said, “But first you're eating all this food.” I groaned and complained, “And I’m called a tease.” “Yup!’ Bre laughed as she rose off my lap to stand beside me. She stood up on her toes, leaned forward, patted the top of my head and said, “I’m the queen Molly of teasing, baby. Now EAT!” My stomach loudly growled as I picked up a fork and spoon and dug into the mountain of protein, carbs and fiber. I kept glancing at Brenna between shoving huge chunks of food in my mouth. She was still in my unbuttoned dress shirt, leaning her perfect, hard gluteus maximus against the kitchen counter and holding one of my biggest ceramic coffee mugs. It’s the one that says, “Accountants take accounting of their accounts.” Before you say ANYTHING, it was a UW graduation gift from my aunt. Every once and a while she would take a sip from the steaming liquid in the mug. A few seconds later she would sigh, tilt her head to the side and her eyelids would almost close. The liquid’s scent wafting in my direction smelled like mint and chamomile. I fucking HATE herbal teas. When I was a teenager I had to help my uncle with bailing hay at the farm. After a whole day of breathing in dust and alfalfa flowers the crap running down my throat tastes exactly like herbal tea. Anyway, I finally shoveled in the last forkful of breakfast, leaned back in the chair and gave a hearty belch. “Now you have a choice, big boy.” Bre was still leaning back against the kitchen counter only now she had a huge stainless steel travel mug in one hand and her tea in the other. “Coffee…” she raised the travel mug “…tea…” she raised the ceramic mug “…or me?” She shrugged her shoulders, the button down shirt fell down to her elbows and waistline revealing a body that a heavy weight bodybuilder dreams of; tight waist, tendinous inscriptions that were three inches thick, shredded serratus anterior, latissimus dorsi that imitated a cobra’s hood, at least twenty-five inch upper arms, deltoids the size and hardness of bowling balls, trapezius that rose two-thirds of the way to her ears and pectorals that were hard and firm. If just those muscles were on a woman her size that woman would be considered pretty stacked. Brenna had those muscles AND incredible breasts with small brown areola and thick, inch long, nipples. Her torso supported by legs thick enough to squat a ton, yet shapely enough to give a guy whiplash as he turned his head for a second or fourth look. All this sculpted marble muscle on a five foot three inch frame made her look freaky...freaky sexy! I locked eyes with her and, deliberately, slowly stood up. As I rose from the chair I made myself grow in height until Bre’s eyes were level with my navel. I flexed first my left bicep, then my right, then my cock, as I walked towards her. I made sure that each footstep made the house rattle. When my glans pressed into her impenetrable abs I raised my hand as if I was to stroke her cheek. She tilted her head in that direction expecting my touch. In the last instant, I grabbed the travel mug, downed the entire contents in two gulps, crushed the container and tossed the now useless scrap metal over my shoulder. If you remember from our first (one-sided) conversation, you know that I can’t function in the mornings without a couple of cups of coffee in me. While the caffeine worked its magic on the A1 and A2A receptors I advanced on my prey. Bre held up a finger and said, “Waitaminute,” and took a deep drink from her tea. Almost instantly her pupils dilated. She set the mug on the countertop behind her and reached up to put both of her muscled, veined, tiny hands on my pecs. Then she extended and dragged feline-like claws from the ends of her fingers across my taut skin. She took a step or two towards me, making my painfully hard cock rise up until it was nestled in her cleavage. “So, are you going to use this big thing to fuck me?” she seductively said. “Plunge it deep into my hot, wet cunt?” She started to slowly bounce her pectorals, making her breasts stroke my leaking cock. “I think you're just going to peter out, “she brought her elbows inward, using her upper arms to squeeze her breasts tighter, “just like the little boy you are.” That did it. Now I was not just sexually aroused, but my dominance was thrown into question. Yes, I know she did that on purpose just to get me to fuck her hard. Well...it worked. I growled as I grabbed her gluteus maximus and lifted her 350 pound weight above my head like she was a feather. I easily squeezed and spread those unbreakable muscles in my hands to expose her ass and pussy. It took me a second or two to properly line up my cock with her leaking hole, then I explosively brought her down. As soon as I felt her hot, wet lips against my glans I flexed my