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The Anniversary

Carol worked as a secretary at a small startup tech company. Though she was skilled in dealing with and helping people, she was hired primarily for her assets, being an extremely attractive white shorthair housecat. As a bonus, she had an interesting quirk, which nearly everyone loved about her. Carol, you see, was a staunch nudist. Even at work, the feline flat-out refused to wear a scrap of actual clothing. On most days, she could be seen wearing a watch and her badge, and nothing else.

Her attractive body, combined with her soft fur, lovable personality, and lack of concept of personal space made her an ideal candidate for public relations, which helped her work her way up beneath one of the higher ups in the company, which came with a very nice benefit, aside from the obvious one of being used by nearly everyone who showed up early to an appointment with her boss. Every year during the holidays, when no outside people were expected or scheduled, she got three weeks paid vacation.

Carol hummed along with the radio as she drove herself home for the holidays, at the start of one of those paid vacations. She'd stripped her badge and watch off as she left the building, and now wore nothing but her seatbelt. The day was sunny, but cool, and the warm afternoon sun contrasted the chill wind blowing over the fur on her naked body. She drove a convertible, and on a day like this, there was no reason not to have the top and windows down.

The nude feline checked herself briefly in the mirror as she came to a full stop at an intersection. She was young, twenty-four years old. Most of her body was white as pure snow, except above her cheeks, down her back, and along her tail, where symmetrical horizontal stripes of gray ran through her fur, all of which was immaculately clean. The fur beneath her cheeks, down her small breasts, and over her arms and legs was soft and white, and she brushed it twice daily to keep it sleek and healthy. She glanced at the clock above the radio. Two thirty-five, she thought to herself, Erik should be getting home soon, and Richard in another few hours. Plenty of time.

Plenty of time to get home and fuck her twelve-year-old son, that is. She'd been planning this afternoon almost since the day she received news of her promotion. Her son, Erik, was a almost completely gray, being that his father was a coal-black shorthair. He'd grown up more quickly than she had realized, and she'd been surprised to discover that she'd started having thoughts of mating with him.

It started one morning when she was in the shower one morning. While she leaned against the wall and fingered herself. Her thoughts, usually centered around her husband, had slowly turned themselves toward her nubile son. During the first few days, she'd tried, and failed, to resist the fantasies dancing through her mind, but she started to give into them before long. Recently, she'd been thinking about him upon waking up in the morning as well as in the shower, during breakfast, at her job, in the car, at the dinner table... She thought she noticed him staring at her body recently, too.

The light turned green and she accelerated, feeling flush in her cheeks at the thought of seducing her boy on the anniversary of her marriage. Alright, she thought to herself, I've been planning this day for a while, now. I'll get home at two-forty-five, Erik gets home at four, and Richard at eight at night. I'll have four hours to convince my son to get into bed with me. Plenty of time.

She pulled into her garage a couple minutes early and darted inside, dropping her keys into a basket near the garage door. The feline briskly made her way to the bathroom, where she touched up her fur, brushed her teeth, and inspected her whiskers. She hopped into the shower and turned on the water, letting the cold spray hit her. She took her time shampooing her entire body, inside and out, douching the leftovers of the day's users out of her cunt and ass. A thorough rinse, shower off, and then a nice hot air dry. She squeezed water out of her fur as the hot air jets blew downward over her body, drying her in about ten minutes. It was just as she was stepping out of the shower that she heard the telltale squealing sound of a school bus braking in front of her house. Oh crap, he's early.

She dashed back into the living room, and dropped into a chair with her legs spread wide, thighs hooked over the armrests just as her son's key began to turn in the lock, hoping he didn't notice her through the wide open windows in the front room.

"I know, I'm just getting home now." Erik was talking to one of his friends on his phone. Carol waited patiently for him to notice her. "Listen, I'll bring my notes over tomorrow. No, tomorrow. You can trust me, I won't forget. Alright, bye." Erik took the phone from his face and pressed down on the screen with his thumb, then slid his backpack off and dropped it on the ground by the front door before closing it.

"Hey, sweetie." Carol spoke as softly and smoothly as she could.

"Mom?" Erik looked up quickly. "You're home early today." Carol could tell that he was trying not to look flustered by her nudity and posture.

"I came home early today, Erik. Vacation starts tomorrow." She held out her arms. "Now, come here and give your mom a hug." Her son stammered soundlessly for a moment, gazing over her body, before walking over to the chair where she sat. He climbed on top of her, burying his nose against her neck, and she could smell his arousal, just as she was certain he could smell hers. Slowly, gently, their lips began to meet, and both moaned against the other.

