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Something is wrong with Rebecca.

You surprised her with a box of chocolates and a little outfit change when she came to get you from the library at the end of the school day, but you didn't expect her to be quite so bubbly. Lots of rumbly-voiced affections, chuffing, and hugs were normal, but you didn't expect her to rub on you quite so much. She did it in the library and when you were getting in the van.

And she's speeding now. That never happens.

You're pretty sure the chocolates you got her weren't laced, and you don't think the cookie you had sent to her at lunch from her 'secret admirer' was either. You look down at yourself while her tail swishes against the car seat and her humming purrs fill the cabin. The spiffy suit and tie you'd thrown on top of your outfit certainly looked nice, but you don't think they're that nice. The tigress has never had a thing for fancy clothes as far as you can tell.

If anything, she's got a thing for destroying them. A massive paw reaches over the console and kneads at your leg. Her eyes flick from the stoplight to you, a massive, almost dopey smile on her face. She doesn't say anything as her hand roams, claws barely popping in and out. She just smiles and purrs -- loud enough the windows shake.

Your pants and jacket are filled with little pinpricks by the time the light changes and her hand goes back on the wheel. She was more forceful than usual, her grip and claws more akin to what you're used to in the bedroom. A little friskiness is to be expected on Valentines, but the reason you got dressed up was the dinner plans the two of you had made. You'd reserved a spot at a semi-upscale Italian place; you assumed the trip home was just to drop off all the school stuff.

Judging by Rebecca's little butt-wiggle, though, you might have something else to take care of.

You reach into your bag and search for the cologne bottle you used. It's the only other thing that was out of the ordinary today. You spritzed it on when you did your little outfit change, right before meeting her and locking up the school library. It's been a long time since you used any -- you might've gone a little heavy. Some on the wrists, elbows, neck, and chest, and then a spray in your pants just in case. The bottle was one of a few leftovers you had at your apartment from your college days; the familiar stylized panther face greets you when you finally find it.

You look over the bottle again, its claims about '80% of the time, works every time' running through your head. It smells faintly sweet like peppermint, but you can't find a specific scent anywhere -- just that it's made with silvervine. You don't recognize the name. Rebecca doesn't notice when you slip the bottle away and pull out your phone for some hasty research.

Your heart's not sure whether to flutter or sink.

"...part of the kiwi family, native to the mountainous regions of west Asia..."

"...most effective of the plants, even more than catnip..."

"...produces a euphoric effect on cats, and may increase libido..."

"...symptoms include sedation, hyperactivity, rolling, licking, and matatabi dancing..."

A shadow washes over you before you can read how long the symptoms last or what the hell 'matatabi dancing' is; the car skirts to a stop in your garage.

And your jiggly, wiggly, very bubbly tiger-wife already has her seatbelt off.

Your phone drops somewhere between the seats as Rebecca grabs you. She's halfway over the console while she fumbles for your buckle, her chest practically pressing you into the door. You're barely able to push it away before your seatbelt is undone and you're yanked into her lap with a firm hand on the ass.

Rebecca sinks you deep into her red sweater and nuzzles at your hair, deafening you with purring chuffs. Your not sure if its her kneading or your pawing at her tits that draws out the grumbly moans. They're followed by a girlish giggle.

"Hmm-mm, s-sorry Anon! I just --"

Her words devolve into a chuffy grumble as a shiver passes through her. Your massive tigress shimmies in her seat, her generous curves making sure you feel every bit of it. She bounces you up out of her breasts and plunges your face into her neck fluff with a renewed grip. Your teeth rattle at the rumbling so close, her chin scraping at the back of your head and shoulders. You splutter and try to find purchase against her -- but Rebecca is as soft and squishy as ever. She tightens her hug with a trill before grabbing your hands and pressing them into her overstuffed sweater-pillows.

You're allowed to pull back from her fur with a moist gasp; the tigress' green eyes glitter down at you.

"U-uh, Reb?"

The tigress responds with hungry lips, her mouth roaming all over your face. She resists your attempts to break away with idle pulls on your hands. You're allowed to breathe here and there, her tongue mercifully staying outside your mouth. Its rough scrapes on your skin make you stiffen and almost hiss. Rebecca draws it along your cheeks and forehead, the spikes combing through your facial hair. Your breath catches in your throat when she dips down to your neck and nuzzles under your jaw. Her kisses there cover you from head to shoulder; the little nips and presses of her teeth make you squeeze her tits.