rectus abdominis and thrust up into her. Whether by design or not, she was so virgin tight that I was only able to get the glans and an inch of shaft into her. She threw back her head and screamed so loud I’m sure the neighbors would call the cops. Her hands clenched my trapezius hard. Her claws pierced my skin, but couldn’t penetrate the steel-hard muscle. I repeatedly pulled my cock out to the glans using my core muscles, then forced her to take another inch while I roared and she screamed at every fuck, “YOU THINK...” two inches in, pull out “...THAT THIS COCK...three inches in, pull out “...is a BOY’S DICK…” four inches in, pull out “THIS!” five in “IS” six in “A” seven in “MAN’S” eight in “COCK!” I rammed the remainder of my shaft into her as she started to scratch my back with those sharp claws. I still hadn’t touched her cervix, she must have deepened her vagina just to tease me. I wasn’t in the mood for any of that. In the next thrust I lengthen my cock until I felt the entrance to her inner core. The next time I withdrew I packed on five more inches, two more inches in girth and hardened the organ until I could punch a hole through a three inch steel plate. Then I shattered her core with a single devastating ram. She threw back her head, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she used every last molecule of air in her lungs to scream again. At the same time I roared into her face with victory and dominance. I looked down and saw two or three inches of shaft were not buried in her. That would not do. I forced in the final inches until I’m balls deep in the most exquisite pussy on Earth. I removed my left hand from her ass, brought my arm up, bent the elbow and flexed my bicep so big it made Colman’s arms look insignificant. I continued my devastation of her vigina and womb. I dropped my voice three octaves and, with each skewering thrust punctuating each word, said, “I...am...your...ALPHA...your...MASTER!” She grunted and cried out with every word. “Every...other...male...is...insignificant...next...to...ME!” She grabbed my incredibly hard, vein covered arm and threw her mouth onto my shoulder. She bit down as I felt her legs begin to spasm. “I...AM...A...YOUR…GOD!” With the last word I drop my voice into the infrasound level. That word couldn’t be heard, yet windows and plates rattled, the house creaked. Brenna screamed around the muscle in her mouth and explosively squirted a gallon of girl cum on my abs and legs. Now that the natural order of things had been reestablished I lifted her off me and threw her against the kitchen counter in front of the sink and the window to the backyard. Her rectus abdominis shattered the marble countertop and bent the stainless steel sink. I waste no time in pinning her hands to the countertop at her side and ramming myself up her still quivering cunt. I took my time now, relishing each inch of her. While I slowly saw in and out of her I admired her shoulders and back. I ran a hand over her back. Her teres, major and minor, rhomboid major and infraspinatus almost rose above the larger trapezius and latissimus dorsi. Each muscle group was incredibly defined, stirated, thick and hard. She was the apex of muscular beauty. And my blood boiled with testosterone as I broke her. I cupped her chin and slowly pulled her head back. She resisted with all her considerable might, muscles flexed and pumped up with blood and superficial veins popped up under reddening skin. I could see her breasts swinging on her chest when her head met my upper abs. Her nipples were long, thick and diamond hard. I moved my hand down to her neck, slammed into her and demanded, “Who am I?” “AHHHHH!! You’re Bruce Banderole!” She squeezed her eyes shut. I viciously ram up. “Wrong answer. LOOK AT ME!!” Brenna eyes fly open as she grunts from the impact, “You...you’re my MMMaaasterrr!” Again, I smash through her cervix and punch the far wall of her uterus. “Try AGAIN!” “You’re the...the LAST ONE!!” she screamed as another orgasm racked her body and she crushed the marble countertop under her hands. Not exactly what I was working towards. ‘What the FUCK?!’ Ego interjected. I ignored him and released Brenna’s neck. She fell forward into the sink. Her back was covered with sweat and she was breathing like she just finished a marathon. I, however, was breathing like I was sitting in a chair and no moisture appeared on my brow. I looked out the window and saw Fred Metzer holding a hose in his hand in his backyard. His hand was at his side as he was totally engrossed with the carnal spectacle I was giving him. The hose looked like his limp two inch dick. His mischievous son had crimped the hose causing the water pressure to fall. I seized Bre’s hair and lifted her head up so she could see Fred. “See that beta boy? See how limp his dick is?” She started breathing hard again. I released her hair and gave Fred the biggest fucking monster sized double bi flex he would ever see. His life changed forever; his eyes bugged out, he slouched and became the lesser male I always knew he was. Yeah, that’s right, boy. You’re a one, maybe two, on the male scale. I’m a one fucking hundred. “That’s what every other male is next to me.” I drank in the firehose of emotions Fred was directing at me; envy, submission and, wait a minute, need? That little fucker actually thinks I’d let him touch me. I gave him a little taste of what he would never have, never achieve; I bent my head down and licked a throbbing vein on a football-sized bicep. Brenna jerked and cried out when I took that power to thicken my already titanic cock, harden it until I could pulverize diamonds. Fred finally noticed that the water wasn’t coming out of the hose and lifted it up to peer inside. His son chose that exact moment to release the pressure. The poor beta got a face full of water that blasted out of the hose. “And that happens every time those weakling BOYS see me fuck their women, claim their women, TAKE their women!” Her third orgasm hit her like a 10.0 Richter Scale earthquake. She pushed her hands forward, plowing through the two inch thick stone countertop as easily as you would push your hand through clay. When she comes down from the euphoria she’s so out of it that her trembling legs aren’t supporting her weight. The only thing keeping her upright is my cock. I take a step backwards, pulling her away from the countertop. I let her leg dangle in midair for a few seconds, then I lowered my still mind blowingly hard cock. She slid down my cock to lay like a puddle of muscle on the kitchen linoleum. I reached down, grabbed her hair, yanked her to her knees, bellowed, “I’m not done with you yet!” and rammed my cock down her throat. It took a few seconds to come to and realize I was fucking her throat, but when she does, oooh man, she took over. Her tongue lashed and whipped every inch of cock that wasn’t in her throat, bobbed her head up and down my shaft so fast she became a blur. Under that assault it wasn’t long before I reached and shattered my own orgasmic threshold. I arched my back, threw back my head, shoulders and arms and flexed every single muscle cell in my entire body in an effort to blast my very essence through the little slit at the tip of my cock and roared. Brenna grabbed my hips and hung on for dear life as I erupted for five minutes down her throat. She clawed at my legs as she slid down my satisfied cock. She purred when I looked down over my pecs at her. She eventually shifted herself to sit against the cabinet. She reached up and stroked my softening, yet still massive cock. “Feeling better now?” I said. Brenna, my cat, said, “Hmmmm, maybe a little,” and smiled up at me. Bre then reached up and took the mug from the countertop. Somehow it had survived the destruction we wrought against the granite stone and sink. She took a sip and said, “Oooo yeah...that’s better.” She complained as I took the mug out of her hand, held it to my nose and sniffed. Yeah, it definitely smelled like a thirteen hour day of bailing hay, yet there was something else in it...something familiar. “What the hell is this?” I asked Bre. “It’s catnip tea,” Arthur said from the kitchen doorway looking only at his sister. Bre snatched the mug out of my hand and drained the remaining tea in one gulp. Art stood at five feet four inches tall and looked like a pale university freshman. His long brown hair hung over his hazel eyes and he was rail thin. The skinny jeans he wore were baggy, his dirty white shoes untied and his maroon wife beater shirt was three sizes too big. The shirt had a cartoon of Goldy Gopher, the University of Minnesota mascot, coming out of a hole in the ground giving a thumbs up. The caption, in a semicircle above the illustration, said, “GO MIGHTY GOPHERS!” “She’s like you with coffee; needs it to start the day.” Bre looked up at me, nodded her head and giggled. “We sometimes like to keep part of the animal when we are human. I, for instance, just like every dog, likes…” Bre perked up, raised herself on one arm while she pointed the mug at her brother. “Oh, no. DON’T YOU DARE say what I think you’re going to say!” Undeterred Art continues “...to suck on a bone and lick some balls every once and awhile.” I chuckled while Bre, who’s probably heard every pun Art has uttered, put her head in her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Oh, gods dammit. I was just about to have a good day.” “Anyway, remember that thing that happened four days ago?” Bre immediately sobered up, turned serious, looked up to Art and put a trembling hand on my thigh. “Yeah,” she said, trying to hide the concern in her voice. “I got a text. I have to do the thing. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be gone for several days.” I didn’t like the sound of this. I turned to face him and returned myself to my default setting, six foot six inches tall, on-season championship bodybuilder with a thick, uncut seven inch flaccid penis and testicles to match. “Arthur, about what happened in the shower,” I started to say. “I won’t be able to contact you Bre...” he ignored and interrupted me. “...so don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he said, then turned towards the front door and walked away. “Whatever is troubling you...” Art stopped halfway to the door and stood still; his back tensed up. “...I know we can work it out together.” Without acknowledging my offer he continued to the front door. He turned the doorknob and threw the door open. Even before the door slammed into the adjoining wall, he was gone. The door bounced off the wall, only closing half way. From the time Authur entered the kitchen to when he left, I only felt darkness from him. Bre walked up to my side. She slipped under my arm and wrapped her arm around my waist. Her free hand rested on my chest. Staring at the door I quietly said, “I’m worried about him.” “I know.” “He’ll be beaten to a pulp if the football team sees him in that shirt.” “I’m more worried about what he’d do to them.” Bre then looked up, patted my chest and said, “Come on. You’ve got that human physical thing to do and it’s getting late.” She grabbed my hand, went up to the front door to close it then led me back to my bedroom where she proceeded to open my closet and rifled through my clothes. Three wardrobe changes later I’m wearing a tight red polo shirt, blue jeans and a pair of running shoes. Brenna had fastened all the buttons on the shirt. I immediately flexed my pectorals and trapezius, making the buttons burst off of me and ricochet off the walls. I looked down to see the canyon of my chest cleavage. She rolled her eyes and shoved me out the door. “Have fun, and don’t worry about the cum stains everywhere. I’ll lick them up!” she yelled after me and slammed the door. I turned around to get in the Lycan and saw old Ms. Chakancy, with her little white miniature poodle Killer on a leash, giving me an incredulous look. I just looked at her as I walked to the car and opened the door, gave her an award-winning smile and said, “Don’t ya just love weekend long orgies?” and entered the car. “Well, I never!” she exclaimed. Ego snorted and said, ‘No shit lady. You probably couldn’t get laid giving blow jobs at a horny blind man's convention.’ ‘Now, now, let’s be nice to the old bat,’ I internally replied, started the car and burnt rubber rocketing out of the driveway and onto the street. ‘Be nice! She calls the cops every time Debbie drives up with her stereo on!’ Ahh, yes. Deb does love her Norwegian Death Metal music at maximum volume. I get the mental impression of Ego taking a deep breath and calming himself down. ‘Alright. The doctor’s office in Verona. Due to my morning extracurricular activities...” he emphasized the word ‘activities’ ‘…the morning rush is over so it should only take I seventeen minutes to get there. The appointment is forty-five minutes from now so me have plenty of time. And what the fuck is this ‘You’re the last descendent’ and ‘You’re the one’ bullshit?’ I rolled my eyes and said aloud, “How the hell should I know and thanks, Siri.” ‘Oh, so I’m my digital assistant now, eh? In that case…’ and I’m forced to listen to knock knock jokes until, three miles later, in the middle of South Midvale Boulevard, the car backfired and rapidly lost power.
  2. Black Cat Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 WARNING! Contains snuff. Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 Epilogue Sequel: Black Cats Chapter 1 The wife lays on the bed on her side, passed out. Her long auburn hair covers her sweaty, cummy face, neck and tits. Cum leaks out of her pussy and ass onto the soaked hotel sheets. Sunlight from the window lands on her 36C breasts, her nipples still hard and extended from my manipulations. Those beautiful breasts jiggle, the bed creeks and the headboard hits the wall with each of my thrusts. "Oh, God! Fuuuuck!" the husband moans under me. I pin his head to the bed with my left hand. My right hand grips and lifts his pelvis keeping his ass inline with my cock. For the last twenty minutes I've been pulling all the way out, waiting for his sphincter to close, then, with a low-pitch growl, ramming in deep. "You like that, boy? hmmmggggggrrrrrr. Like getting fucked slow and hard?" The husband moans something that sounds like, "yes, Daddy", as his fists tightly clutch the sheets. I roll my head back and inhale deeply, relishing the musky scent of sex. I spike his ass with a quarter of my rod. "AAAAHHHHHHGGOOOOOODD!" the pitiful excuse for a male wails. "GRRRR! I don't give a FUCK what you like, cunt," I growl. Enough of treading lightly with this virgin ass. I grab his shoulders with both hands and use my abs for countless short hard strokes, smashing into his prostate with every fuck. The bed frame crashes against that wall with a loud BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM as I bore into him. I keep up the rapid-fire assault, grunting with each fuck, until he yells, "I'm cumming!" I wrap my left hand around his throat and lift him off the bed. I stand tall and press the back of his head into my chest. He utters a satisfying scream as he slides father down. A minuscule amount of cum bubbles through the tiny cock cage his little penis is trapped in. His legs swing and bump my shins as I walk to the floor-to-ceiling mirror. By the time I reach the mirror he's panting like a bitch in heat. I turn to face the mirror and look over the "man" impaled on my cock. Mid-twenties, crew-cut blond hair, handsome features. I guess you could say that he's got a middleweight bodybuilder physique. A decent chest above his six pack. An above average limp dick swings off of him. He could probably place in a regional bodybuilding competition if he didn't skip leg days. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut. "Open your eyes. Come on boy," I thump his head with my free hand, "open." When he doesn't obey I forcefully flex my abs, driving my ramrod deeper into his gut. "Aaaarrrg!" his eyes snap open and looks at me in the mirror with fear, lust and fear. He begins to hyperventilate. "Hey, calm down, little man." I slide my hand off of his throat putting him in a choke hold. I lightly squeeze his windpipe between my forearm and bicep. His hands immediately grab my arm and vainly tries to move it. I whisper into his ear, "Take slow deep breaths. That's it. Good boy." With his breathing slowing I find myself involuntarily slow fucking his tight ass and watching my hulking figure in the mirror. The husband's head, his mouth gaping open, is held between a forearm thicker than his upper arm and a bicep bigger than his head. Thick veins under my paper-thin skin look like a metropolitan subway map. Above my bowling ball delts thick traps rise like mountains to meet my corded neck. The husband whimpers when I flex my free arm into a Herculean ball of power. "You like that, puny boy? Grrrr, yeah, I think we both know who's superior." I feel a pair of tits against my wide lats and a sopping wet pussy grinding on my massive rippling leg. "Fuck him, baby." The wife wraps her tiny hands around my torso. One hand slowly strokes my ten-pack, fingers following the perimeter of each thick cobblestone segment. Her other hand travels up to my shelf-like pecs to try to squeeze the rock-hard muscle. Giving that up, she begins to pinch and tweak a downward pointing nipple. "Show him how to use that thing between his legs." She's kissing and licking my back. "He's never satisfied me. You…oh god…you made me cum more than I've ever had. Show him how a real man fucks." Never wanting to disappoint the ladies I break the bi pose and slap the husband's glute. He yelps and calls out for mercy to whatever deity he thinks is listening. I seize a leg and bring it to his chest as I start to pound his ass balls deep. I roar. The husband screams in terror and submission. The wife moans, "Make him your bitch like you made me your whore…Master" *** Good. Now I have your attention. With all the instant gratification, short news cycles and screaming 140 to 280 character dispatches from who-the fuck-cares you have to grab attention by the balls, squeeze and not let go. Even if the owner of said balls slaps you with an injunction. Which never happens to me…usually. Hi, I'm Bruce. Bruce Banderole. Ripped let me hijack his account to tell my story. I didn't used to be this way. The domineering alpha male, not the ball grabber. Well, maybe not that either. Anyway, I was just your typical, average office worker schmuck sitting in a nondescript cube surrounded by sappy inspirational posters from HR in the boring corporate world. To say I was the pinnacle of physical health would be laughable. Twenty-six years old at this time. Under the average height for a male, just under the definition of obese, nearsighted and balding. My idea of exercise was carrying a box of a dozen doughnuts to the office every Friday. The only thing in my life that brought a ray of sunshine into my gloom was my girlfriend, Val. Six weeks ago that would all start to change. On that Monday nothing could brighten my mood. I grabbed two different socks out of the sock drawer, my sandwich was moldy, the printer repeatedly jammed on duplication of a fifty page report and I had my review. See, there's me after work in line at the bus stop waiting for the 5:10 to my house. Hunched shoulders, thinking about the day and mumbling, "How the fuck did I get a 'adequate' on the Reynolds account? I busted my ass for that fucker!" I look up to the guy behind me, "Tell me why a guy that looks like an avocado had sex with an older more disgusting avocado complained?" The old lady behind him stepped back aghast. The guy looked at me and said, "Maybe it's your use of harsh language." When I realized I left my umbrella at home, it started to rain. I sighed defeat to the universe as the bus rolled to a stop. The doors opened and I heard something in the alley. I ignored it and shuffled forward. After a few steps I heard it again. This time I think I heard a cat. I had a cat once. My sister wanted to name it Dog. A few more shuffling steps and I definitely heard a cat. I reached the bus door, looked up at the driver and said "Wait for me, I'll be right back." I think I heard the driver mumble, "Yeah right buddy" as I turned into the ally. "Here, kitty kitty kitty." I heard a reply from the left ten feet down the alley. I called out again, followed the reply and found an average sized undernourished young adult black cat under a piece of cardboard. It looked up at me with pleading electric blue eyes. I knelt down to the cat, and slowly blinked, "Hey, there." I extended a finger in front of its nose. "You don't look too well." The cat sniffed my finger, blinked and replied with a meow that almost sounded like, "Help?" I extended the finger to scratch the cat's chin. I didn't see a collar when the cat lifted its head for more scratches. "Oh, so you're a stray huh? Well we can't have you walking the streets can we?" As I gently lifted the cat it began to purr. I turned around with the cat cradled in my arms just in time to see the back of the bus disappear down the street. I sigh and mutter, "Fuck." "Mew?" "It's just been one of those days, cat. There's a vet school a few blocks from here. How about we get you checked out and get something to eat?" "Purrrrmoowprrrr" "I'll take that as a 'yes'." Two hours later I ordered an Uber and headed for home with a $200 vet bill, a box of stuff and a very groggy cat. When the Uber pulled up I saw my favorite driver, Debbie, in her beat up Hyundai Accent. "What the fuck ya got there, Bruce?" she yelled at me over the blaring death metal as I put the cat carrier and box in the back seat. I closed the squeaky back door and yanked on the front passenger door until it opened. Most people don't like Debbie. It might be that she curses like a sailor or that she'd rather insult you than get a tip. I kinda liked her; the petite figure, the girl-next-door face, the long blond hair in pigtails just went so well with the spiked leather collar, ripped band t-shirt, short shorts and bowie knife strapped to her thigh. Think Harley Quinn without a psychopathic homicidal boyfriend with a pasty complexion. At least I hoped so. "I found a stray cat and decided to adopt her," I replied once I sat down in the seat and turned down the screaming Norwegians. "The vet named her Brenna. Apparently that's Gaelic for 'black hair'." Debbie lifted a single eyebrow when she glanced from the back seat to me, "You, a cat? What's that fucking bitch Val gonna say?" I buckled up and replied, "Yeah, a cat. I'm secure enough in my manhood that I don't need a hundred fifty pound slobbering dog that you have to get up at five o'clock in the morning to walk. Besides, everyone should have a little pussy." She blushed as she pulled the car out into that traffic and replied, "Uh-huh. You got food and a goddamn cat box yet?" I pointed my thumb at the box in the back, "Yeah. The vet gave me a box of stuff. Said it was a CCL Starter Kit." We almost get into an accident when Debbie snorted and started laughing. "You mind not killing us and tell me what's so funny?" She composed herself just enough to reply, "Shit! CCL stands for Crazy Cat Lady." My eyes involuntary rolled heavenwards, "Laugh it up, Deb. One cat doth not a crazy make." "Mrr, aarrr?" came from the back seat. "I didn't ask you." With a snicker she stated, "They say the fucking first step is talking to the them." "And yet you talk to your crappy car." "Hey, don't insult Reggy! He's very sensitive!" The car backfired in agreement. She started stroking the dashboard, winked at me and said, "There, there, Reg. Don't listen to that mean asshole. You still haven't said how your cocksucking bitch-friend's