FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

We meet again, dear fuzzies and scalies and beasties. Kitty's got treats for you, sweeter than you can imagine. kchishol1970 commissioned me to write a story involving cake, bunnies, a leopard female, and more cake! His rich and wonderful ideas excited me to no end, and I agreed to work with him and provide you this piece of work, which has everything a teenager ever wants: Cake and pretty buxom females! The story's more complex than that, of course, and I hope you'll enjoy it enough to reach the climactic ending. Enjoy! And, as always, don't forget to:

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***

Building, cars, people, and lights sped by. No matter how much he tried to focus on his Spiderman comic, the distractions passing at the edge of his vision reminded him where he was, and where he was going.

As far away from his life as possible.

"She has a fully equipped gaming room, full of PCs and consoles and everything you can think of," Paige drawled. "What's not to like about that?"

Tom pursed his lips and squinted at the text. Why was it so small? To make it worse, the car tilted more often than not due to the sheer number of turns, making it impossible to remember the text bubbles. He leafed through the comic, his gaze darting from one panel to the other. His pulse didn't rise when the Green Goblin entered the fray, nor did his teeth clench when he threatened Peter Parker.

He felt nothing. They were just drawings on crumpled paper, after all.

"Your aunt will take care of you. I know what you're thinking, Tom, the doubts crossing through your mind." She paused when somebody honked at her to go faster.

No you don't, he thought. She only talked, talked, talked. Even when she stopped, her high pitched voice still filled Tom's mind, just like her auburn curls filled his vision. They spilled onto her frail shoulders and nudged at her pointy tits. Tom smirked at that. Sharp voice, sharp tits!

"She wanted you," she emphasized for the tenth time. "We didn't call her, Tom. She called us."

"The same thing," he said. He was still forced to leave everything behind, no matter who called.

Paige sighed. "It's not the same thing. She's willing to offer you the best care ever." During a red light, she turned to fixate her stark emerald eyes on him, too big on a too small face. "All you have to do is accept it."

"I don't have a choice anyway."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do, Tom," she said, then attempted a smile. It came out wry. "Give her a chance. That's all I ask. That's all she asks."

Tom looked past the back window as he clenched his jaws, hard enough to block the impending wave of tears.

"She trusted you enough to be the first to call us. Of all your relatives, she broke the ice."

"Because she's isn't dead," he whispered.

Paige rolled her eyes and returned to the wheel when somebody honked from behind. "Not all of them are dead, kiddo, and none else offered but her."

Blood surged through Tom's limbs. His fists clenched, and his temples throbbed. "I don't know her. I don't know those relatives you speak of, dead or not dead."

"Give her time."

Tom scoffed. "Time. Everyone says that. 'Give it time, it will pass, accept and move on'," he drawled with a high pitched voice. "My parents were my life. That," he thrust a thumb behind, "is my life we leave behind! Did I have a choice? NO! Some weirdo crone just called and now I'm being shipped to her, because that's what you social workers do. You ship people off for a paycheck!" His gaze sank to the floor, and he dug his fingers tight into his straight hair. Each panting breath that left his raw throat stung more than the previous.

"That's what I am," he rasped. "Your paycheck. Stop pretending you care."

She shook her head, and her eyes fixated on the road ahead. Tom leaned onto his side, his torso positioned behind her chair so that he wouldn't meet her gaze. Annoying as she was, she didn't deserve his rant. Father taught him better than that.

"I'm sorry Pa," he whispered under his breath. "I'll do better next time."

Buildings gave way to trees, and the road thinned ahead. Tom stared at the shades of green and brown flashing past him, listened to the constant buzz of the engine, and bit his tongue when the car bumped something. He winced, and Paige's gaze drifted to him in the rear view mirror.

"I should slow down."

"Don't," Tom cut in. "Don't wanna be late. It's weird enough as it is."

She still slowed down, despite the bleeding sun beating straight in her face. Tom knew nothing of his aunt. Only that she was rich and punctual, like every oldie on Earth. Paige insisted with irritating urgency they get to her estate by 6:30 PM, and the timer on the radio already hit 8 PM. Great...

Tom's stomach lurched when the sudden break hurled him forward, into the driver's seat.

"Sorry!" Paige blurted out. She unbuckled her seat belt and practically dove out of the car to spew platitudes at the portly woman waiting by the side of the ornate iron portcullis. Tom leaned forward to take a peek at his aunt when the dreadful words came.

"He's getting out now. He may be a little shy but he's really looking forward..."

Her words faded to a faint buzz. Tom took a deep breath to still his racing heart, wet his lips and put on his poker face.

"There he is. Tom, this is--"

"Aunt Tilley," he interrupted as he stepped in front of her. An onrush of suave scents hit him, pungent yet soothing. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

Her smile deepened, emphasizing her generous curves. "Good to see you Tom. Let's go inside."

Tom raised his eyebrows, and Paige took a step forward. "Mrs. Devereaux, there's a few papers, a few agreements--"

"Yes, yes," aunt Tilley said. She beckoned at the guard who opened the gate. "Bring Helen. She'll fill in the formalities."

"Mrs. Devereaux, it only takes a moment. As the legal guardian of Tom here--"

"I have to get him inside before the sun sets. There's a chill in the air, and he's only wearing a T-shirt. That's how you catch a cold."

Tom bit his lip. Once, he would have smiled, perhaps laughed and turned around to stick his tongue out at the annoying, blank, cliché Paige. Now, all he had energy for was following his aunt while the guard explained Tilley's titles and duties to her.

Aunt Tilley wore a classy suit, plain and simple, with a bunny brooch pinned under a thick shoulder. An aquamarine pendant hung over her broad neck, the gemstone matching the faded blue of her doe eyes. Her hazel curls were thick and rich, flowing down to the lobes of her ears, strained with the burden of her exquisite earrings. Golden filigree, encrusted with jewels of all kinds. Tom scrunched his nose at them. Too fancy and sparkly. Made her look like a modern day witch.

"I'm not cold. It's freaking summer."

"She doesn't need to know that, m'dear."

"So this is where you deal with that social worker in a very cool, rich woman sort of way in order to earn my trust."

"No," she said with her rich, crisp clear voice.

"No? Then why?"

"Patience is a virtue I never inherited from my parents," she said, then took a turn onto a weaving, tiled pathway that led up to the estate sprawled atop the low hill.

Tom perked up at that. "How long did you wait?"

"As long as I had to."

"Were you annoyed?"

"No, I had coffee. The guard's shack by the portcullis has an excellent coffee making machine."

"I bet you were," Tom insisted.

"You'd lose."

"I don't think so."

"Neither do I."

Tom wiped his nose to conceal half a smile. For a fat granny that wobbled rather than strolling, she was quite shrewd. Annoyingly so.

"You underestimate me," Tom said.

"So do you."

"No, I don't. That fake smile gave you away. Gave everything away," he paused to swallow and contain his rising anger. He couldn't. "You're like them. All smiles and pleasantries, thinking you know what's best for me. If you did, you wouldn't have called."

"You're right," she said with practiced nonchalance.

Tom froze and clutched the seams of his jeans as she turned around, arms wrapped around her stiff torso. "I don't know you, and what you know about me is that one phone call. The one that ripped you off from everything you knew and brought you to this land of nowhere."

"You're god damn right."

She lifted a stubby finger. "Three days. If you don't like it here, I'll make whatever arrangements you ask."

Tom held his breath for fear of saying the wrong thing. Three days? Piece of cake! A mere blink, and he would wake up in a small, cozy apartment in the center of the city. Closer to school, yet identical to the one he lived in before...before it all happened.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "Sure, as long as you buy me the apartment I want and send me money until I get a part time job."

"And once you do?"

"Thank you and goodbye," he said.

"You got a deal, Tom, and the strength to speak like a man" she said, and stretched out a meaty hand. Tom shook it, and winced when her grip tightened around his wrist. "But I'm strong too."

"How did you..." Tom trailed off as he drew back caressed his sore hand. Bloody hell, she was stronger than him!

"Pastry. Who else would have baked the treats waiting for you inside?"

"The bakers?"

"Already sent them on a nice vacation during your stay."

Tom scoffed. "Good. Cake or no cake, you knew I won't stay."

She smiled for a fleeting moment before turning and urging him forward. "Still want to make the most of it, m'dear."

She spoke no more as they passed under an arch. The pungent fragrance of flowers hit Tom like a truck, and he coughed and snorted. Tilley giggled in front of him and pointed at a row of hyacinth.

"Did you know that every color bears a slightly different scent? Got some rare ones too, if botany is your thing."

"It isn't," Tom said. He summoned a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose soft enough for Tilley to keep going. Damn flowers. They reeked, just as they reeked the day he brought a bouquet to Ma and Pa's graves.

He followed her through the labyrinthine corridors, surrounded by tall shrubs, towering vines dangling on racks, and thick, smooth hedge. He ran a hand through it and tilted his head at its softness before the hiss of water slipped through the arch in front of them.

Several fountains decorated the front yard, shaped after each continent. Isles floated across the broad base, carrying plants and small sculptures of animals. Tom couldn't see what they were made of in the gloom. Only the shapes stood out, tiny yet intricate.

"I ran out of ideas, so I settled for the whole world," Tilley said.

"Mhm," Tom grunted. More ostentatious displays. "That's cool."