"R-Rebecca," you manage, trying to ignore the chuffing on your skin, "s-shouldn't we be getting ready?"

The tigress' heavy breasts trap your legs when she pulls you up onto her stomach. She palms your back with one paw and claws deftly at your buttons with the other, leaving your hands free. Grabbing her hair doesn't deter her from pressing her broad nose into your chest. She snuffles and shudders at your exposed skin before giving it a lick -- which makes you squeal.

The sound gets her to look up -- though her eyes are half-lidded, not wide.

"Ready for what?" she asks, grabbing your wrist and rubbing against your hand.

"For -- for you know, the dinner?"

It's hard to read her expression with her one cheek squished, but her pleasure comes through loud and clear. She hums, moving your hand to the other side of her face before rubbing against the back of your palm. "We have some time, don't we? When did it... start again?"

"Our table was for 6, and --"

"What time is it now?"

"I -- I don't know. I can't -- Woah!"

Rebecca shifts you onto her shoulder with one hand, the cabin lights turning on right beside your head as she opens the door.

"Lets go inside," Rebecca says, "we can check the time on the cock!"

Your member presses into her shoulder. "On the --?"

"O-on the clock! On the clock!"

Her derriere shakes with extra vigor below you as the tigress hauls you inside like a fresh kill.

"Reb, what about your bags?"

"We'll get them later," she says hastily, passing quickly through the living room; the clock on the wall goes unchecked, as you somewhat expected.

"Rebecca, what are you doing?" you ask as she starts down the main hall.

"W-well, I have to change, right?" she says, "I wouldn't want to go out in my teaching clothes. A-and there's a clock in there! Our alarm clocks."

You're in the bedroom before you can really argue. Rebecca tosses you into bed hard enough that the comforter's loud whump makes her jump. She giggles at your predicament; you're practically drowning in the bed covering, the special mattress making you sink even further. You manage to slap enough of it down to look over at your alarm clock -- 5:03pm.

"Rebecca it's --"

You stop when you see she's already nude. The sweater and bra, tight as the latter is, aren't surprising, but the dress and bulky under-layers practically take you ten minutes to work off her most of the time. Her hands are planted on the bed, locks of long, orange hair hanging messily about her tits as she cocks her head with a blissful bedroom smile. Her tail -- along with her sizable rear end -- sway playfully just above.

"How the hell do you do that?"

She just giggles.

"Why are you doing that?" you ask when she starts crawling on the bed, "it's already five! It's going to take us like twenty minutes to get there!"

"I told you I had to 'change,'" she giggles. "And you do, too!"

"No, my clothes are --"

You freeze as the sound of tearing fabric fills the air; Rebecca smiles a little too proudly at your clawed-open fly and the tattered tails of your shirt.

"Oops! Now you do..." she rumbles, crawling halfway onto you. "Let me just help you here..."

The heavy weight of her breasts and stomach enveloping your lower half doesn't bring the usual comfort. Not when the tigress grips your shirt on each side and tears it down the middle, sending buttons flying. Her snout smashes into your chest again, this time able to roam with impunity. She idly tries to slip the ruined garment and your suit jacket off while lavishing your chest with touches of her wet nose and lips.

Beneath her belly and bosom, your toes curl at the scrape of her tongue along your chest hair.

"J-jeeze, Rebecca -- you just can't wait?" you ask, having mostly resigned yourself to your fate. She responds by pressing her teeth into your nipple and rumbling. Shakily, you work with her attempts at removing the jacket. You don't want your arms torn from their sockets, much less more intimate explorations with her teeth. Her jaws hovering above your member while your pants came down has never filled you with such dread.

Somehow, she doesn't comment on the partial fear-boner when she's finally rendered you nude. Not verbally at least -- she sticks her nose between your legs and gives a tickling inhale. That combined with her lips pressing your dick down is enough for you to buck. The tigress' eyes flick up to you with a chuff. She puts your legs on her shoulders and -- drops her head flat on your torso with enough force to make you wheeze.