going to react." "A FUCKING CAT!" was the reply I got from Val to a text with a pic of Brenna on my lap. When we got home I set everything up for Brenna. She had some water and cat food from her bowls in the kitchen and used her box in the bathroom. With her belly full she constantly purred while I scratched and rubbed her chin, throat and belly. She held my arm with her paws to make sure I didn't stop. She especially wanted me to scratch under her new orange-red nylon collar. I tried to think why the love of my life would say that as I scrolled up the app and saw all the pics she sent of her Pekingese, Alcaeus. The many, many pictures of Alcaeus dressed in a toga, birthday hat, sunglasses. In a sombrero for Cinco de Mayo. In a Santa beard and stocking cap for Christmas. The pics of Alcaeus with a hair bow on its head, in a Che Guevara t-shirt and beret, dressed as a Minion, lapping up a strawberry smoothie (from MY glass, mind you), wearing a Mario cap and, the worst, with cat ears. I typed out my reply with the thumb the little spoiled shit bit last week when I tried to get him away from my smoothie, "I found her in an alley downtown. I'm not going to walk away from that. Come on over and meet her, babe." A minute later the reply chat bubble started bubbling. Two minutes later I see, "Ugh fine cu soon." "We're going to have company, Brenna," I told the purring ball of fur on my lap as I rubbed behind her ears. Then I noticed the pizza boxes on the coffee table and dirty socks on the sofa. I sighed and said, "Looks like I've got to clean this place up a bit…" "Myeah." "…so you're gonna have to…Wait a minute, did you just say 'yeah'?" She just blinked those beautiful electric blue eyes and purred. "Ooookay then. Let me just set," I lifted her up and settled her on the sofa, "you here while I straighten up the place." The garbage was tossed and a load of laundry started when I heard the familiar sounds of Cadaver's "Cannibalistic Dissection" outside, Val screaming, "You expect a TIP after THAT?!" and a creaky car door slam. I open my front door to Val in a tight blue mid-thigh dress, her auburn hair in a bun, oversized sunglasses and a floppy wide brimmed hat. Behind her I saw a Hyundai peeling rubber and the driver's arm sticking out the window with a middle finger extended. "Ugh! That cabbie is the WORST! I don't know why they don't just fire her ass!" "She's not a cabbie and they can't." I gave Val a kiss on the cheek as she blew past me. "You know she's an independent contractor and the best driver in the city." "WHATEVER. So," she scanned the room, "where's this cat?" When Val set her oversized purse down her "dog" squeaked and poked his head out. "She's on the sofa. Be gentle, she's not used to…" When Val saw Brenna she charged towards her. Loudly, she said, "Oh, aren't you just the cutest thing!" Brenna jumped to the back of the couch, yelled, "Moor? REEEOW!" and hissed. When Val started to reach for her she jumped down and hid under the couch. "Hey! That's not how you act around a new pet, Valerie!" Alcaeus jumped out of the purse and started yapping at the couch. "Pfft, what do you know. It's just a cat." Brenna came out and sat in front of Alcaeus. Alcaeus continued to yap away as if he was a fearsome beast. Brenna, just yawned and cleaned her paw. "Yeah, well, she MY cat and I won't have her becoming neurotic due to…" We both heard a cut off yip and looked down to see Brenna's paw pinning Alcaeus's head to the floor. Her tail swished and she gave a "humph" sound. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY DOG!" Val exclaimed. I suppressed a snicker and said pridefully, "I see there's no chance of that." Val reached down to pick up the dog Brenna sniffed her hand. "Get away!" She clutched the shivering dog to her breasts, "That cat is EVIL!" "No she's not. This is all new to her. It'll take time for her to adjust." "Yeah, well…" Val's phone sounded out a notification I haven't heard before. Her face went flush and her eyes widened when she looked at her phone. "Sorry, babe. Gotta go." "You just got here?" I said, my hands outspread. "I know, but somethings come up…at work," Val collected her purse, shoved the shivering mutt in it and headed toward the door. "Can I call you an Uber?" "With HER again. I don't think so. Besides, my ride is already outside. Bye!" And with that Val slammed the front door on her way out. I stood in the middle of the living room wondering what just happened when I felt Brenna winding herself around my legs. "Well, that could have gone better." I said looking down at her. She blinked twice. "She's really very nice, ya know." "Mnoow," was the only reply in the room. Did my cat just say, "No"?
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