"Accurate too. We can grab a lantern and come back after dinner."

"Or we can fall into a deep, three days sleep. I'd like that."

Tilley flashed him a brief smile. "You'd soil yourself in your sleep. Body's gotta function."

He coughed at that. Gross! "Pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Oh," Tilley said. "You meant cryo sleep? Because I have a prototype machine for that."

A shudder crept through Tom at the thought. "No thanks."

"Good, because I don't have such a thing. Got you!"

She whirled on her heels and thrust a finger at him, faster than Tom expected from such a portly woman. He wobbled a few steps back, his arms raised against the light spilling through countless windows.

"Hmm," she said, then turned around. "You made it more dramatic than I expected."

"I didn't--I stumbled," Tom said, emphasizing every letter. "Why are there no lamps? Bet several people tripped and broke their necks against the fountains."

"Some did."

He frowned. "You're kidding."

She winked at him. "Getting better by the second."

He strode to catch up when she knocked on the door. A young female urged them inside, well shaped and dressed in a flowing satin dress that matched the forest green of her eyes. Tom's spit stuck in his throat when her gaze fixated on him, warm and piercing above a broad, enticing smile.

"Good to meet you Tom." She stretched out her hand, and Tom grabbed her lithe palm between his numb fingers.

"How d'you--how do you know my name?"

"Everybody does. It's just a single name, but we, the staff, are many." She removed a stray ebony lock from a dimpled cheek. "If you'd like, that is. I'm Ebony."

"The overlord of this sorry, empty space," Tilley added. "Respect her, Tom, for she does battle with the most fearsome of enemies: dust."

Tom nodded. "Of course." His gaze slipped to her perky bosom. It swayed with fluid grace, each ripple in the satin stroking at her round, perfect hills.

"Mind if I show you to your room?" She didn't speak--she sang.

"Yes, no, yes, I mean," he paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "What else is there to do?"

"Hah!" Tilley burst. "More than you can handle, Tom." Her voice echoed through the estate, and Tom realized he was alone with Ebony. His stomach churned, and his cheeks seethed and turned beet red.

"Not before you get changed," Ebony said and grabbed his hand. He shuddered at her firm grip, but her smile reassured him. "Unless you want to dine in your current outfit?"

"Not really," Tom mumbled.

"So I thought."

She led him through one corridor, then another, then a tight turn and up a stairway. More corridors followed. This one had broad paintings depicting flora and fauna, while the next flaunted pedestals with various trophies and a thick, fluffy carpet.

Not a carpet. Furs, stitched together seamlessly.

"You need a long sleeved shirt or something loose to flow across your beautiful body," Ebony said.

"I'm not beautiful. Skinny as a toothpick." Her smile faded at that, and Tom's fingers clenched around hers as they took another turn.

"Our beauty is always the last we accept," Ebony said once she stopped in front of an ornate mahogany door. "It's as if we like hurting ourselves."

"Know what you mean," Tom said. He tapped his foot and bit his lip as their combined heat urged sweat to ooze out of his palms. "It's tricky."

"It doesn't have to be." Ebony cupped his hand between her frail ones and crouched to meet his dwarf stature. "It can be simple. Like, you and me working out each day, right here. Tilley's got everything. Even a personal trainer." Her smile broadened, and Tom's eyes widened.

"You?"

"I'm a woman of many talents, just like your aunt."

Screw his aunt! "Want!" Tom blurted out. "I'd like to. To train. Become stronger and all."

She giggled, rose, and pushed the door open to the biggest dormitory Tom had ever seen. "So you shall."

Tom stepped inside, and turned to face her when she didn't follow.

"Do you want me to come in? Show you where is what?"

Tom half nodded, half shook his head and clasped his hands. "Nah. Got it. Is part of the pleasure, to discover new things on my own."

A chuckle escaped her. "You sure?" She cocked her head, just enough for a sliver of straight hair to flow past one of her playful eyes.

"Pretty sure. Thanks for everything, uh..." he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists until nails bit into his palms. What was her freaking name?

"Ebony," she said. "Give me one day, and you'll whisper it in your sleep." She winked, and Tom froze.

"Uh, sure. Later!"

He let out a drawn-out sigh when he closed the door. With Ebony here, he suddenly wanted the time to pass slower. And it wasn't only her! She had a whole retinue under her employ!

Tom cupped his face in his palms and breathed hard and fast. His blood engorged member still throbbed in remembrance of her curvaceous body, of her swaying ass and those perky breasts. He was so hard that he rushed to the bathroom, pushed down his jeans, and rubbed his cock with broad, hard strokes.

It only took a minute for his heart to thump in his chest and his climactic ascent to hit its peak. He saw her within his mind's eyes, stripped of coverings. Tom took her from behind, squeezing her breasts as hard as he clamped down on his own stiff member.

Then, he thrust into her silken depths, as hard and fast as his strokes. She whimpered, and her hands rushed to grip his. Her straight, lush hair filled his face, soft as silk, yet not softer than she was down there. She was so wet, and her pussy dribbled with juices. So wet, and so hot, and so swollen with arousal!

Tom clenched his teeth and thrust forward as he came. Thick spurts left his pulsating cock, each sending surges of elation through his stiff frame. By the time it ended, Tom panted, a crooked grin plastered on his face. He never came so fast, so hard. He cleaned himself, flushed to erase traces of his excitement, washed his hands, then splattered cold water across his sweat drenched brow. Its cool touch soothed his inner fire, allowing him to think again.

He had to do something, in order to get somewhere.

The dinner!

He rushed into the dormitory, past the matrimonial bed and towards the armoire sitting by two broad windows. Shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, and pants of every kind dangled in front of him. He grabbed a tan, woolen sweater, baggy trousers, and hurled them onto the bed. Then, he got out of his ragged clothes, folded them neatly atop a hardwood table, and placed them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Everything looked positively clean, without as much as a stain, and a gentle fragrance floated about the room. Lemon, mixed with orange and mint and something more.

And it was so warm! Naked, and he didn't even flinch as he took in the sheer size of the room. He had a giant TV sat atop a desk, with a PS4 and Xbox One tucked onto the shelves below. His desk had a desktop PC at its foot, with a glass panel to show off the dancing led lights of the components. And the PC's screen was huge! It didn't even rest on the desk, but on the wall beyond. Gadgets filled the desk's surface instead: tablets, smart phones, everything he wanted.

A bookcase filled to the brim with books took up almost a quarter of a wall, a second filled with DVDs stood next to it, a third with encyclopedias. Tom squinted at the labels of some of the DVDs. Hentai? His jaw hung at that.

"Mother of...gah." He blinked several times to make sure it was real and pinched his arm. A yelp escaped him. His feet tangled in one another, and Tom growled as he crashed onto the bed. He didn't crash--he sank a few inches into the softest mattress ever. The sleek coverlets reflected the faint amber light of several lamps spread across the room. Tom fondled the soft material between two fingers and gasped.

"Silk. This is god damn silk."

And tapestries on the wall, paintings of all sorts and sizes. Two nightstands, one stacked with comics, the other a sink. A sink? Tom trudged towards it, turned it open, and giggled when hot water forced his fingers back. This room had everything!

He sprawled on his back and stared at the dark brown canopy, laced with golden strands. This whole bed worth more than anything he ever owned at a given point. A shudder crept through his frame at the realization, cold enough to make him wrap his arms around his bare torso.

Trifles. All of them. He'd get bored of games, reading, this and that, and be stuck with aunt Tilley forever.

"No," he whispered under his breath. "She may have the means, but she can't replace them." Nobody could.

Tom wiggled out of the bed, dressed into his new attire, and paused before the door to take a deep breath.

"Don't be rude. Engage in the discussion while keeping distance. Most importantly, be yourself." Pa's words, spoken with a squeaky, shaky voice. They were meant for strangers, not relatives, yet he raised his head and strode out of the room before his resolve crumbled.

He got lost in the labyrinthine corridors, and walked back to where he thought his room was when Ebony appeared from a corner. Tom walked straight into her, and his face sank between her breasts. Heat smothered him for a short moment before he pulled back.

"I'm--I didn't--I wasn't--"

Ebony raised a hand, and Tom stopped. "It was an accident. Let's leave it at that."

He nodded, and Ebony pushed back a strand of jet black hair from her eyes with green speckled nails. "You got lost, didn't you?"

Tom nodded again, and she sighed. "Dear Tilley. She wants what's best for us, and sometimes she gets carried away. Let me take you to her."

Tom couldn't object, even if he wanted to. His cheeks burned, and sweat cascaded from his palms after the brief dive he took between a woman's breasts. An attractive one at that. Accident or not, that was the best thing ever! He swallowed hard to wet his parched throat and bit his lip to conceal the stupid grin plastered on his face.

"You'll get used to it," Ebony said, interrupting his train of perverted thoughts. "Every corridor's different, if you know where to look."

"Aha," Tom said.

"Tilley has a thing for diversity and symmetry. One half of the estate is identical with the other, down to the last detail."

"That's--that's kind crazy," he played along.

"In a good sense." Ebony let go of him as they descended a stairway. She wiped her hand on her dress and favored him a smile. "There's bad crazy, and Tilley sort of crazy. And you didn't even taste her cakes!"

His stomach sank at her reaction.

"Knew that's gross," Tom said as he gripped fistfuls of sweater.

"Sorry?"

"You wiped your hand. I saw it." He licked his trembling lips. "If you think I'm gross, don't grab my hand. Please."

She squeaked and did it anyway. "Habits. Can't get rid of them, however hard I try."

"Then don't grab my hand." He tried to jerk out of her grip, but she didn't relent.

"I want to."

"No you don't."

Her perfectly smooth brow furrowed all of a sudden. "It's just a hand. And this," she said as she rubbed her palm against his. "Is just water."

"Read that on google?" His temples pounded so hard he didn't hear Pa's voice screaming in his mind. Only a faint buzz. "Reciting the words of some smartass who thinks he knows how to make people feel better about themselves?"

Her clutch relented, and Tom pulled his hand out.

"No. Thought it would get your chin up. Sorry about this. About it all."

Tom ran down the flight of stairs and towards the dining room as she spoke.

Save your false words and false smiles, pretty, he thought as he strode into a small, cozy room. Tilley sat at a round table, in front of a stylish hearth. Trays and bowls and took up most of the space, apart from a set of dining plates and a teapot in the middle.

Tom winced when the wood cracked and groaned under the fire's harsh licks, and Tilley lowered her book.

"Ah, Tom. Sneaking up on me, eh?"

"Habits," Tom said, then closed the twin doors. The last thing he saw were Ebony's wide eyes before the wood covered her. "Hard to get rid of them."

"True that, true that," Tilley said, then motioned towards an empty chair. "Sit, so we can get started. Where's Ebony?"

"She isn't joining us," Tom said.

"That girl." Tilley sighed. "Well, means we have to eat this all by ourselves."

Tom glanced across the table. So many things! "Where are the servants?"

"Do I look like I need servants?" Tilley grabbed the covering of a bowl and revealed a roasted chicken drenched in thick gravy, with a blanket of pickles and fried vegetables. She cut a haunch, took Tom's plate, and filled it to the brim before handling it to him.

"What if I don't like chicken?" His mouth flooded at the savory smell, and his fingers tingled with the urge to tuck into it.

She shrugged. "You'll like this one."

He dabbed his fork at a loose piece of meat, grabbed a slice of tomato and a mushroom, and chewed, slow and hard. The sauce had a sharp tang to it, and the meat was divine! It took all of his willpower to keep it in his mouth. He wasn't a beggar, to gobble down everything Tilley threw at him.

"It's acceptable. What else do we have?"

"Wait for it," she said and cut herself a piece. She dipped a crumpet into her tea, giggled and mouthed it down before turning to her meal. "You're not the only one with bad habits."

"Where are the servants?" Tom repeated. "Only seen Ebony."

"The guest's villa. It's behind the estate, for when they prefer to stay here." She paused to swallow. "Which is all the time."

"Why aren't they here?"

Her faint azure eyes bore into his, warm and cold at the same time. "Did you want to meet fifty people at the same time?"

"No."

"There's your answer, now let's eat." She grabbed her knife and portioned her meat into thin bits. Tom tried, but the knife was blunt and the meat too stringy or something. He gritted his teeth as he tore it, rather than cut it. "No cake for you unless you eat it all, m'dear."

"Sounds like blackmail." The words slipped before he could clench his jaws shut.

"More like a threat," Tilley corrected with her smooth voice. "Better eat, if you know what's good for you."

Tom occupied his mouth with as much chicken and veggies as possible, yet his heart still pounded, his toes still wriggled within his tapping boot.

Patience. Remember Pa's words, he thought to himself. Yet, as soon as he gulped down the meat and looked upon her face, Tom saw the embodiment of everything he despised. Eyes, too big and cheerful. A smile, too broad for her fat face and quivering jowl. And her curled hair! It looked like Medusa during a bad hair day.

"I do know what's good for me. Why does everybody have to assume otherwise?" He placed his fork down and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. He took in a deep breath. All he had to do was relax and enjoy...all this.

Yet his aunt kept babbling, and babbling, and babbling, pausing only to sip tea, eat like a pig and breathe. Tom took one last bite of chicken before he pushed his plate away.

"Hmm," aunt Tilley uttered. "Thought you were hungrier than this."

"I've a small stomach."

"Willpower," she said as she leaned over the table to reach a tray. "That's what you need. Even when you feel like you can't take that last bite. I know you can, you know you can."

"Whatever," Tom said, and pushed everything aside to make room for the cake. It resembled a waterfall, with proper ridges and shapes. It even had some sort of hidden mechanism. Chocolate didn't simply pour down the slope, filled the pool below just under the sharp banks. It had to go somewhere, least it flooded the table long before he walked in.

Aunt Tilley leaned towards him. "What do you say?"

"Yum," Tom drawled lifelessly. "Great cake you ordered. May we eat now?"

"Sure. Cut whatever you like."

Tom started with the basin, and glanced at Tilley before he brought his knife upon it. She held her breath, and Tom cut through it.

Liquid chocolate filled the tray, yet fled under the cake rather than flooding the table. Tilley smiled and nodded, yet Tom noticed the slight furrows upon her brow, the faint twitch of her lips. He annoyed her, and he couldn't care less. Only two days left after this one.

He grabbed a bite, sloughed it through his mouth to get a proper taste. The dough was puffy and drenched in savory syrup, and the chocolate had a rich and intense taste. It melted into his mouth, gaining the thick consistency of cream.

"That's..." he paused to wave his spoon and swallow. "Tastes great. How much did you pay for it?"

"You can find the ingredients in any supermarket."

Her remark snapped something inside him. "You bought them before, or after you hired the baker?"

"That's a strange way to express your desire to help me."

"Help you to the kitchen?"

She twined her fingers and leaned against her chair. "In the kitchen, m'dear. My legs are still strong."

"Fine."

"Right now?" She raised her eyebrows and smiled faintly.

Tom scoffed. "It's night time. Who bakes during the night?"

"Me," she said as she spread her arms. "Got a night kitchen as well."

"What's the difference?"

"You'll draw the conclusion yourself."

Smug, infuriating....Tom filled his mouth with to prevent a second retort. Unlike Ebony, she was the owner of this fine establishment and showed him a measure of kindness.

But so did the social workers, and his previous legal guardian. None bothered to contact him. None cared.

The clatter of Tilley's spoon snapped him back to his senses.

"What to do now? Well, everything. Name it," Tilley urged.

Tom rose and nodded his gratitude for the dinner. "Sleep."

Tilley sighed and pushed her chair back. "Such an anticlimactic ending. I'll lead you to your room."

Tom raised his hands to block her. "Not necessary. I learned my way around here."

"Are you sure?" She said with a tilt of her head.

"Yea. There's some symmetry and all to it." He turned to leave the dining room. "Good night."

"It can't be anything but good," Tilley's voice came before he shut the door to muffle it.

He jogged through the corridors, climbed the stairs in a rush, and glimpsed at every door for the intricate carvings of his mahogany one. To meet Ebony, after his anger subsided...

"Gah," Tom gasped when he passed by his door. He stormed into the room, rotated the key in its socket until it made that pleasant clang, and pulled the door knob to make sure it was locked. The door rattled and didn't budge.

Only then did Tom release his pent-up sigh. He made it through this day, and only two remained before he would be on his own, away from people. He didn't want to hurt Ebony, or insult Tilley in her own house; it just happened.

And it started with the death of Ma and Pa.

"I'll do better," he said to himself. "I'll behave. This is their home, and I'm the guest."

Guests make the host feel good in their home as well, not only the other way around, his father's words crept into his mind. He knew that; knew all of it. If only they could stop pretending they cared...

Tom cupped face in his palms, then dug them into his greasy hair. He had to wash it. To take a shower, brush his teeth, and the rest of his nightly routine. Yet his knees shook, and his cheeks reddened when he turned towards the door. Going out meant meeting with one of them, and apologizing.

He didn't want to apologize; not when they started it.

Tom searched the racks of the armoire, then a dresser for a pair of pajamas. Loose, with orange dots and all sorts of kids crap on it, yet comfortable once he slipped into it. He piled his clothes atop a chest of drawers, got a pair of slippers from a drawer, and threw them at the foot of the bed, in case he had bathroom needs. The Persian rug caressed his toes and feet, more than the silken coverlets themselves.

Tom wrapped himself in them, giggling as he squirmed to make himself cozy. Such a huge bed, and all his! He joined the two pillows and crashed between them with a chortle. The comics stood only an arm's length away, yet even twitching his fingers took up energy he didn't have. Tom drew a coverlet across his chest, turned on his side and switched off the lamp on the nightstand.

A thump snapped him to his senses. Tom cracked an eye open and blinked to clear his vision, yet he saw nothing. Only thick, impenetrable darkness.

Thump, thump, thump coming from below. He pressed the two pillows tight across his ears and waited.

Thump, thump, thump. Like somebody pounding a piece of dough.

Then a clang of metal against wood.

Tilley! She said something about a Night Kitchen, but Tom didn't expect it to be so literal. He groaned, kick at the coverlets and fumbled for his slippers. Freaking oldies. Can't sleep, so they have to inflict their pain upon others. Tom took a step forward.

Then fell. He only managed a blink before the floor swallowed him. No--it opened, like a tunnel. Air whooshed past Tom's ears and battered his frame. No matter how hard and fast he blinked, the darkness didn't go away.

The gale tugged at his clothes. Tom gasped as a tearing sound filled his ears, followed by the flapping of loose cloth as he shed his pajamas.

His breath stuck in his throat for a curt moment, during which the warm gale tickled his tummy and caressed his pubes and balls. Then laughter burst through his throat, loud and cheerful. He was butt naked and nobody could see him!

Tom waved his arms, kicked at the air and rejoiced in the freedom. The currents didn't whip at his frame--they caressed him, embraced him, drew him in.

A dot of light appeared below. It grew in intensity and expanded, too fast. Tom glimpsed a huge, circular recipient filled with some sort of tan cream before he raised his arms to protect himself. Shapes and colors dashed past the edges of his vision, and the vat rushed up to meet him.

Tom plunged inside it. He gasped, flailed his arms and legs, yet still he sank into the thick substance. It smelled of flour, and milk, and eggs, and stuck to every part of his body. The more he thrashed, the quicker it swallowed him.

"I'm gonna die," Tom rasped. "Fuck, I'm gonna..." he trailed off as batter filled his mouth, eyes, ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, heaved for a one heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats.

He didn't die. And he could still breathe. Somehow, the batter vanished from his mouth, and ears, and eyes.

Tom opened them...

And chuckled when his feet touched the hard bottom of the vat. He waded through the batter, knees bent and arms stretched forward, like he was crossing a waist deep river. Only, this river was a giant vat of cake. Tom knew it, for the batter bore the faint taste of cocoa and vanilla.

"This is crazy," he said to himself. He squinted, and the batter became transparent.

Tom chuckled. He shut his eyes, rubbed them sore, then squinted again. Sure enough, the batter dissolved before him to reveal another vat of cake made of translucent glass. And another on the left, on the right, everywhere. Some were squat, others tall, and each bore a different shape and a different type of content. Tom's gaze fell on a cupcake recipient, and he thrust his arms forward to wiggle out of batter.

"What's next that we bake?" a frail feminine voice came.

"That one morning cake," a sharper one answered.

"For we take no break." The last voice swayed with playful tones, almost like a song.

Tom froze. He pressed his palms tight against his nakedness as the pitter patter of bare feet grew in intensity. He looked around, right and left. Nothing but baking recipients.

"It's well known, my dear," the sharp voice came.

Tom swerved left, and yelped when a giant, two legged bunny emerged from the side of a thick tray. She held a sugar pouch in a hand and a wooden spoon in the other. A snow white apron flowed across her buxom shapes, and her toque swayed in unison with her steps. Thin gray fur covered her, contrasting with the deep emerald of her eyes.

"That work we don't fear," the suave, playful voice answered.

She appeared from behind a honey jar, a caramel colored bunny tall and imposing as the first one. She towered over him, at least fifteen feet. No--sixteen. Seventeen! The closer she got, the more Tom's mouth hung and the wider his eyes became. Her bosom poked past her apron, round and perky, with tight, pink nipples.

Tom winced as his cock hardened. His throbbing length pushed into his fingers, through them, past them. Blood welled within his cheeks, and his breath caught when the caramel bunny's aquamarine eyes shifted towards the cocoa box she carried.

"When morning is near."

Tom turned towards the last bunny, a curvaceous female with twitching ears, tall toque, and well shaped legs. She shuffled instead of walking, each jerking step pushing at the slim apron to reveal pink, glistening nether lips poking through her rich, white fur. This one carried a bowl, yet Tom only had eyes for the tantalizing shapes of her pussy.

Tom sank onto his knees and squeezed his erection tight between his thighs as they converged upon the vat of cake. Their eyes fell upon him, their arms raised to throw in their ingredients, then summoned spoons out of thin air, at the same time.

He opened his mouth to say something when the ashen bunny began to sing.

"We're more than just bakers, delicious treats makers." Her voice swayed in unison with her body as she stirred the batter.

"We're cooks for the Queen, well versed in cuisine," the caramel bunny followed with a sharp crescendo.

"What makes our lives matter, is thick creamy batter," the white one pitched in. Her mellow voice rippled with suave harmony, complementing her companions as she joined in the chorus.

"The Night Kitchen's more than a magical dream. What we bake here makes every kid beam. It's our sworn duty to bring joy to the world. Up until morning, the batter we'll fold."

Tom's stiff posture relaxed as realization struck him.

"They can't see me," he whispered under his breath. "The batter's too opaque, too thick."

Yet he could see them.

A grin spread across Tom's face as he trudged closer to the ashen bunny. She rocked her hips harder than the rest as she mixed the batter. Her apron swished back and forth, each broad swing enough to reveal her sex. Tom licked his lips as his member pulsated. She looked so good! Her breasts were bigger than melons, and her lips swollen and glistening with arousal. He moved in to grab his cock...

And froze when the bunnies cheered in unison. The song stopped, and so did the ripples in the batter.

"Ready for the oven, my sweet sisters," the ashen one said.

"To a gentle oven that never gives blisters," another joined.

The last reply was muffled by Tom's pounding temples. They were going to bake him into a cake!

"Wait!" he yelled from atop his lungs. He shot forward, swung at the batter with terse strokes in a desperate attempt to climb up. As soon as he poked his head through, giggles filled his ears, loud yet pleasant.

"We made you come out," the caramel bunny said through her fit of giggling.

"Stop stalking about." The ashen one stretched her spoon over to him, and Tom clambered on top of it.

"When there's milk drought," the white one added.

Tom turned to face her, and his stomach sank when her gaze averted. He was still naked!

"I'm--I'm sorry for being--" he thrust his hands into his loins, and groaned when his fingers sank into thick batter. It stuck to him like a parka, and each step up to the spoon's handle shed thin bits of it. The ashen bunny smiled and offered him her palm to climb into.

"Help us, you must," she said.

"It's you who we trust," the caramel bunny added.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut when the ashen one carried him to the ground in one sudden motion. His stomach still lurched as he stepped onto solid ground.

"Wait. You were just about to bake the cake. Why do I have to--"he stopped as his gaze hovered over the huge recipient, too big to simply move it.

They tricked me,_he thought. _They freaking tricked me!

Yet, instead of all consuming anger, a shudder of elation crept through him. He chuckled instead of scolding them, bowed and spread his arms in acceptance. "Very well, fair ladies. What is it that I must do?"

They giggled in unison as the ashen bunny curled a hand at her back and brought a measuring cup, small enough to fit his hands. As soon as Tom grabbed it, they pointed at the giant milk bottle looming in front of him.

"How am I supposed to..." he trailed off as the bunnies blew him a kiss at the same time and left in a storm of laughter and wiggling toques, ears, and aprons. They leaned over a tray, summoned their spoons and began stirring, singing and chanting.

Tom sighed. He switched the measuring cup from one hand to the other as he strolled towards the bottle. Was he supposed to climb that gigantic thing? It stood taller than the Eiffel Tower, if not more than that.

The faint flutter of wings caught his attention. He looked up, yelped and swung the measuring cup forward in fright as a winged creature dove towards him. Tom drew back several steps, then stopped when it spoke with a grave voice.

"Don't be afraid, herald. Nothing can harm you in this land."

He raised his gaze to meet its amber eyes, straightened his posture and drew his head back. "I wasn't afraid. I just--you surprised me. Didn't see you."

"Nor I, you. Yet you carry the cup. So long as you do, you have my attention."

Tom chuckled and passed it through his hands. "It's just a cup. What if I toss it?"

The creature craned its great head. "You won't."

"Only because I want to see what happens next. This is the craziest dream I ever had."

The wolf's growling laughter filled his ears. He turned its muscular back towards him, crouched and jerked its tan, feathery wings. "Then ride me, herald, and see what happens next."

Tom shrugged. Although the creature looked positively exotic, with a wolf's coal black body and the muscular gray torso of a human, it showed no signs of aggression or treachery.

Tom clambered onto its back, wincing as the batter spread across its lush, black fur.

"Sorry, forgot I--"

"No regrets," the wolftaur said as he clambered onto his fours. Tom leaned forward, squeezed his thighs tight against the wolftaur's sides as he strode forward. Then he dashed, and took off with a mighty flap of his powerful wings.

"Whoo ohhhhh," Tom cheered as the ground shrunk below them. His heart thundered in his chest, and his stomach churned with apprehension. Yet the thrill of flying washed everything away. For the first time in his life, Tom felt free. Truly free.

"I didn't get your name," he shouted.

"Feathers."

"That's not a name!"

The wolftaur spread his wings for a steady glide and arched his head to meet Tom's eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"Because..." he trailed off, and the wolftaur's lips parted into a broad smile under his amber eyes.

"Names do not make you. Feathers are my greatest asset, so I'm Feathers."

"It's a good name!" Tom released the fistfuls of furs he clutched and leaned back, slowly, until he stood straight upon the wolftaur's muscular back. "This is amazing!"

"So is the plunge."

Tom only managed to raise his eyebrows and squeak. Feathers banked sharply, rolled, and up became down for Tom as he plummeted straight into the milk bottle. He dove into the milk headfirst and gasped as the liquid sucked him in. It filled his mouth for a brief moment before air replaced it, thick with the pungent scent of fresh milk.

"I can breathe. I can see, I can feel, I can swim," Tom said to himself. He waded through the milk, chuckling at its gentle tug upon the thick layer of hardened batter. It seeped into his makeshift parka, softening it, dissolving it with each swing of his arms and kick of his legs.

And it tickled! The last bits of it clung to his stomach and armpits, and the rippling milk around him nudged them with enough pressure to urge a faint laughter out of him. Tom scratched them off, and kicked away the last remnants stuck on his shins.

"This is," he paused to lick his lips and blink back his awe. "This is freaking amazing!"

He swam from one end of the bottle to the other, performed loops and all sorts of crazy twists he saw on TV. His body responded to everything he imagined, the way he imagined it. Tom focused hard on a spiraling stairway connected to the neck of the bottle, and blinked.

When he opened his eyes, the stairway was there, thin and with wooden steps, just the way he imagined it.

"So that's how those bunnies did it," he mumbled, then stood still until he sank to the bottom of the bottle. As soon as his toes touched the cold glass, Tom shot upwards.

"I'm in the milk, and the milk's in me," he sang with the same mellow voice as the white bunny, "God bless the milk, and God bless me."

He poked his head through the milk's surface, clambered onto the first step of his magical stairway, and filled the measuring cup to the brim.

"Slow and steady wins the race," he said while climbing the steps.

Loud cheers burst from below once he reached the rim of the bottle's mouth. He staggered, his chest vibrating with the intense cries as he steadied and rose the measuring cup high above his head. From up here, he could see every recipient. They all sprawled below him, an endless sea of various shapes filled with various forms of dough and batter.

"The milk drought is over, ladies!" Tom proclaimed.

They waved their arms in unison with their aprons and toques, blowing him kisses and drenching him in words, warmer than the milk itself. During that moment, Tom ignored his nakedness; the bunnies showed him genuine affection, and seemed disturbed by his manhood not one bit. Heck, he had seen them! Shouldn't they see him as well?

Tom cheered, and raised the cup again, much to their delight. The caramel and the ashen one pointed at the vat of cake with great urgency, and Tom wrapped his free arm around his chest and bowed before tilting the cup.

The milk cascaded, thick as a waterfall, into a dough batter pan and a vat of whipped cream below. Tom's eyes widened at the never ending stream for a moment before a sharp cry urged him to stop. The bunnies looked up at him, smiled in unison, then proceeded to stir the batter, singing their song.

Tom watched them. From above, their perky breasts stood out, three pairs of swaying mounds. He winced as a tingle rushed through his balls. It slithered up his sack, and crept through his rising member. It grew and expanded with each throb, until the head reddened and swelled. Tom's breath stopped when the caramel bunny glimpsed his manhood, giggled and pointed it out. The ashen bunny cheered and raised her thumbs at him, while the white one tilted her head, smiled shyly, and pressed her apron tighter against her generous chest.

Tom grinned at their reactions. Their song came to an end as they stirred the batter with renewed vigor, glancing up at him in turns. The ashen bunny slapped the wrist of her caramel sister when she caught her starring, and the white one used the moment to form a heart with her thumbs. She tucked her apron tight between her thighs.

Tom bit his lip at that. Was she wet? He squinted in an attempt to emulate the vision trick that allowed him to see through milk and batter, but it didn't work. All he could do was sit up here, his fingers itching to grab his rock hard cock and rub it in front of his audience.

The sharp, elegant voice of the ashen bunny snapped him out of his reverie."Our work is done, look at our treat."

"Now jump inside it, our Queen you'll meet," the white bunny urged.

"What you must do, no easy feat." The caramel bunny said while tilting from side to side, her eyes dancing across his erection.

Tom raised his hands, and they perked up. "Ladies, I am..." he trailed off as his gaze fell on the monstrous layered cake they created. The first layer dripped with liquid chocolate, the second was coated in a thick layer of caramel, and the base was thick with whipped cream, shaped in intricate filigrees at its edges.

"I am awestruck."

They jumped, squeaked with glee, then stopped to share glances. Tom drew his head back at the puzzling reaction, and gasped when they grinned and pulled their aprons up to reveal their breasts. They jiggled as they danced around one another, pointing at him and winking in turns.

Tom's blood quickened at their marvelous shapes, at the narrow crevices between their thighs and at the silken depths tucked within. He stood upright, pushed his hips forward, wriggled them from side to side and crowed like a rooster. Their high pitched laughter twined with his voice in perfect harmony.

Sudden strength flared through Tom's limbs. His muscles grew taut, his jaws clenched, and his eyes fixated onto the cake below. It was now or never. The bunnies, too, encouraged him with swaying hips and gentle smiles.

Tom sucked in a deep breath, and jumped.

He sank neck deep into the soft cake, and the jerk of an arm sent him tumbling inside its silky confines. Liquid chocolate, ripples of caramel and whipped cream surrounded him, engulfed him, clung to him. Yet, just like before, the texture dissolved from his nose, mouth and ears after a brief moment. Tom chuckled, slid a finger along the furrows in the chocolate, and sucked it clean as the fissure above him sealed.

"Neat," he mouthed. He wrapped his arms around his torso to clean the sticky mess that clung to him. After a brief stroke along the tight ridges of his arm, he stopped.

That was too hard and big to be his arm. He ran his hand along it again, and met the same iron hard texture.

"It can't be..."

Yet it was. His arms grew thick and strong, his flat belly acquired a tight six pack, and his blood engorged cock stood at least twice as long as before, with a thickness to match it. Tom's breath fled him as a surge of amazement washed through him.

He was a man! Not a boy, like everybody said, but a man, well shaped and strong!

Tom scratched at his taut muscles, gasping and biting his lips at the perfect shape of his pecks, the well defined ridges of his abs, the thickness of his thighs, the throbs of his cock. He only had to thrust inside a woman, and she'd climax instantly.

He snickered at the thought, then lurched forward and bit his lip when the cake moved. He frowned at the sudden jerk, and squinted to pierce through the layers of chocolate, caramel, cream.

The three bunnies walked ahead of him, their posture straight and their ears folded back across their skulls. They sang to one another, smiling and giggling as they glanced back at him to wink and gesture with their lithe hands.

"I love you too," Tom mouthed.

The path forked ahead. One winded through the endless recipients Tom saw from above, and the other thinned and ran straight to a grand palace.

It loomed before him, with gilded towers and battlements and a moat of floating sweets surrounding its jewel encrusted walls. He swallowed hard to contain his rising excitement and massaged some sense into his limbs. How did a commoner from another world like him address a Queen? He knew nothing of poise, of manners and court speech.

"I'll handle it," he reassured himself. "Like I did everything so far." The bunnies loved him, and the wolftaur liked him enough to give him his name. Nobody in the real world did that, unless there was money involved somehow.

They passed through archways, climbed an incline and entered the palace proper. Paths gave way to intricate carpets, and harsh light from infinite candles reflected upon the stained glass windows, each depicting a pastry of sorts. When the final set of doors opened before them, music and joyful chatter spilled through. Every face in the room turned to face him while they continued their chatter, stealing curt glances in between.

Tom dug a hand in his hair to ruffle it, arrange it, make it presentable. The closer they got to the cake shaped throne, the harder Tom's heart beat in his chest. He tried to focus on the intricate throne. Like his cake, it came out in several layers, each made of a different metal. The top was golden, the backrest silver. The seat slid forward to accommodate the queen, and it bore a rich copper, with an obsidian base furrowed with thin steps.

An orchestral assembly played various instruments behind it, made up various females, each resembling a different species or flaunting a different coat.

And they were all female!

From the giant bunny bakers to the Queen sat atop her throne and her various attendants. None wore more than just slim coverings, and a select few wore nothing at all to flaunt their buxom bodies. Apart from the bunnies, every female was his size, more or less.

The three bakers stopped to curtsy before the queen, who rose from her throne to take a step forward. Her golden sandals clattered upon the slim steps of the throne, and her fur lined cape swayed in unison with her firm steps. Her bunny ears poked through the crown, a cake hollow in the middle and layered with the same metals as her throne, and her cream colored fur emphasized her sparkling hazel eyes.

But Tom didn't linger on her eyes. He stared at her exposed breasts, mouth wide as he sucked in a gasp. His cock pulsated at the sight, so hard and broad he winced. Only a thin, almost translucent cloth covered her nether areas, and it slid dangerously close to the sides when her pace picked up.

"Is this the one?" she said, pointing at the cake.

"It took great strength, to make this cake," the ashen bunny began.

"The real treat's inside, awake," the caramel one added.

"Your sign awaits, the cake to break," the white bunny emphasized.

The queen smiled and flicked her wrist at him. "Arise, my treat."

Tom froze. He didn't know how!

Something lurched beneath him, and his knees bent as it moved and lifted him, through one layer at a time. He bit his lower lip as his stomach churned with worry, then put on his biggest, most earnest smile.

"I can do this," he said to himself. "Nothing will go wrong."

His words empowered him. They took away his doubt and replaced it with a surge of confidence, the same he felt moments before jumping into the cake.

His head poked through the chocolate layer, and the music came to an abrupt stopped as everyone gasped in unison.

Tom's jaw hung, and his hands moved to cover his exposed male parts.

Then, cheers erupted, wild and deafening. Everybody applauded, pointed, smiled and laughed while the Queen tilted her head and concealed her smile under a slender, glove covered arm.

"Who are you, my treat?"

"Tom of the morning cake, at your service." The words spilled out of his mouth, and his body seemed to move out of its own accord as he bowed.

A giggle pierced through the Queen's defense, and her lithe shoulders quaked under mirth's weight. Her court froze to stare at him while the orchestra resumed its suave tunes. A lioness draped her shawl tighter across her breasts, a raccoon thrust her head forward and feigned a kiss, and a cheetah ran behind the throne, two fingers tucked between her exposed thighs. The rest giggled, laughed and pointed, wiggling their hips and swishing their tails from side to side.

Tom's gaze returned to the Queen, and he bit down a gasp when he realized the three bunny bakers were gone.

"You speak boldly, Tom. You do not know the services my court requires." She regained her composure, although playfulness still danced within her hazel eyes.

"I helped the bakers, just as I will handle whatever you assign me, if it pleases your majesty," he said with a curt nod.

"Well groomed too." She grabbed her chin between two fingers as her gaze hovered towards his erect manhood. "Well shaped."

"Gifts of your kingdom's generosity."

"We are generous to those that deserve it, Tom." She took a step forward, another, then another, until her scent filled Tom's nostrils and stirred his blood. Vanilla, mixed with cinnamon and mint. "Not everyone does, and not everybody coped as well as you did."

Tom raised his eyebrows, and the queen waved a dismissive hand. "Forgive me. I've spoken out of turn, and my court is more than eager to meet you." She clapped her hands and retreated.

Tom didn't understand her meaning until the crowd of females rushed over to surround the cake. It stood taller than them; too tall for touching. The ones in the front still stretched their hands towards him, while the ones in the back cupped their breasts and presented themselves to him.

"This is--"

"Too much for you, tough guy?" A vixen spoke.

"He can handle himself," a jaguar said, flaunting her rosette stained bosom. "But can he handle this?"

The females around her cooed in unison and stepped away. Tom bit his tongue to stifle a gasp when the jaguar turned around and bent over in front of him, presenting her wet, narrow slit to him. She pressed a padded finger against her clit, and Tom moaned as his cock pulsated with want.

"You're too quick." The one who spoke stepped in front of her. A chestnut mare, wearing flowing, azure overalls. "Maybe he likes it one thing at a time." She got out a breast to fondle in front of him, and Tom's knees shook as release threatened to overtake him.

The crowd gasped and cheered at his bobbing cock. "Will he release his cream before he even inserts himself into one?" They chanted in unison.

"Not that soon, I hope."

Tom sighed when the Queen moved through the parting crowd. "My court likes you. But do you like them?"

"Yes," Tom rushed the words as his gaze darted from lion, to mare, to fox, to wolf, to skunk. "They're beautiful."

"Then I welcome you into my kingdom, Prince of the Cream," she said and raised her arms.

The court burst in cheerful applause, and the orchestra attuned a bawdy song, cheerful and fast paced.

"Slide. They have to bless you before I do."

Tom wiggled out of the cake, slid across it...

And yelped when the crowd engulfed him. A river of females washed over him, clambering on the cake's pedestal and reaching at him with groping fingers. One of them, a lioness, grabbed his cock, and squeezed it between her smooth pads.

"It's so hard." Tom bit his lower lip as she stroke him once. "So big. How many ladies have you pleased?"

"None," Tom blurted out. "I didn't have the chance."

"A shame," she said and leaned in to lick the mixture of caramel, chocolate and cream spread across his chest. "You taste good and smell even better."

"Thanks," Tom said. He stared at her leonine breasts, blinking hard and fast. He wanted to touch them, touch her so bad.

That's when the lioness gripped his hands. She forced one onto a naked breast and directed two of his fingers inside her tight, feline slit. She half purred, half growled as Tom wiggled his fingers inside her. So moist and smooth!

The lioness winked. "Come, ladies. He doesn't bite," she said with half a voice.

Tom barely had the time to swallow and fight back his building climax.

A group of females rushed to meet him, the first being a wolf. She ran her claws across his chest, growling and licking her elongated muzzle. "I haven't seen your like around," she said and nibbled on his cake coated arm.

"I'm not from here," Tom barely managed through a huff.

"From where?" a lynx asked, her paws all over his shoulder. She pressed her chest against him, coating her tits with cream.

"A dark, sour land."

"A shame," a lithe tigress observed. She thrust her muzzle into his hair as her breasts filled his face. "But also a blessing. The joy you'll find here is unlimited."

"Limited by your imagination only," a corgi chipped in. She licked his thighs, just above his throbbing member. A smile crept along her muzzle before her tongue caught his tip. Tom winced, much to their mirth.

He smiled, laughed, caressed and fondled the buxom bodies that assaulted him from all sides. Fur, pads and tongues alike slid along every part of his body, lingering to grope at a muscle or stroke his throbbing cock. Tom clenched his teeth whenever that happened, eliciting a growl from the daring females.

And it didn't stop at that. They licked his body clean, yet coated his fingers in dribbling arousal from all the fingering. In less than a minute, Tom fingered more pussies and squeezed more breasts than any man ever.

He chanced the Queen a brief glance. She sat a fair distance away from the action, head held high, a broad smile upon her lips.

"We love him," the court declared at the same time, and retreated like a tide. They assembled in groups once again, chattering and glancing at him more often than Tom could keep count.

"My blessing will seem overly simplistic compared to theirs," the Queen said.

Tom panted. Pre slithered from his engorged tip, along his shaft and dribbling from his balls. His legs felt as stiff as his erection. Instead of walking, he wobbled up to the queen.

He knelt in front of her, welcoming the moment of respite. She placed her hand upon his brow, spoke faint, foreign words. Then she said, "Arise, my prince."

Tom did as requested, despite his painfully hard erection. The Queen's fur lined cape was pinned just above her breasts. They filled his vision, ripe as melons.

"Are my shapes pleasing?" She inquired, and lowered her head to fixate her hazel eyes on him.

"Very," Tom said. He blinked, licked his lips, and nodded several times. "You are fair as you are powerful."

She smiled and wrapped a delicate arm around his broad shoulders. "Ah, power. We don't have that here, for we have no need for it."

Tom gulped hard when the Queen took a step forward, dragging him with her. "But you are the Queen."

"And you are a prince."

"Only because--"

He stopped when her fingers sealed his lips. "Shh. Don't question that which you already know the answer to. Just enjoy. Be happy. That's all I want."

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but only a curt sigh left him.

"Still troubled?"

He nodded. "In my world, nothing's for free. To receive such elevated status..." he turned his head to face her. "You're too kind, my queen."

"So are you." She craned her head, lightning fast, to plant a warm kiss upon his cheek. "You ended the milk drought, helped bake the morning cake, and brought joy to my court." She drew back, until her eyes bore into his. "It's only fit that you share in the same joy."

Tom's cheeks seethed. He dabbed a finger at the spot the queen kissed, and grinned. "I did as it seemed fit. Everybody in my situation would have done the same."

She shook her head, and her ears lowered as a furrow appeared on her petite brow. "They seldom do. Your world stopped believing Tom, and without external aid to summon Feathers, we can't have milk."

Tom moved in front of her and knelt for the second time. "On my word as the Prince of the Cream, I vow that the milk drought will never occur again."

The Queen beamed, then gripped his shoulders tight, slammed him against the side of the throne and filled his lips with her fleshy ones. Tom's breath caught in his throat. He fell stiff, unable to move, to open his mouth and let her tongue in. How did one kiss anyway?!

One of the Queen's hands slid across his neck while the other found his rock hard cock. She gripped it, so hard and fast Tom gasped. That's when her tongue twined with his.

Tom melted into her embrace as she shared in the passionate kiss. The orchestra's music became a buzz, and the court's chatter vanished from his ears during that one brief moment when he kissed a Queen. She drew back to nip at his lips, chuckling softly.

"I wanted to do that since you emerged."

"Me too," Tom confessed, his breath ragged. His temples pounded, and his heart threatened to burst in his chest.

"Halt!" A shrilling voice filled the throne room.

Tom whirled on his heels, tucked the Queen behind him and raised his fists in the direction of the sound. A leopardess emerged from the crowd, with voluptuous shapes covered by cream pie plates. Two on her breasts, one between her thighs, two to conceal her well sculpted rump. The cream didn't even flinch as she strode towards the dais where the orchestra stood, shaped in the form of a whipped cream pie.

"First you charm our Queen with sweet words, then steal a kiss from her, in front of the whole court?" She clambered on top of it, flicked a dismissive hand at them. The females fled the stage in a storm of laughter and swishing tails, leaving their chairs and instruments behind. The leopardess slapped her hands together, then moved them to the sides. Everything vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving the stage clear.

"I challenge your worthiness, my prince." She hissed the last part and glared at him.

The queen rested a hand atop his shoulder. "You don't have to deal with her unless--"

Tom twisted his neck to kiss her and put a stop to her words, just as she did to him. The court roared with cheers, yet Tom could still hear the leopardess' growl over it, rumbling like a gathering storm. He put an end to the kiss and faced her.

"Challenge accepted." He strolled towards the dais, one uncertain step at a time. "You will wish you got better coverings as I expose you, one cream pie after another."

"Words," she growled. "What will you back them up with, Prince of the Cream?"

Her light green eyes bore into his, her ebony slits narrow and her short muzzle twitching with the urge to snarl. Intricate rosettes covered her thin fur from head to toes and to the white tipped tail. She flicked it with irritation every time he took a step in her direction.

"My combat expertise, my charm." Tom clambered on top of the dais, wincing as his erection throbbed with renewed vigor once he stood in front of her. "My intuition. Those whipped cream pies do seem quite uncomfortable."

He grinned, and the leopardess hissed, exposing her glittering fangs as she lunged towards him. Tom gasped at her sheer agility and sidestepped her lashing claws. Wait, claws?!

"I don't think that's--" he paused to whirl away from an overhead swing, then pivoted and reached towards one of the cream pies covering a supple tit. He ripped it off her and hurled it at her face in one fluid motion.

A thin growl erupted from her throat. She threw the pie aside, dashed her meaty tongue across her muzzle to lick away the cream, and glared at him with narrow eyes.

"Actually, use everything you have. None of your claws is going to scratch me," Tom said, his voice laden with confidence. Overwhelming strength surged through his taut muscles. His heart pounded in a calm, steady rhythm, and he flexed his fingers in anticipation for her next strike. Somehow, his body knew how to react and defend itself. All he had to do was follow his instinct.

She hurled herself at him in a flurry of paw strikes, tail lashes and roundhouse kicks. Tom caught her tail against his arm, ducked under her sweeping paws and touched her exposed tit briefly before he jumped back, away from her kick. She snarled, and Tom snickered. So warm, so round, with a budding, pink nipple poking through her fur.

"That's highly inappropriate!" She howled, her eyes fixed on his tight, throbbing member.

"So is clawing me to death." Tom shifted onto his toes for a quick jump in case she struck. "We both use the means we have at our disposal. You have your claws, I have the element of surprise."

His erection surprised him as much as it surprised her. She stared at it, long and hard, her tail swishing from side to side. Then, she pounced him.

Tom yelped, jumped to the side and rolled out of harm's way. As soon as he recovered his footing, he swayed back and forth under the terse swings of her paws, slower than before. His balls slapped against his thighs with broad, irritating swings, and his bobbing erection made him grit his teeth in frustration. Her claws caught his arm, drawing thin, crimson gashes across his bulging muscles.

"Mrowl, you grow slower."

Tom hurled herself at her. The leopardess' eyes grew wide as berries at the unexpected attack as she drew back.

Not far enough.

Tom grabbed the second pie, spun on his heels and tossed it at her bare torso with the momentum. It splattered against her fur in an ocean of dough and cream. The leopardess yowled, staggered, and fell onto her fours from the blunt force of the impact.

Tom took a step forward. She was down. He had the upper hand. He could end it all, here and now! Yet a perverse sense of honor froze him in his tracks.

"You made a mess of yourself, proud warrior," he said as she scrambled onto her feet. Only her nipples stood out in the vast, white expanse, two tiny pink islands. Tom's member pulsated at the glorious sight. He wanted to lunge at her, knock her on her back, and thrust inside her, hard and fast until he filled her with his inner fire.

"It's not over," she said through panting breaths. "Don't be so smug, my prince. I may yet end you."

Tom smiled. "There is only one way this is going to end. With you pinned beneath me."

The court burst into a wild cacophony of cheers, laughter, shouts and encouragements. The leopardess snarled at them and ran her hands through her coat to remove the bothersome cream. Once done, she sucked on a cream filled finger, growling at Tom. The rumbling sound reverberated within his chest, sent shudders down his spine and throbs across his stiff length.

She charged him, too fast and too clumsy. Tom lowered himself to one knee and thrust his shoulder forward against the impending impact. The leopardess tried to whirl around him by digging the claws of her feet into the hard dough of the pie beneath them, but she was too slow. Tom pushed at the ground with all his might and lunged at her.

They crashed in a heap of flailing limbs, flexing paws and whipping tail. The leopardess thrust her muzzle forward to bite his face, but Tom pulled back a tantalizing inch away from her. He gripped her wrists with one hand and used his other to remove the pie covering her nether regions.

"And this is how--"

"You lose!"

She squeezed her thighs tight against his and swung to the side so that she emerged on top of him.

Tom's breath caught in his throat as her muzzle darted towards him, her lips stretched back to reveal her glistening canines. He tilted his head to the side to avoid the death blow, reached towards her bottom, and tore the remaining set of pies off her. She roared at that--a harsh, guttural sound that sent ripples through Tom's frame. He gripped her sides, so hard her roar became a moan, and hurled her on her back. He pinned her arms above her twitching ears, wrapped his legs around her and inched towards her muzzle, so close her whiskers tickled his cheek.

"Nobody loses," she whispered in her nose.

She blinked as his hot breath washed upon her, and the wrinkles dissipated from her shuddering lips. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a guest in your kingdom, and my father taught me to treat everyone with the same hospitality they treat me." He released her arms and stood upright. "If you think I did wrong by the Queen, say it and I'll forfeit the duel."

The crowd fell silent, and the Queen's mellow gasp filled Tom's ears. However much he wanted to win and take his prize, his father's nagging advice at the back of his head didn't allow it.

I did it, Pa, he thought as he smiled. Just like you taught me.

The leopard's features softened, and the clutch of her thighs against his vanished as her legs spread in opposite ways.

"You truly are the Prince of the Cream," she said, the darted her muzzle forward for the most unexpected and amazing kiss ever.

Earsplitting cheers exploded from everywhere around Tom as the leopardess' tongue filled his mouth. He did his best to kiss her back, moaning at the soft taste of cream upon her breath. Everyone laughed, and applauded, shrieked and howled with overwhelming joy. Yet the sounds muffled within Tom's ears over the pounding of his temples and the tightness within his loins. His eyes only saw the leopardess, drenched in cream and pie bits. His hands felt the softness of her fur, the curves of her body, the rigidness of her breasts.

A purr replaced her soft growl, deep and powerful, as she drew back to plant a wet lick against his beet red cheeks. She latched her legs onto his back and pushed, urging his loins towards her wiggling hips. Tom swallowed hard at the sight of her velvety lips poking through the cream covered fur, and his member pulsated with want. She giggled at that, winked and licked her nose in anticipation. Tom closed his eyes, pushed forward...

And moaned as he sank into her wet, sweltering depths.

Her hiss was even louder than his. The leopardess' padded toes curled around Tom's bare heels. Her muscles clamped down upon his tightness, trapping him for a brief moment before he slid balls deep into her with a faint squelch.

"Gah," he gasped. She was so tight, so moist, and her muscles rippled all around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip to contain his release. Fire already welled within his loins, and his cock throbbed with renewed vigor within her silken sheath.

The leopardess didn't fare any better. She kneaded at the floor with her fingers, her eyes half closed. She breathed hard and fast through her flared nostrils, and licked her muzzle far too often.

"I've never--I don't know how--I want to please you but..."

She growled, grabbed his hands, placed them upon her breasts and squeezed his wrists encouragingly. Tom's fingers did the rest. He wrapped them around her heavenly mounds, stroked them once before rounding her nipples.

The court burst with cheers and applause. Tom's hands froze on her breasts as he whirled his head to take it all in. Every female had her covers down and wiggled their breasts at him, winking and blowing him kisses. The lioness smiled at him and thrust her fingers deeper into her pussy before pulling back moist, glistening fingers.

Tom's breath picked up. Blood surged through him like a tide, stiffening his muscles and turning his cock rock hard within the leopardess. She whined when he pulled back, groped at his swollen tip before Tom left her shivering lips.

"You can do it!" Someone yelled.

"Take her!" Another high pitched voice joined in.

"Get back inside her and give her a good time!" A shout burst from the crowd.

"She wants it, and so do you," a regal voice said. Tom turned towards the Queen. She leaned against the throne, fingering an exposed nipple and smiling at him.

Tom nodded, and turned back to the leopardess.

"You heard them," she whispered. "Now prove yourself."

"Gladly," Tom said, and thrust inside her, hard and deep. The court yowled in unison with her drawn-out moan. Emboldened by their cry, Tom gripped her breasts, squeezed them until she drew her head back with a cry, and fucked her with terse, quick strokes.

Her tail stiffened from the sheer intensity of the pounding, and her tongue lolled to the side as Tom ploughed her dainty furrow with his thick, muscular cock. For every stroke, he caressed her breasts and fondled her nipples between two fingers. Her purr flared to a deep growl under the intensity of the treatment, and Tom chuckled faintly.

She was getting close. Her toes squeezed tighter at his heels, claws poked out of her fingers to rake at the pie shaped dais, and her eyes clouded from the overwhelming stimulation. For every thrust, she let out a thin yelp along with a curt squeeze around is member. Tom clenched his teeth, biting back his own release from her thorough massage. Every part of her silken tunnel nudged and caressed his throbbing length with tantalizing strokes, urging him to sink deep inside her and let go.

Not before she did.

Tom's hands shifted towards her stiff butt. He gripped her hard enough to make her yowl, then lifted her hips until he pounded her deeper and broader. Translucent arousal already dribbled down her swollen lips and onto his shaft and balls. Tom gasped at the glorious sight, and his member lurched inside her.

He thrust, faster and faster, until her hips bucked and her eyes snapped open. A muffled growl left her throat as she arched her back, spurt after spurt of climax leaving her shivering depths. Tom stopped for a brief moment, lost in the thick fragrance filling his nostrils and the female cum splashing against his loins.

