FSE

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The kitchen, the heart of any home, smells delightful. Sylvester Cat stands on a three-legged stool, stirring in a rather large saucepan a few simple ingredients: lima beans, corn, tomato, okra, onion, and orange bell peppers. Salting and peppering the sautéed combination, the vegetables are simply divine, tender, and ready to be eaten. The only thing Sylvester needs to add is some type of meat and then his southern delicacy will be ready to serve.

In a lisp well-known for his raspberry undertone, Sylvester thinks aloud, "Now what protein should I add to this dish? Tuna? No... too fancy. Bacon! Eh... too boring and cliché."

Tweety Bird, a young, large-headed, yellow canary flutters into the kitchen, "Oooh! What's da puddy-tat making?" Tweety inhales the scent deeply, patting his little belly, "It smells dee-ee-ee-wishes!"

"Thank you!" Sylvester says rather proudly, "But it ain't for you!" he says, his demeanor quickly turning snarky and sour, "This is my famous succotash recipe my mamaw used to make! It's almost done, too. All I need is something juicy and meaty," he says, looking slyly at the bird, "Say... maybe you could help me out?"

"Ooh! Otay!" Tweety says, oblivious to Sylvester's implications, "What can I do?"

"Well, you can lie here on this aluminum foil... y-you know, so it doesn't flutter away off the cutting board," says the cat, grabbing Tweety and setting him on the foil.

"Otay! Then what do I do?" the bird asks, wiggling his large, orange feet.

Sylvester begins sharpening a large butcher knife, "Just wait there while I get my utensils ready. We want to make sure we can stab that meat just right and poke and shred it apart."

Tweety says nothing, laying on his back, toddling his feet back and forth. While he's waiting for further instruction, he looks to the wall of the kitchen, nothing Sylvester's shadow creeping closer with a knife over his head. Immediately, the tiny canary panics and flutters off of the cutting board just in time to miss Sylvester's ruthless stabbing. The knife gets stuck in the cutting board, springing back and forth like a stiff spring.

"Hey!" Tweety says, panting, "You almost got me under dat ting!"

"I would have gotten you if you hadn't moved! Hold still!" Sylvester hisses, ripping the knife out of the cutting board and chasing after Tweety, "You always pull this! This is the natural order of things, you annoying twerp!" Sylvester leaps over furniture and décor just to try and swing his knife at the bird, "You're the bird, I'm the cat! Get in my mouth where you belong!"

"You always do dis to me, you bad ol' puddytat!" Tweety says, landing on the arm of a sofa, "Maybe I happen to be sick and tired of it!"

Sylvester stops, putting the knife down, crossing his arms, "So then what do you propose we do? You won't let me just catch and eat you!"

"Well, any'ting other dan dis! