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Another long day of baking. The cat's apron was powdered with sugar and flour, splatters of batter and icing hardened against the fabric as he finally started to clean up his pans and bowls. One last cake in the oven and he would be done. Of course it still needed icing but that could be done up quickly enough.

He breathed in the sweet scents of of his triumphs deeply, admiring the kitchen which was littered with cookies and cupcakes and sundry pastries. He would earn plenty for the bake sale. It was all he could do not to tuck into a few himself. but he dredged up his willpower and distracted himself with dishes.

Zed's tail flicked absently to the beat of a song floating around in his head, his bare rump, swishing from side to side in time. He never developed shame of his body. He was admittedly lucky to have a quick metabolism that gave him a slim, vaguely boyish look since a very young age. At home, clothes seemed more restrictive than utilitarian than modest so they flew off at the door and in the kitchen an apron was more than enough to protect the tenders so he baked in the nude, dancing about his kitchen until he was satisfied with his work.

He had been satisfied a whole batch of cookies ago but he wanted something for himself too and the over was still warm so he did up one more cake and pondered how to finish it. Time was running out and if he didn't figure out what ice it with he might miss his window if he decided on a glaze.

But pulling off the apron and dusting the flour out of his arm fur it hit him. He glanced down at his half erection then gave his hips a swish to send it bouncing back and forth. He had that goofy cookbook a friend had given him as a joke a few months back. He'd actually enjoyed the gift. He'd never admit it in public but the taste of semen went really well in certain recipes.

The cat rummaged in his cabinets for a bowl and a clean spatula then pondered the pantry for flavours to combine with his own natural batter. Couldn't go too sweet or it would mask the flavour and too heavily spiced would hardly work with the cake itself. But quickly enough he grabbed some nutmeg, a bit of powdered sugar and just enough milk to bind them together and started mixing furiously.

He didn't much need a recipe from his cookbook. He knew what he liked well enough to make a simple glaze. Quickly enough he had a thick goo of sugar speckled with spice and smiled, dipping a finger in and sampling much to his joy. It was a little too sweet but if he could dredge up enough of his ingredient he guessed it would be forgivable.

He wiped the sticky finger clean then dipped it again in the olive oil he always kept nearby in case of sautee emergencies and purred as the cool oil dripped over his cock. he just let it drizzle against his warm skin at first before gathering a little more and really spread it on, stroking slow and smooth at first to make sure he was properly shined and marinated before he picked up the pace. He panted and groaned as he twisted his fingers against his modest length, milking precum to the tip of his 5 inches then letting it drip down onto the tiled floor with subtle little splats.

They might have been little splats but they were plentiful. His eager metabolism made the process much easier: copious gushes of precum, generous servings of sperm. He was nothing if not fertile. He reached down to his balls and fondled the oversized eggs hanging in his sac, tugging and twisting with very delicate care. Gradually he could feel them resisting the attenion, drawing closer and closer with each stroke of his cock until he knew he was ready.

He released his balls, letting them swing against the heel of his hand as he churned up his last ingredient. Holding back as hard as he can to make sure he got the biggest load he could. Then, with a harsh meow, he flooded his frosting with one more ingredient. Long, pearlescent ropes of cream gushing against the rim of a bowl barely lifted in time to catch it all. He counted dreamily until all fourteen sloppy spikes sat in a glimmering pool on the frosting and sighed.

Excellent. That would definitely be enough that it would shine through the sugar. he wiped himself clean of the oil, being very careful with his cock still tender from the vigourous whipping it received then dipped his finger in the spooge to taste the flavour. Not quite salty enough. At least not enough to completely neutralize the bitterness. So he reached out and pinched a little sample of salt into the mixture and mixed.

The oven dinged proudly, announcing his cake and shutting itself down automatically. A high tech kitchen was Zed's favourite kitchen. Quickly enough he extracted his sweet cake and eased it out of the pan. He used one of his skewers to perforate the cake then poured his glaze, watching the holes soak up his seed laden frosting deep inside, lacing the whole thing with his flavour. This was a cake to be proud of. Every ingredient from scratch and a literal portion of himself mixed in deep.

The cat cleaned up his new messes, impatiently waiting for the cake to cool enough that he could slice himself a helping of it. But his kitchen was clean long before his cake was ready and just before he couldn't fight it anymore the doorbell rang. A welcome distraction.

A couple more buffs against his fur to shake the last of the power from it and he swung the door open revealing his naked self and the waft of baking to a familiar panda.

"Hey, Zed," he said gleefully. "You still baking or do you actually have time for people?"

The monochromatic fellow liked to tease but Zed waved him in and smiled. "Just got finished. Don't eat anything off the table though. It's for the bake sale tomorrow. You wanna get the cards out, Xin?"

"Sure. You said nothing on the table?" the bear replied grabbing the nearest knife for the one pastry that hadn't made it there.

The cat couldn't stop him, he'd left to get his cards out of his room, he should have known his friend couldn't be trusted with that much food but he thought he could go for a few seconds. But when he returned his cake was cut and crumbs of it dribbled down Xin's face while the thick goo rolled over his fingers and the open face of his cake.

"This... cake..." Xin exclaimed through the mouthful. "How...? You have to make me one."

The cat chuckled and grabbed the remainder of his glaze considering it very carefully before he turned around and started to pour a little bit over his dick. "Then come here and help me make more frosting."

Xin stopped dead for a moment, looked at the cake, the cat's dick, then the cake with a lick to gather the glaze off his lips. "This is one of your cookbook cakes isn't it?"

"Do you still want me to bake you a cake?"

"Hell yeah, I want a cake. Gimme that dick. I'll milk out a gallon if I have to."