You stare in confused amazement as she drags her chin along your chest in an arc, purring and chuffing all the while. Her rumbling neck is right on your groin. The look in her enormous pupils seems to say she doesn't notice the hardness against her throat or doesn't care.

"Anon, I really, really love you," she half says, half purrs. She punctuates the statement with a series of hard kisses along your centerline, ignoring your stammering attempts at a reply. You manage to form a coherent response when she begins disentangling your legs from her shoulders

"Rebecca, w-we should be getting ready," you say. "I-it's like 20 minutes away, at least..."

You're not sure if she detects the half-heartedness in your words, but you certainly do.

"Mmm-hmm, sure honey," she says, flopping onto her side; you slip into her divot in the mattress with an ease and familiarity that almost scares you. "If we could just -- do one little thing..."

You're pulled into her boobs hard enough for a small plap to ring out. You splutter and push against her as she wiggles you into place deep between them, but your hands on her curves only seem to intensify the shaking hug. The tigress palms the back of your head firmly and scrubs your face along her cleavage with a low moan. A huge leg draped gently over your hips keeps you in place while letting you slide up and down along her -- and lets her rub herself against you with bouncing curves.

"Hold me," she says, her husky voice loud in your head. "Mmm... hold me, Anon!"

You might if you weren't worried about breathing. You dig your hands into the cream fur of her front and try to part her heavy tits. The little success you have lets you take a few pulls of scent-laden air, and it seems to please the tigress as a bonus. Rebecca squeezes her chest with both arms, laughing as you're locked in a pillowy prison. The wiggling and jiggling doesn't stop. You let out a small groan at the full-body shaking you feel. If that dinner reservation wasn't so expensive, and there wasn't the morally dubious aspect of 'you accidentally drugged your wife,' you'd enjoy this. You'd enjoy it a lot.

So much that you don't realize the half-ton tigress is rolling over until it's too late.

Your already muffled cry from between her breasts is reduced to nothing as Rebecca flattens you beneath her with a huff, followed by a giggle. Her arms slip out from around you, her weight more than enough to keep you pinned. The bubbly purring bounces along with her as she begins to wiggle on top of you. Her chuffs when you paw at her for purchase are like thunder.

It's hard to tell what exactly her goal is despite having been in this position plenty of times. She's teasing you with her tits and rubbing her hips on yours, but it's not as hard or driven as usual. The shifts in her weight are more exaggerated, like she's trying to feel you with every inch. When Rebecca rubs herself up and down along your centerline you figure things are going to get heated, but you're treated to a tour of her plush stomach before her hips drop on your face and her thighs pin your arms.

Moaning into her folds earns you some of her weight and a dull call in response. Beyond that, it isn't the muff-diving experience you've become used to. Rebecca's hips shake side to side, rocking your whole body since you're hugging her thighs. Little jabs press against your nose, but you're still able to breathe in her moist heat. A thin coating of sweat, excitement, and your own breath soon covers your face.

You slap at the tigress' thick thighs when the air in her private sauna grows stale. She chuffs, pressing her hips down into you with another wiggle. Only after a more frantic barrage does Rebecca shift up to her knees, letting you gasp and push at her hanging belly to try and catch your breath. She drags herself along you with another giggle, green eyes sparkling somewhere high above her cleavage as she comes to a stop.

"Anon, you're just -- so cute!" she purrs. She flops down again before you can respond, but this time her hands snake down beneath her curves. You feel her wiggle before the world lurches again as Rebecca rolls over onto her back, giggling all the while. She's like a worm beneath you, slipping this way and that while rubbing you against her. Your hands slip into the crease between her breasts and stomach as you're locked closer against her. She moves her hands to her breasts after some time and squishes them around your head with a giggle.

"You're so cute, Anon," she slurs. "So sweet, and so -- so huggable, and... I just want to --"

The tigress' paws move back to your form just when you were about to crest her cleavage. She rolls over onto you again, but this time doesn't stop on top. Rebecca giggles, wiggles, and lets loose a long, low moaning purr as you're taken on a ride around the bed, rolling over and over. It somehow leaves you even more breathless as her weight comes on and off -- the squishing and less-heavy squishing of her paws works with your starving lungs to spread a warm fuzziness through your limbs.

The lightheadedness is almost unbearable when she stops on top of you again. It takes a few moments for the phantom waves of motion to leave your sluggish senses, and for you to realize the tigress has completely stopped. No wiggling, no rocking -- even her hands have left your back. All you can feel is the gentle rise and fall of her chest on your face.

Rebecca jumps when you tap frantically at her side. Her apology as she lifts is half-drowned by your own gasp. She pulls her heavy tits off you and drops to the side, wiping the hair from your face as she gets as level with you as she can. The concern in her eyes tells you she's back to normal. She leans in close and pecks insistently at the side of your face when your breathing steadies out.

"I'm sorry, Anon, I don't know what happened," she whispers. "I remember coming home, and bringing you into the bedroom to change, and --"

Her nose twitches against your ear. Rebecca pulls back with a furrowed brow, her ears flattening. "Why do you smell like that?"

The blood rushing back to your head makes your blush feel even hotter. You adjust yourself to face her, laying your head on her arm.

"Well I, uh, may have put something on when I gave you those chocolates," you say. "You remember that, right?"

The tigress nods. Slowly.

"It turns out it has silvervine in it..."

Rebecca's eyes widen, and her ears fold back with a low groan. A hint of blush is visible through her white fur as she looks away sheepishly.

"I-I didn't... do anything too embarrassing, did I?" she asks, her gaze flicking back to you.

"You were a little overwhelming," you say, running a hand along her bust. "It would've been cute if I wasn't worried about passing out..."

She grumbles, pulling your hand up to her side to stroke there instead. "Did I hurt you?"

"You were a little rough on the tongue, but I'll live. My clothes took most of the damage..."

She huffs. Her tail whaps against the mattress as she looks off.

"Sorry, Rebecca..." you say, bringing a hand up to stroke her jaw. "I didn't know the cologne it had it in there. I didn't, you know, mean to drug you..."

Her cheek twitches under your hand. You bring it down and plunge it deep into her neck fur, scratching at a spot you know she likes.

"...If we still make it to dinner, I'll make it up to you. Extra appetizers -- my treat."

Rebecca finally cracks a smile. She looks back at you with a small snort. "We use the same joint account, mister."

"Well, maybe I can pay a different way," you say. She can't hide her gentle chuffs when you reach up and kiss along her cheeks. "Any suggestions?"

Rebecca rumbles in thought, a paw having absentmindedly gone to the back of your neck to stroke your hair. "Did you have any plans for after dinner?"

"Of course."

"Will you tell me what they are?"

"Not a chance."

She pouts. "Well then, I guess after whatever that is, I want harness time."

You stifle a shudder. "Sure."

"The rest of the night."

"...How about when I'm not in the harness, I'm your chair?"

"You seem to get more out of that than me," she grumbles.

"You melt when I touch your butt."

"I-I do not."

"You do-oo!"

"B-be quiet!"

Rebecca pushes you away when you try to climb down her body and give her ass a slap. She giggles again -- and it's just as warm as before. You let her break away with a defeated sigh and roll over onto your front to check the clock again.

"Alright, 5:31," you say. "We should have enough time to still make it. If we get dressed real fast --"

You're gently turned over by a large paw on your shoulder. Rebecca looms over you with bedroom eyes -- slightly more clear than before.

"Uh, R-Reb?" you say. "I-I thought the silvervine wore off?"

"It did," she purrs as she traces a hand along your arm. You don't resist when she pulls it straight by the wrist. "There's just one problem with it."

The bed creaks as she straddles you, her knee gliding over your stomach before her heat presses on your thighs.

"A-and what's that?"

"Silvervine is good for foreplay," she says, raising your other arm above your head, "but all that built-up excitement doesn't just... go away..."

She brings a hand down between your legs; your shiver at her touch earns a chuff. She guides you to her entrance and lets her lips hang on your head, not giving you her weight yet. You squirm, trying to fight the impulse to hammer up into her.

"We -- we have to leave soon."

"Then I guess you'll have to be quick --" she lets her hips fall, squeezing out a groan -- "and thorough..."

The consequences of your actions weigh heavy upon you as Rebecca leans down, just far enough that you can still see her face past her hanging breasts.

"I wouldn't mind if we were extra thorough, though... even if we ended up having leftovers."

You gulp. "...Last night's alfredo was pretty good."

Rebecca smiles.

"Good boy."