"Mom..." Erik whispered under his breath.

"Erik," Carol replied in the middle of a soft purr. She cupped his butt and squeezed, and his entire body tensed in response. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought.

And it was. Not even minutes had passed before she had managed to work off every scrap of clothing her son had on, and coaxed out his first load using her lips and fingertips. The familial pair of lovers hadn't even made it to the master bedroom by then, rather, they'd slid to the floor and slipped across the carpet about five feet before they started making their mess, though neither seemed to care about their location. Across the carpet and against the walls they played, with Carol coaxing her son's prick with her fingers and him kissing her cunt with his mouth all the way to the bedroom. and neither seemed to run out of stamina. Each had cum thrice by the time they climbed atop the king size bed, and Carol spread her legs to permit Erik to enter her most guarded place, and her son obliged without any hesitation, pushing his throbbing, cum-covered length inside his mother's canal.

The two locked eyes and clung to each other, yowling and bucking wildly together as Carol felt her child's barbs scraping inside her with each stroke, each movement of his hips, until she felt the now-familiar sensation of the boy's muscles tensing in response to his orgasm. She released him and allowed him to hold her unaided, occupying her paws by gripping two handcuffs tied to vertical iron bars on the headboard. His seed flooded her womb. It felt simultaneously like a moment and an eternity, one she wanted never to end.

A different voice pierced the moment as the mother and son lovers were coming down from their climax. "So this is how you want to do it, Carol?"

Both cats on the bed snapped back to sobriety and turned to look at the entrance to the room. A black cat stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light, and holding a revolver in his right paw.

"Oh, Richard!" gasped Carol, staring at the gun and grasping tightly to Erik for just a moment before her husband darted towards the two.

"Dad, I-" Erik started to say before his father brought a pistol's grip down on his head hard enough that a loud crack echoed throughout the room, and the boy fell limp atop his mother, knocked out cold by the blow.

"Richard, no!" Carol cried. "He's your son!"

Richard was screaming furiously and wasn't listening. "This is MY house! You are MY wife! This is supposed to be our anniversary, and this is what I see when I come home early to surprise you!?"

In tears, and in shock, Carol opened her mouth to respond, but could only croak out a quiet apology and an excuse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out." She knew immediately how this sounded and bit her lip.

"Well, you fucking WHORE," her husband growled quietly, drawing out the last word with such quiet ferocity that it caught in his throat, holding the gun to her forehead. "This certainly was a surprise. If you don't want me to blow your brains out right here, and RIGHT now, you fucking bitch, you cuff yourself this instant."

"Richard," Carol choked, "listen to yourself. Please, please don't do this." She stared at her husband with tears starting to roll down her cheeks, but he didn't waiver. Slowly, she let go of her unconscious son and cuffed herself to the headboard, trying to leave just enough wiggle room to allow her paws to slip out later. He pressed the gun barrel even harder against her forehead.

"Tighter, you fucking cunt."

Carol let out a quiet, frightened mewl and clicked the cuffs tighter around her wrists. There was no escaping, now.

"Alright, Care." Richard backed up from her, dragging their son from atop her body by the hair on the boy's head. The boy's cock slipped from his mother's pussy, and a stream of cum spilled out as it did. "Fuck, he even came inside. Fucking whore. Anyway, this is how it's going to go." Richard dropped the boy on the ground to punctuate his statement. "I'm going to cuff your ankles now. You kick at me, you kick at the gun, any other BULLSHIT like that, and I'm going to slit our son's throat open, right here. You get me?"

"Richard," Carol choked again through tears, "he's-"

"DON'T 'RICHARD' ME, YOU WHORE!" her husband screamed at the top of his lungs. Carol flattened her ears as more tears welled up from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She waited a moment until her breath stopped catching in her throat, and extended her legs downwards. She bit down on her lip hard to fight back a whine as she felt the other two cuffs at the bottom corners of the bed clicking tight around both of her ankles.

"S-sweetie, please," Carol croaked quietly. "Think about what you're doing."

Richard hesitated, then sighed, holding the side of his gun to his forehead. "Do you really even care about me? Was all of this a lie?"

"Of course I care about you!" Carol strained a little against her restraints. Her voice wasn't as hoarse anymore, but she was still putting in a lot of effort just to speak. "We're family! I married you! Both Erik and I love and care about you! Please, put the gun down."

Richard stood still for a moment, until Erik began to stir on the ground. "Alright, okay. I haven't been fair." He picked up his son by the hair again and dropped the boy on Carol. "You can be together." Then, he held the gun against the back of Erik's head, and pulled the hammer back.

"OH RICHARD N-"

Everything went white and red. For a moment, she thought that her husband had killed them both, before the disorientation began to subside, along with the ringing in her ears. After a moment, she began to hear laughter, as well as her own screaming. After a minute, she was able to stop screaming. When she opened her eyes, however, the gorey scene made her screams, and the laughter, begin all over again.

Erik's face had been partially blown off from behind, and brains, blood, and eyeball had sprayed all over Carol, coloring her snow-white fur deep red.

"You're sick!" Carol cried, through some combination of a scream and a whisper.

Richard grinned and pointed the gun at his own chest. "Oh, I'M sick?" He turned the gun back toward Carol, making her tense up. "You're the one fucking her own son on her wedding anniversary."

Carol bit her lip. He did have a point.

"Now, you wait here, honey. Don't move a muscle." Richard was grinning widely now, his eyebrows furrowed fiercely and menacingly, before turning and leaving the room.

"Erik," Carol whispered up at the kitten laying limp on top of her, "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry you got caught up in this." She closed her eyes and inhaled her son's scent, which was mostly covered now by the smell of blood. A moment later, her ears perked up and aimed toward the bedroom door as she heard something that sounded like a toolbox being lugged toward the room. The bed lurched as something heavy was set between her legs, and Erik was once again pulled roughly off of his mother.

"The way I see it," Richard began as he leaned over Carol's face, holding a knife and sharpener, "the best way to make sure you don't fuck around with me anymore is to make sure that you don't get around anymore and that you don't fuck anymore."

Carol's eyes locked wide open as she stared at the knife as her husband began to sharpen it. "Ohhh, Richard, no no no no. Richard, please no."

Richard responded to her pleas by running the knife tip up and down her cunt. "What's that? Don't sharpen the knife? Well, it'll hurt a lot more, but if you insist."

Carol's objection caught in her throat as she felt the knife going straight into her clit. She screamed now, and heard herself as loud as she could be for the first time tonight, unhindered by her tight throat or the ringing in her ears caused by the earlier gunshot. "Ohhh!" She squirmed and fought futilely against the cuffs. "Richard! Nooo!"

"Since you've been soiled by our son," Richard continued, "it's up to me to purify you of your disloyalty, so out your lying, cheating, whore cunt must come." He began to saw through her flesh slowly, cutting a large deep circle around her pussy. Slowly and steadily, her husband continued his work, working the blade through her flesh until it connected with the initial jab. "And now," he said in a sing-song voice while he licked his lips and sunk his claws into the cum-coated insides of her cunt and pulled, "we just... slowly... and steadily... pull this out."

Carol thrashed now against her restraints as she felt her sex being torn from her. She felt and heard each tear and snap of the tissue holding everything in place rippling through her body. This was the second greatest sense of loss she'd ever felt, next to the death of her son.

"There we go." Richard leaned over her and held up, in one solid piece her womb, birth canal, ovaries, and pussy lips. She had no idea that he'd removed so much of her actual skin with the knife. It looked like there would now be a three inch wide hole between her thighs where her pussy used to be. "All better, now. Good luck getting yourself fucked with no parts to fuck with."

"Richard, please stop this..." In her mind, Carol knew it was far, far too late to stop him before any permanent damage was done, but she still tried. "I'm sorry. Please, please stop this."

"No." Richard seemed to finally be calm, possibly having worked out his anger, but he still refused to budge. "I told you. There are two things I have to do to make sure you stay loyal to me."

"Oh, Richard, please..."

The black cat loomed over her once more and grasped her jaw with one paw and held a hammer over her lips with his other. Carol shook her head and kept her mouth shut as new tears welled up from her eyes, but the steady grip on her cheeks forced her jaw open, and Richard went to work with his hammer, knocking out her teeth one by one, tick tick tick. Carol sobbed and stared up at her husband through bleary eyes. "Shto'," she tried to plead, but couldn't with her jaw forced open and throat filling with countless broken teeth.

Richard held his wife's mouth shut when he was finished and straddled her small breasts. "All done. Now swallow."

Carol shook her head and tried to spit the teeth out instead, and immediately regretted this decision, finding her mouth clamped with both her husband's paws, and her nose covered with both of his thumbs.

"Swallow if you want to breathe."

Carol obeyed, reluctantly swallowing several times to get all of the teeth down. She cringed as the pointy things stabbed and scraped on their way down into her stomach.

"That's better, whore. Now, open wide." She obeyed this time, fearful of what would happen if she refused, and she felt something clamp down onto her tongue and pull it out, stretching it painfully. The tension caused her head to lift off the bed a few inches, before she felt a sharp pain and her head snapped back. She screamed again, but her mouth felt strange. After her blurry vision cleared again, she saw her husband, grinning and dangling her tongue over her face.

"Oh, Wihher, ngoo..."

"Richard, yes." The black cat climbed off of his wife and dug through the toolbox, eventually pulling out some rubber tubing and a rusty bandsaw. "But you still need to be punished for disobeying my order to swallow, and I still need to do something about you 'getting around.'"

Carol eyed the tools in Richard's hands and her entire body tensed. Adrenaline flooded her again and she strained with her throbbing muscles against the restraints. The bed creaked once. She struggled to form words without her teeth, and managed to slur, "Ngo, ngo ngo ngo! Oh Wihher, pweeh!"

Richard walked wordlessly beside her and she felt something tighten around her right arm, just under her shoulder, and then a sharp pain poured over her body. She tried to look, but he held her muzzle vertically so she couldn't see what was going on, though she could certainly feel and hear it.

Her arm felt like it was on fire. Sounds like the wet peeling of flesh gave way to the sawing of bone, and her entire body shook as the saw teeth bit into her arm bone. Moments, or maybe minutes later, she heard the sound of a scraping knife, and sensed her husband backing away. Carol dared to look at the damage, and found her fears had come true. She wailed, even as she was reeling at the loss of her arm, her husband had made his way downward and had begun working on her right leg. She didn't even notice the tourniquet until the fire started up again, surging through her leg and up her body as Richard sliced through flesh and sawed through bone. She didn't notice that her face had been soaked in tears already from the pain.

It didn't take long for him to finish his work, and Carol found herself a quadruple amputee. "Oh, Wihher, why?"

"Because." He jabbed the knife at her left nipple and pushed it into her small breast. "You were getting yourself knocked up." He pushed the knife a little deeper. "By our son." He pushed the knife deeper still, driving the point down against her collarbone. "On our-"

"Woah pumkin! Pumkin!" Carol was suddenly panicking, differently from before, and was having more trouble forming words. "'ick, are you ahawwy hryig koo kiww me?!"

"What? No!" Richard set the knife aside and cupped his wife's bleeding breast. "Oh God did I go too far? I'm sorry!" The black cat leaned down and held carol gently. "Did I miss a safeword?"

"No no, sweek-heark," Carol murmured at him, shaking slightly in his grip. She was getting a little better at speaking now, replacing hard 'Ts' with 'Ks.' "I 'houghk you were going ko push da' in-koo my hart."

Richard looked a little upset by this. "How could you think I'd do something like that? You're my everything. I'd never kill you." He mimed dragging his finger down from her left nipple. "I was just going to leave a deep gash."

Carol bit her lip with her toothless gums. "Arri'e arri'e, I panickk. I'm horry I killg ga moog." She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself relax into her husband's chest fur. "You really huh..." Carol struggled to make the word "surprised. "...hurprighed me when you blew Erik's brain out all over me!" She pressed her nose against him. "I almoh' came right gen and gere."

"Yeah, it's too bad about him." Richard leaned over the edge and looked at his son. "You were the one who planned this, though."

"That I wah, hweetie. I'm gwad you wemembereg ga hafe-werg."

"'Oh Richard' means go, 'pumpkin' means stop. It wasn't hard to remember, silly." Richard rested on his back, laying in the blood of his wife and son while holding Carol tightly against his chest. "We're going to need to get you to a hospital soon, though, Care."

Carol gazed up at her husband and purred softly. "Juh' hol' me wike thi' for a while firhh, alrigh?"

"Alright, sweetie, but promise you'll do me next time." Richard lifted Carol up slightly and locked his lips with hers, and the tip of a knife pressed in gently against Carol's breast and slid slowly into the flesh, scraping against her breastbone again.

"Oh, Risharr," moaned Carol. The couple purred loudly into each other as the best anniversary date ever came to a close.