In the Life of the Cat
WARNING! This story contains an awesome yiff scene designed specifically for the masturbatory fantasies of the reader. If you are under the age of consent, do not read on without permission.
I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. I lay silently, listening. I don't answer my phone, because it's safer that way, and I'm lazy. My answering machine picked up and its mechanical voice performed the duty for which I bought it.
"The person you have called is not available. Please leave a message after the tone." I heard, followed by the tape fast-forwarding and a beep.
"Hey Cat! I know you're home! It's John. I need you to come by the shop again today." A click, followed by the tape rewinding, announced the end of the message.
I lied in bed for a few more minutes before throwing back the covers and sitting up. The ensuing yawn became a full-fledged feline stretch that wracked my orange-furred body. I let out my claws and scratched the white spot on my chest, purring. I then walked over and erased the messages off of my answering machine and walked into the bathroom to begin my morning routine. I pulled my sheath back and pissed while I pondered the message.
"This is the third day in a row. I mean, what the hell?" I said to myself.
I flushed the toilet and waited a minute or two before starting the shower, so as to let the water temperature reassert itself. I don't normally bathe like that, but a tongue bath would take a while and I needed to get over to John's shop quickly. I stepped in and, when I deemed my fur wet enough, opened my bottle of Pert Plus and squeezed the green liquid into my paw. I purred deeply while massaging it all over my body. When I was finished, I turned off the shower, stepped out, and dried myself off. Then, I walked over to my sink and grabbed my toothbrush.
Before brushing my teeth, I had to admire myself in the mirror. Not many alley cats could match me in fitness. Or beauty. My muzzle and paws are white, and so is a spot on my chest and the last four inches of my tail. The rest is a glossy orange. I'm not exactly buff, but I have a firm body and my muscles show nicely. My emerald green eyes met those on my reflection and I repeated what most people I know tell me.
"God! You're just so gorgeous!" I smiled.
I squeezed some Crest onto my brush and scrubbed vigorously at my teeth, making sure to remove all the visible particles. I flossed quickly and went to my dresser. I pulled on my usual garments, which were a red silk thong, denim shorts, and a plain white shirt. Then I opened my jewelry box and retrieved my favorite diamond-stud earring, which I adorned my right ear with. Next came the diamond inlaid gold watch on my left wrist, followed by my diamond pinky-ring on my right paw. Last was the simple gold ring I put through my left nipple. On my way to the door, I stopped at my desk and got out my knife, which I folded and put in my pocket, and my .45, which I tucked into the back of my shorts. When I reached the door, I pulled my leather jacket off the rack and donned it; then I left, locking the door behind me.
Downstairs, the superintendent, who was a nice female mouse, stopped me. She had always been kind to me, ever since I first moved in at 19. Then again, that was only two years ago.
"James, do you have your rent?" She asked.
"Yes ma'am. How much do you need?" It was the same question I always asked.
"$500. Just like always." Came the usual answer.
I felt my jacket pocket, in which I always kept my cash. I reached in, drew out a roll of hundreds, and gave her five. She smiled and thanked me before walking off. I was the only person paying $500 for a two-bedroom apartment in the slums of the city. Everyone else paid only $300. Me, I had a deal with Mrs. Husser, the super. I pay her an extra $200, and, if someone asks, I don't live there.
Putting my money back into my pocket, I walked outside and turned right. I said hello to various people as I walked down the street five blocks and turned right into a familiar alley. I easily picked my way down the honeycomb of narrow passages until I reached a reinforced steel door that read, "John's Butcher Shop ? Deliveries." I knocked on the door and the eye slit slid open.
"Good. You're here. Come on in." A gruff voice commanded.
The door creaked open and I stepped into a room filled with the various tools used by butchers to prepare meat for order. Before me stood John, one of the most handsome lions I had ever laid eyes on. He had a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a white apron over it. His white scrubs halted perfectly above his ankles. He was the only butcher I had ever seen without a single drop of blood on his apron.
"Let me grab some cash." He said, walking out the door leading to the service area. "Still the same price, right? You haven't changed it, have you?" He asked upon returning.
"Yeah, it's the same price. I haven't changed it." I replied.
John nodded and handed me $600. I put it straight into my jacket pocket, before removing my jacket, and my gun. He looked at it with the same loathsome look he gave it the past two days in a row. He removed his apron, shirt, and scrubs and wiped his hands on a rag as I disrobed. I stood waiting, clad only in my jewels and thong. John walked over, his balls swaying temptingly with each step. He stopped in front of me and I began to do the job so many call on me for. Kneeling, I began to lick his sheath. The hardened member within began to peek out slowly with each pass of my tongue. I reached my paw up and began to fondle his testicles. He released a throaty growl.
