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Cool Cat Starts the Grool Shooting

“Boy, am I tired!” Cool Cat exclaimed to no one in particular.

He stared out from the window of his studio apartment as rain fell on the grimy streets outside, washing cigarette butts and shimmering oil slicks down into the storm drain. Suddenly, the anemic street light sputtered out as it often did, and all Cool Cat could see was his face reflected back at him. It was a face he almost couldn't recognize. The signature wide eyes and smile were intact, but streaks of gray staked their claim on his fuzzy chin. His agent urged him to comb Garfield-Orange Just for Cats into it if he wanted to get work again, but no matter how many bottles of the stuff he'd gone through it never fully took. The ravages of time spared no one.

“It’s not fair! I'm still a friend to everyone! I'm not a bully! So why won't anyone just talk to me?” Cool Cat complained, looking down at the cracked screen of his smartphone.

It had been days since he'd spoken to anyone but the vacant, cobweb covered walls of his meager dwelling. Ever the extrovert, his heart yearned for human contact. He'd chat with anyone, about anything. Wrasling, baseball, branches of the military–anything at all. But as Cool Cat thumbed through his miniscule contact list, he couldn't help but sigh. Maybe today would be the day his old bully-stopping friend would pick up. His furry thumb tapped the screen

–Meanwhile, at Erik Estrada's palatial estate–

“There he is…again,” Erik mumbled, glancing down at his illuminated phone screen as the CHIPS theme ringtone played. His silk bathrobe slid down his arm as he reached toward it.

“Come to bed, stud,” said the buxom Swedish supermodel lounging in Erik's emporer-sized bed. The 500,000 thread count sheets accentuated the sublime curves of her body.

“In a second, mi amor,” Erik called, tapping the block button.

—Back in the Cool Cat Clubhouse—

“Not tonight. Darn it!” Cool Cat shouted as the call dropped. “Now…who should I try next?”

His finger hovered over “Daddy Derek”, but he didn't dare press it. He knew better than to even try.

The Derek Savage's 2025 420 Awards had gone so viral that YouTube lost five server racks to overheating. The billions of viewers had catapulted Derek’s career to dizzying heights, and it wasn't long before he became known as the “Hollywood Kingmaker”. Every actor that received one of the iconic pot-leaf trophies went on to be cast in career-defining performances in films that would become timeless classics. Every movie he christened with an award was re-released into theaters, where it made double its original box office take without fail. He bought the WWE and ushered it into a second Attitude Era before financing a cannabinoid-based cure for every documented coronavirus. Right now he was in talks with America's top scientists to revive Eddie Van Halen’s cryogenically frozen body so that he might return and save rock and roll. There was no way he was going to be able to say more than a few words before getting back to work. Derek paid Cool Cat's rent and kept him fed. The man always had money to spare, but never time.

But who else was there? Cool Cat scrolled down beneath Daddy Derek's entry, and his finger trembled in the screen’s baleful glow. How long had it been since he'd called this number? He didn't even remember how it had come to be in his possession.

Dirty Dog.

_ That mean old bully!_ Cool Cat thought to himself in a way that was somehow externally audible. Why would I want to talk to that dang jerk!?

Again, the question came: Who else was there? Who else could cut through the grim silence of his dismal living space? Right now…there wasn't a single soul except that sneaker-wearing canine creep.

Cool Cat tapped the screen. The phone began to ring.

“I should hang up!” the miserable feline complained. “What am I doing!?”

With each ring, his trepidation grew. His thumb trembled above the red icon that would disconnect the call. Then, halfway through the digital warble of the ring tone, a click cut it off.

“Cool Cat!? What the heck are you doing calling me!?” the familiar grizzled voice asked.

“Boy, I honestly don't know!” the cat replied, bracing himself against a wall. “I guess I just…wanted to talk! It's been soooo long!”

“Yeah, I guess it has. Not since you found a way to stop me from spreading COVID 3000 at that playground!” Dirty Dog growled. “But why are you calling me!? You don't have anyone else to talk to!?”