Then, her insides clamped down upon him, so hard she flared his impending climax. Tom held his breath as he fucked her well lubricated hole, harder and faster than ever. His cock practically swam through her slick walls, and she was so hot, and so tight, and so...

Tom sank balls deep inside her and roared his release for all the court to hear. His knees buckled, and his arms shook as fiery spurt after fiery spurt left his swollen tip and splattered against the leopardess' walls. She mewled, growled, hissed and licked at his neck while her muscles milked every droplet of seed out of his still throbbing member.

He crashed into her embrace, his eyebrows suddenly heavy while he tapered off inside her.

"You did good," she whispered in his hear. "You did great."

Tom nodded, and gave in to the overwhelming tiredness that washed over him.

He woke up with a groan, squinted at the dapples of light creeping through the broad windows. Everything felt stiff and sore, especially his arm, where the leopardess raked him. Tom rubbed it through his silken pajamas, yet the pain didn't subside. He blinked back the morning haze from his eyes, rolled onto his bottom, and took a deep breath.

Everything came back to him: The vat of cake he fell into, the three bunny bakers, the queen and her court, the leopardess he...he...

"It was just a silly dream," he mumbled as he trudged to the edge of the bed and fumbled for his slippers. Once on his feet, he froze. Something felt wet and slippery within his underwear, and Tom didn't need to check to know what it was. His cheeks turned beet red, and his numb senses flared to life.

He came in his sleep!

Tom shuffled to the chest of drawers, pulled out a fresh pair of underwear, and gasped when a knock came on the door.

"Tom, you up?" Ebony's voice followed.

"Yes," he said, then bit his lip at his stupidity. Why on earth did he do that?!

"Good morning, sunshine. Do you need some time? Otherwise I'll be at the door."

"No," he blurted out, and the doorknob rocked. "Yes! Don't enter; I'm in the middle of something. Just a minute."

"Take your time sweetie."

He had anything but time due to his poor choice of words. First, he stripped, wiped the remnants of seed with several tissues, and strapped on a new pair of underwear before he slipped into his pajamas. Then, he kicked the soiled pair of underwear under the bed. He'd figure it out later. He'd figure out everything later.

Tom strode towards the door, put on his best smile--like in the dream--and opened it. "Good morning Ebony. Where's the bathroom?"

Her smile became a grin. "Uhm, it's right here. Follow me."

"Thanks."

"You are...welcome?" She turned her head towards him and giggled softly. "That's quite a blush inducing smile, you know."

Tom straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. "Does it work on you?"

"Can you tell?"

Tom picked up his pace to join her side. "You are blushing!"

"Thanks to you!" She punched Tom's arm softly, and he chuckled. "I thought you were a quiet one."

"I'm a lot of things," Tom said and turned towards the bathroom when she pointed it out. "You just need to figure me out."

He shut the door the moment she winked at him and released his pent-up breath. Was that really him, making girls blush and walking with a prince's poise?

He shrugged, then jumped into the shower. The hot water reminded him of the leopardess' embrace, of the milk he swam through while singing. He spread the shower gel across his tight arms, down his muscular abs and onto his thighs. His hand stopped on his flaccid shaft.

"Here's one for you, Tom," he said to himself. "If you fucked a girl in a dream, does it mean you can do it in the real world?"

He pondered upon the question for a moment before he began singing. "I'm in the milk and the milk's in me. God bless the milk and God bless me." Then, he sang the baker bunnies song, and the court's, and everything else with surprising accuracy.

Once he stepped out of the shower, his jaw hung as he lifted his gaze towards the mirror.

Another Tom stared back at him, slightly muscular and with more defined shapes. His arms were not exactly thick, yet pumped enough, like after a workout, and bones no longer protruded from his chest. Muscles covered them, along with more developed pecks.

"Freaky," he said, and wiped, and dressed.

"You were fast, Ebony observed.

"Really? I kinda took my time."

"Were you singing?"

Tom held his breath in order to maintain his composure. "Yes. Yes I was. Some nonsense to pass the time."

Her eyes twinkled as she set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You have a beautiful voice! God, you don't wanna hear me."

"I do, whenever you are comfortable with it."

"I'm--that's kind of you to say." She shuffled her hands and threw him a curt glance. "Thank you."

"It's alright," Tom blurted out.

They spoke no more until they descended the stairway to the first floor. Ebony pointed towards the end of the corridor they entered.

"At the very end. Oh, and knock first."

"Aren't you joining us?"

She shook her head reluctantly. "Maybe some other day. Got duties to attend."

"I'll keep you to that."

"Roger, cutie," she said as she made a weird gesture with her hand. Tom smiled nevertheless, and watched her departing form until she took a turn. "Keep it up, tough guy!" her voice came, and Tom stifled a chuckle. How could he have treated her so poorly yesterday? He wanted to punch himself for it!

"Breakfast first," he whispered under his breath, and strolled into the room.

Unlike the one where they dined, this one was bigger and broader, with wide windows and lots and lots of tributes to pastry. Paintings, sculptures, even multicolored tiles arranged in the most amazing of patterns to form all manner of delicious deserts.

"They all have a history," Tilley said from the table at the end of the room and raised her teacup. "Watch your step. Some may surprise you."

Tom nodded and wound around pedestals, an oblong table filled with wooden sculptures of pies, a cake fountain in the middle of the room. They all oozed the specific scent of their likeness, rich and untarnished by time.

"That's..." Tom paused to catch his breath. "This is amazing."

"Must be, if you say it is," Tilley said and trudged her chair closer to him once he sat at the table. "Tell me, what do you want to eat?"

"Not cake," he said as the huge layered thing from his dream came to mind. "I'll have the croissants."

"Pah," Tilley grumbled. "Met no teen who doesn't love cake."

"Oh, I do love it," Tom said as he dipped a croissant into a bowl of strawberry jam. "Just not in excess."

Tilley raised her thick eyebrows at that. "You barely ate some last night! What you babbling about?"

Last night.

The mentioning alone made Tom's cheeks sear a deep red. "Uhm, yea I, that's still more than I usually eat."

"Ah." Tilley sipped her tea, grabbed the teapot and lifted it.

"Yes please." He pushed his cup in her direction and averted his eyes from her inquisitive gaze.

"Aren't you going to ask if I bought this pre-heated tea?"

Tom shook his head and munched on his vanilla cream filled croissant. "Yesterday was a slip. A lapse in my judgment. It won't happen again, aunt."

"Hah!" She chuckled and slammed her cup against the table. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. Even if you fool me. I'd rather be fooled than see you sour, m'dear boy."

Tom met her eyes. "I'm not fooling you, nor playing you. I mean it, aunt. I overreacted and said things I shouldn't have."

"It's these, right?" She grabbed a croissant and shook it. "Their sweetness becomes you."

Tom nodded with broad swings of his head. "YES! They're absolutely delicious."

Tilley tilted her head, laughed her squeaky laughter, and leaned her head against her palm. "They don't turn you into a tomato, though. I can probably fry eggs on those ruddy cheeks!"

Tom coughed to prevent choking on his morsel. "It's something I remembered."

"Oh dear," Tilley whined. "I should've worn a better gown."

"It's not--it's really--it's quite harmless," Tom barely managed through his fit of laughter. "I had this weird dream."

"Well tell me!" She filled a glass with orange juice and proffered it. "I love dreams. They're the fabric of the universe. Did you know that some beings can imagine themselves into existence?"

Tom reached towards the glass, but she pulled it back. "That's how worlds were created. Fantastic worlds which defy every rule we've set in place."

He went for an empty glass instead, but Tilley slapped his wrist and raised her already filled glass. "Think about it. Every time we dream, we fall into another world and are given a quest. It seems stupid at first, but for that world, it means everything."

"Huh," Tom said. He stopped chasing the glass, his thirst all but forgotten over the thumps in his chest. "That's a very interesting theory." He scrunched his eyes shut as his head almost spun with the weight of overly vivid memories. Even the brief flash of a bosom, or the leopardess' snarly smile, were enough to stir his dormant member.

"I will tell you more if you indulge my curiosity." She handled him the glass, and Tom grabbed it.

What was the worst it could happen? It was just means to climb to her heart and make up for what happened yesterday.

"Well, it must have been something you said last night, because I dreamt of falling head first into a Night Kitchen." He paused to take a sip and wet his parched throat.

"Go on," Tilley said and propped her chin against a bridge formed by her twined fingers.

"I fell into a cake, some bunnies required my help, some stuff happened, the end." He took another swig and swished it through his mouth.

"Ah, milk delivery."

Tom spat it across the table, least he choked on it. His eyes grew wide as dinner plates, and his jaw hung when he met Tilley's blank expression.

"What? That's the least you could've done after being a brat. Not like you went unrewarded!"

He tried to speak, to scream, to do something. His stiff body refused to obey, and only a moan escaped his wide open mouth.

Tilley sipped her tea, munched on a grand biscuit and favored him a curt smile. "Now that pleasantries are out the way, can I say my part please?"

Tom merely blinked, and she raised a hand.

"Don't interrupt me, though. When you're my age, you forget things."

Not like he could. He stood there, stunned, as he listened to Aunt Tilley describe how the Night Kitchen was actually real.