His member was now the full ten inches and pulsed in time with his heart. I extended the length of my licks to include the entire cock. Precum oozed down and I used my tongue to spread it all over his cock, lubricating it. This done, I stood and removed my thong, exposing the raging boner it so inadequately hid. I stepped in and embraced John, kissing him deeply. He slowly walked me backwards until a wall stopped me. He ran his hands down my chest, abs, hips, and thighs before returning to the base of my ass. He lifted me up about a foot into the air before lowering me onto his cock.
I gasped into his muzzle as his length split me open. Pain soon gave way to ecstasy as his member filled me, rubbing my insides deliciously. He began a slow rhythmic humping, and I squeezed his member on every thrust, helping him on his way to climax. His kissing moved from my muzzle to my neck. He gently nibbled at my throat as his thrusts became faster. He exhaled sharply and I felt my bowels being filled with his seed. Instead of stopping, however, he merely slowed down. Two days ago, I was surprised at this; the next day, I was unconcerned; and that day, I was expectant. After about five minutes of incredibly slow humping, he began to thrust quicker and harder again. His muzzled moved from my neck to my left nipple. His tongue licked circles around it and played with the nipple-ring. He also nibbled and sucked at it. My testicles begged for release and my cock was painfully erect.
He thrust deeply, threw his head back, and roared. I felt his second load shoot off into me, and I moaned. By this time, we were both sweat-covered and breathing hard. He backed off, withdrawing his penis from within my ass. He put me down slowly, making sure I could stand before letting go. His cum was leaking out of my ass and began a small trail down my right thigh. John closed his eyes and turned slowly, lifting his tail away to reveal his pink asshole. He began to lower himself on to my shaft, already well lubricated with large amounts of pre. I hooked my paws onto his waist and drew him in, trusting very slowly. He grunted, but didn't cease his backward motion. Soon, he had me hilted in him and humping slowly. It wasn't long before my balls pulled and I buried my seed in his anus. Exhausted, I slid down the wall to the floor. We both sat and rested a while. John stood, finally, and helped me up.
"Thanks Cat. That was fun. I may call you again, sometime." He said.
"The same words he used yesterday and the day before." I thought to myself. I put all my clothes back on and walked over to the door. John was putting on his clothes, and called after me, "Be careful."
"I'm not called the Alley Cat solely for my breed." I said, closing the door.
I began to re-navigate the alleys, heading home. I checked my cell phone and had no messages. "Good," I thought, "Maybe I'll get some free time." I didn't notice the young golden retriever until he bumped into me.
"Excuse me." He mumbled, still walking.
I wasn't dumb, though. I immediately turned and grabbed him by the scuff of the neck.
"My money back?" He reached over his shoulder, holding my cash in his paw. I took it from him, then looked him up and down. I couldn't tell much, because he was wearing a trench coat. I pulled out my .45 and pressed the barrel against his back.
"This is a Colt .45. It can end your life in a fraction of a second." I backed a few feet away. "Turn around."
He complied. I did another spot search and liked what I saw. He was young, couldn't be over 19. He was firm and well built. Under his trench coat, he wore a gray shirt with Tommy Hilfiger on the chest and a pair of blue jeans. I knew exactly what to do with him. I reached into my pocket and withdrew my knife. Flicking it open, I walked over to him and wrapped my arm around his waist and placed the knife blade right above his hipbone. I then pulled his trench coat over the my arm so as to conceal the offence.
"It you call for help or try to run, your dead. Just follow my lead. Smile a little and relax. Tell me, what's your name, kid."
"My name is Tyler." He said.
I lead him down the alleyway and up another, following the memorized route home. By the time we reached my apartment, I had gleaned much information from Tyler. He had turned 18 three months ago. His mother was an abusive alcoholic and his father was no better. He was an only child. A couple of days after he turned 18, her ran away from home, and, when he left, he took everything he owned and stole $30. He had hoped to find a job and begin to support himself, but after a month he was broke and had already pawned off everything but the clothes he wore. Growing up, he had a knack for slight-of-hand and found himself to be and efficient pickpocket. So he survived by stealing everything from wallets to watches and pawning it all. He still had no place to stay, and pickpocketing only provided enough to eat and a hotel room for the night.
I lead him inside and locked the door. I put my jacket on the coat rack and my knife and gun in the desk. He looked confused for a moment. Before he could get any funny ideas, I asked, "Are you hungry?"
"Ummm. Yeah. Why?"
"Well, what do you like to eat?"
He thought for a moment before answering, "You got any cheeseburgers?"
I liked him already. I told him to wait in the living room, watch some TV, or look around. I took some patties out of the freezer and threw them onto my little indoor grille. About twenty minutes later, I called him into the kitchen and put a cheeseburger in front of him. He ate it hungrily. I had barely picked mine up before he was finished. I thought for a second, then handed him mine.
"Thanks." He said before wolfing it down.
"You like my apartment?"
"Yeah, it's nice. Did you by all of this?" He indicated the luxurious Persian rug, velvet couch and matching recliner, 32-inch flat screen TV, and other expensive luxuries I adorned the room with.
"Yeah."
"What kind of job do you have"
"I'm self-employed."
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "I wish I could have a job like that."
"Do you?"
"Most definitely!"
"How about working for me, then?"
"Absolutely! How much will I make?"
"It depends. If you live in this apartment with me, half of what I make in a day, since there is just two of us. If you want to live somewhere else, you'll only make a tenth of what I make."
"How much do you make?"
"I one day, I average around $2000."
"What the hell! What do you do!"
"It's kind of a secret. You have to work for me to find out."
"You don't kill people, do you?"
"Only if they try to kill me first."
"Okay, I'm in. So what is the job?"
"Come on, I'll show you."
I lead him to my bedroom. I unlocked the door and followed him in, locking the door behind us. He stared in awe around my room. A 30-inch flat screen TV was mounted on the wall opposite my bed, which was a king size and had silk sheets. My dresser was solid mahogany, neatly polished. In the corner, by the bed, was a golden lamp depicting two wolves making love while standing.
"Wow." Tyler whispered.
"Shall we get on with your job training?"
"Oh. Yeah, right. So, what do I do?"
"Take off all of your clothes."
He looked puzzled, but complied none the less. I looked him up and down, noting his fine build and large sheath and balls. I felt his pecs and abs, which were beyond satisfactory. I felt his thighs and calves, and they, too, were nice. The entire time, Tyler had his eyes closed and his cock was hardening in his sheath. I reached my arms around and grabbed his ass.
"Hey! What the hell!"
"Calm down, pup. You know, if you relaxed a bit, you would make a good male whore."
"Is that what you do!?!"
"Yes." I answered.
He looked at me shocked.
"It's a good job," I said. "If you're good at it, you earn respect, renown, and loads of cash. And I can tell, you'll be VERY good at it."
"So what will I do, sleep with females for money?"
"First off, there is usually no sleep involved. Second, it's the males that fork over the big dough."
His jaw dropped. "I'm not mounting a male, and I'm definitely not being mounted by a male!"
"That's to bad, because to get out of this room, you'll have to do both very satisfyingly."
He stammered a bit, but knew he was defeated.
"Now, lesson one. Don't think, react." I stripped down to just my thong. "Kneel." I told him.
He hesitated, so I firmly grasped his shoulders and forced him to his knees.
"React." I reminded him. "Pull down my thong."
He did so slowly. My cock was hard, but had not revealed itself yet.
"Lick my sheath." He began to do so, and it was wonderful. "While you do that, you can stroke my legs or belly, grab my ass, fondle my testicles, or finger my anus." There was no hesitation. He immediately began to do a little of everything. I took that as a good sign.
"You like this, don't you?" I asked.
He looked up at me, all teary-eyed, and shook his head, no. When I saw that, however, I didn't see an 18-year-old golden retriever named Tyler. I saw a 16-year-old alley cat named James.
"HOLY SHIT!" I yelled, backing away. I must have tripped over my feet, because I fell onto my ass and crab-walked into the corner. All the painful memories I had tried so hard to forget came flooding back. I drew my knees up into my face and began to cry.
Tyler hesitated, then realized it was his chance to escape and made for the door. Before he reached it, curiosity and concern overtook him. He walked over and kneeled beside me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting manner.
"What's wrong?" He asked quietly.
"My life is one big, rotten fuckball." I sobbed. I told him about how my mother was a prostitute, and about how she would let her customers rape me for a little extra cash. I told him about when one of her customers killed her and kidnapped me, and about how I was held as a prisoner of sorts and raped everyday until I was 13. I told him about when I was able to escape the bonds he held me with and kill him, and how I ran away and lived on the streets. I told him of the alley cat that taught me how to male whore, and about how he pimped me out for the next six years. I told him that, when I was 19, I survived a drive-by shooting that left my pimp dead, and about how, since then, I lived at that apartment building, whoring to make money to live on.
My life story must have been very similar to his, because when I finally looked at him, he was also in tears. We sat and cried together for several minutes before we regained our composure.
"You can leave now, if you want." I said, wiping my eyes.
"I got a better idea. How about you let me live with you, you know, sleep on your couch or whatever, and we help each other through our problems. Who knows, maybe our lives will perk up. Maybe I'll find a nice girl and you'll find a nice guy or whatever, and we'll get good jobs and become the best of friends." He smiled.
"Yeah. I like that idea." I smiled.
That's all for today. Please visit the forum for this story in the Writer's Hideout and post your thoughts, or e-mail them directly to me, Cat Nyp at CatNyp87(at)aol.com. (Remove parenthesis. They are for anti-spam purposes.)