“No.”

Both cat and dog were stunned into silence by the admission.

“Geez,” Dirty Dog sighed. “You know…the truth is…neither have I. My career took a big hit after I said ‘fuck’ at the 5th annual 420 awards. I'm a kid's show character, for God's sake. Or…I was. After that, I apologized, but it was never the same.”

“I know, I know,” Cool Cat replied. “The whole show went downhill without you! Guess there's no Cool Cat without a Dirty Dog to bounce off of, huh?”

“Wow…” Dirty Dog muttered. “That's…It's really crazy to hear you say that. Do you mean it?”

“Well, sure!” the feline crowed. “We barely lasted two seasons once your character got blown up by that privately owned fighter jet. I needed you! Maybe…I…still do.”

Silence. Then a gentle exhalation.

“Do you…want me to come over?” Dirty Dog asked.

“You know, Dog…I think I do.”

—

The front door of Cool Cat's crib swung open. Standing in the doorway was Dirty Dog, clad as always in an iconic green T-shirt and cargo shorts.

“Damn, boy, you live like this!?” the dog asked, holding out a box of Steel Reserve fresh from the bodega downstairs.

“Yeah,” Cool Cat mumbled dejectedly, taking the beer to the fridge and cramming it in next to the towers of takeout boxes. He pulled out two cans and cracked one open before handing the other to his guest.

“Honestly, the old dog house ain't much different,” Dirty Dog admitted, settling into the lumpy couch covered in a layer of orange fur. “So that part about needing me…for the show, I mean. Was that true?”

“Absolutely!” Cool Cat cried, taking a seat next to his former nemesis. “What good is Batman without his Joker? Or The Rock without Steve Austin? No good at all, I'd say!”

Dirty Dog took a gulp of beer, as if steeling themselves for something. “Hey, Cat. They ever tell you why they wrote me out of the show? The real reason?”

“It wasn't the F-bomb?”

“No, but that sure as hell didn't help,” Dirty Dog said. “The real reason was…they found out my secret. This Dirty Dog is a Dirty Bitch.”

“WHAT!?” Cool Cat shouted, turning so hard in his seat that his beer splashed over his hand and onto the filthy couch.

“I guess it must have been my deep voice and my baggy shirt that confused Derek all those years ago,” Dirty Dog reminisced, swishing the beer around in her half-finished can. “After my audition, it was ‘he’ this and ‘him’ that. It made me sad at first, but when I saw the first paycheck I felt a whole lot better. All the fortune and fame that came with being a straight-to-video kid's show character was so intoxicating that I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Then there was the episode where I got knocked out when Undertaker choke-slammed me. Remember that?”

“Yeah!” Cool Cat exclaimed. “That was really scary!”

“For sure. The on-set EMT’s started examining me, and they saw my chest binding. So did Derek. But I guess now I don't have to do that anymore. My girls can breathe, such as they are. Silver linings and all that crap.”

“Wow! That explains so much!” Cool Cat shouted, thrusting his arms in the air and spilling more of the watery booze over his furniture. “Err…I mean…”

“What!?” the dog barked. “Out with it!”

“Well, the way I felt when I looked at you on set!” Cool Cat confessed, heat burning beneath the floofy fur on his cheeks. “There was just something about you that made me feel all mushy inside! I was so confused! But the shape of your body, the gentle nature hidden deep in your eyes, your smell–except during the fart scenes…it was all I could think about. I wanted to reach out and touch you! But I was just too afraid! I was SCARED!”

The last word trailed away into silence. Dirty Dog reached out a fuzzy hand and placed it on Cool Cat's beer-sticky paw.

“Are you scared now?” she asked.

“No,” Cool Cat replied, flipping his hand over until their palms touched. “This feels right!”

“Let's see how this feels,” Dirty Dog whispered huskily, pressing her muzzle into the cat's ever-smiling maw.

To say that Cool Cat was a novice kisser was an understatement. For all the friends he'd made over the years, his list of lovers was far shorter. But when Dirty Dog's kibble-scented tongue passed between his lips, he knew just what to do. Primal urgency sent his beer tumbling to the floor as he cradled the back of the canine’s fuzzy head with his left hand. With his right, he began stroking up her body, sliding beneath the iconic Dirty Dog shirt. He stopped just as his hand reached the softness of her breast.

“Is this okay?” Cool Cat asked, staring deeply into the dog's glaring eyes.

“How's this for an answer, you stupid cat!?” she replied, yanking off her iconic shirt and tossing it aside.

“Holy Moly!” Cool Cat marveled, staring openly at Dirty Dog's small but perky breasts.

“Ha! You like ‘em? Wish they were bigger, honestly.”

“No way! Everyone's body is special!” Cool Cat assured her. “And Daddy Derek always said, ‘More than a handful is a waste!’”

“Please stop talking about that asshole and suck my tits,” Dirty Dog groaned, pulling Cat's bewildered mug to her chest.

Sucking was Cool Cat's specialty. His lips plucked at a nipple, stretching it slightly before letting it pop free. Dirty Dog gasped and huffed as her arch-enemy lavished her tits with hard, warm, wet kisses.

“This is amazing!” CC proclaimed, pulling away from the dog’s throbbing bossom. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

Dirty Dog stood up and shucked off her iconic cargo shorts, taking the panties along with it. It wasn't the first vulva Cool Cat had laid eyes on. There had been groupies back in the day, and that one time Daddy Derek had bought him a hooker after shooting wrapped on Cool Cat Goes to Circus Circus Hotel and Casino. Nothing, however, compared to this. It was beautiful because it belonged to Dirty Dog.

“Lay back on the couch, you dumb cat. I'm about to show you how well Dirty Dog knows how to sit and stay.”

“Oh boy!” Cool Cat panted as he flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I don't know what you meant by that, but–GYAH!”

The meager light of his tableside lamp was blotted out by the expanse of Dirty Dog's ass as she threw one thigh over the cat's face. All of the canine's intimate parts were laid out before him. Before he could utter the question on his mind, those parts descended onto his muzzle.

“Mmph!” he exclaimed as the soft flesh and feminine scent dominated his senses.

Once more, Cool Cat did what he did best. He sucked. And, in addition to that, he found that he couldn't resist licking. Pressing her labia between his feline lips, the cat slurped at both before allowing them to jiggle back into place. His rough feline tongue sliced into Dirty Dog's cleft, transmitting salty sensations to his fevered brain. Towards the top of her sex, his tongue passed over a hardened nub of flesh. He knew what it was (thanks to Daddy Derek's unsolicited advice in Vegas), but he hadn't been able to find it until now. Cool!

“Ah! You're not as clueless as you look, Cat!” Dirty Dog moaned, grinding her hips down and around. “Now, I don't think I should be the one having all the fun!”

Leaning forward (granting her partner’s tongue even more access), Dirty Dog yanked down the cat's shorts. Cool Cat's cock bounced up to greet the amorous canine. It was a perfectly respectable length, with a large head that would be perfect for prying her open and making her squirm. The villain marveled as she wrapped one fuzzy hand around the shaft.

_ I can't freakin’ believe it!_ Dirty Dog thought I've actually got that do-gooder’s dick throbbing in my hand. While he eats me out, no less! Derek'd blow a gasket!

Leaning forward a little more, Dirty Dog swiped her slippery tongue across the tip of Cool Cat’s boner, making it jolt in her grip. “Now I know what you taste like, kitty! Let’s see what kinda sounds you can make!”

Her hips lifted off of Cool Cat’s drenched muzzle as she plunged her mouth down over his shaft, taking him inside with ease. His flesh was silky smooth and rock hard–primed and ready to fulfil its purpose. But that would have to wait. For now, she wanted to make that darn cat squirm.

“Ah! Wow! That feels great!” Cool Cat exclaimed.

Dirty Dog sighed around his penis. Geez! Even when he’s getting his dick sucked he sounds like a dweeb. I’m not stopping until I hear this idiot swear! she thought as she relentlessly pistoned her mouth over his length. Incredibly lewd slurps and gurgles emerged from her maw as she devoured the cat like a bowl of Purina.

“Aw shucks! Golly! You’re amazing!” the cat moaned, his breath washing over the dog’s glistening folds. He reached up with both paws to fondle and spread her, as if she were some kind of science class exhibit. And she didn’t mind his initiative one bit.

“Stupid cat! Take this!” Dirty Dog growled before collaring the tip of his cock with her thumb and index finger. Her tongue relentlessly swiped and slapped against the sensitive head, forcing merciless ethics-melting pleasure on her partner.

“Oh…oh man!” Cool Cat squawked as his weak point was targeted for massive damage. “I don’t know if I can go on…I…I’m gonna shoot! FUCK!”

As soon as the vulgar utterance left his lips, Dirty Dog tightened her fist around the cat’s ready-for-liftoff rocket–instantly stopping the surging orgasm in its tracks. Cool Cat groaned in agony as his release was unexpectedly and cruelly denied.

“W-What did you do that for?” Cool Cat sobbed, his arms falling limp against his sides.

“I’m a bully, cat! It’s what I do!” Dirty Dog jeered over her shoulder. Clumsily, she shifted her hips forward until the junction of her thighs was over Cool Cat’s angrily throbbing meat. Her hands pulled her cheeks apart, allowing the cat an unrestricted view of her flesh. “But I’ll make it up to you. Choose where you’re gonna stick that thing. Either hole’s good with me.”

“Well…” Cool Cat mused, his eyes locked on the entrancing sight of a female fully presenting herself to him, “I don’t want to put it in your butt! That seems like it would hurt, and that’s not what butts are for!”

“Oh, you idiot,” the dog sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got a lot to teach you. But since you asked for it, why not?”

Cool Cat gazed in wonder as his oldest enemy flipped his penis upright and let it kiss against the sloppy lips of her pussy before lowering her hips and devouring his maleness. Passing through her tight entrance, warm silky flesh parted around his tip as it delved deeper. Finally, the warm globes of Dirty Dog’s ass came to a rest against his lap.

“Woof! For being such a nerd, you’ve got a pretty nice cock! It’s already got me twitchin’ a little!” she moaned, shifting her hips experimentally to feel him drag against her interior.

“Wow! It’s like a toothless dog chewing on a bone!” Cool Cat marveled as her kegel muscles plied their trade on him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess,” the dog replied, bracing her hands against the couch’s armrest. “Now, time to ride the tiger!”

The couch springs groaned a litany of complaints as Dirty Dog bounced her hips on top of the cat’s lap. Their symphony of squeals and squeaks was joined by a chorus of wet slurping as Dirty Dog’s cunt tried to suck Cool Cat’s flesh back inside each time it was pulled out. The sights, sounds, and sensations of vigorous lovemaking hypnotized Cool Cat. All of his anxieties and uncertainties seemed entirely unimportant. In this moment, he was a male. And he was fucking a female. That was all he needed to know. That was all that mattered. Their urgency was even relayed to the couch he lay on, as it pushed his hips upward each time the dog’s prodigious rear lifted away. Despite the undeniable pleasure surging through his loins, a dull throb was growing in the meat of his groin as her weight smacked into it over and over.

“Geez, Dirty Dog, I hate to interrupt, but I’m feeling a little smushed!” Cool Cat panted, tapping his partner on her wide hip.

“Fuck’s sake. Guess it can’t be helped,” she sighed, lifting her rear and unsheathing the cat’s mucus-drenched weapon into the cool air. She scooted forward and draped herself over the armest, keeping her knees on the cushions. The position bent her dripping rear upwards, fully exposing both holes. “Alright, Cat. Show me how it’s done, doggy style!”

“Oh boy!” Cool Cat cried as he clambered up behind her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he prepared to sink himself back into her flesh–only this time he’d be able to see it happen in graphic detail. The scents of lovemaking were also more pronounced than ever from this angle. He permitted himself to indulge in these fresh sensations for a few seconds before pressing his fat tip into her sex. It parted around him, slid across the glans, and then once more he found himself sheathed in vaginal flesh. This time, he didn’t thrust in all the way. The sight of the upper third of his prick forcing her open enthralled him.

“Holy shit, cat! Keep that up! Just like that!” Dirty Dog moaned as she dug her claws into the crusty carpet.

Unbeknownst to Cool Cat, his tip was sliding against her g-spot. The ridged skin tingled as the feline’s penis bumped into it again and again. While the finer points of feminine anatomy eluded him, the sounds his partner uttered made it clear that he should keep going.

“Wow, it feels like you've got my wiener in a headlock and you're giving it noogie!” he remarked, his thrusts halted by a series of harsh spasms.

“I'm a bully to the fuckin’ core!” Dirty Dog gasped, her vision going white. “Now keep humpin’! You're about to get a wet willy!”

“But my ears are up–WHOA!”

With one final, fierce thrust against her g-spot, Dirty Dog abandoned all dignity and control over body. Fluid spurted out, drenching the salt-and-Cheeto-dust-colored fur on Cool Cat's balls. She twitched, gurgling and growling deep in her throat like an enraged animal. Shocked, Cool Cat wobbled forward on his knees, inadvertently plunging himself to the hilt in her wildly squirming hole. Full immersion in that chasm of orgasmic feminine fury was more than his neglected cock could bear.

“HOLY SHIT, THIS IS BETTER THAN THE 1998 KING OF THE RING!” Cool Cat shrieked as his soul roared out of his urethra. His hips trembled and danced as under stimulated parts of his middle-aged brain were forced into overdrive.

Then there was silence. Sweaty, humid silence. Fluid pattered against the couch as Cool Cat fell backwards. His tingling meat flopped against his thigh. Dirty Dog lifted herself upright, her back cracking loudly.

“Didja mean that? she asked, swiping a hand against her labia to sniff at the mingled fluids that dangled between her fingers. “Better than the Hell in a Cell match?”

“Times a thousand!” the cat affirmed, watching her wipe her hand on the upholstery. “Say, you're not worried that I just put kittens in you? I shoulda pulled out, but I kinda tripped!”

Dirty Dog laughed. “Nah. I'm way past worrying about that. Got spayed years ago.”

The two enemies sat on the couch, their breathing slowing as they contemplated what had just taken place between them. At last, Dirty Dog stood up and grabbed her pants and underwear from the floor before pulling them back on.

“Hey, you don't have to go anywhere tonight! My bed is plenty big enough!” Cool Cat offered, gesturing toward the bare mattress strewn with identical pairs of shorts and t-shirts.

“Oh, Cat,” Dirty Dog sighed, pulling on her iconic t-shirt. He had gotten older, but not much wiser. The dork. She looked down at him, lying on his back with his knees apart. His still slightly chubby maleness drooled against the short fur of his thigh. “It shoulda been you that got the Playgirl spread.”

“The wha?”

“Nothing,” she replied, leaning down to kiss him on his smiling lips one more time before making her way to the door.

“Can I…call you again sometime?” Cool Cat asked, not getting up to meet her gaze as he listened to his front door squeak open.

“You'd better, dor–cat,” Dirty Dog answered. She stepped out of his apartment. The door clicked shut, and her footsteps trailed away.

Cool Cat stood up and walked to his window. The first vestiges of dawn were painting the horizon a deep purple. He could no longer see his face in the glass, but if he could…he'd find that his eyes were smiling as much as his mouth always was. How long has it been since he could say that?

How long?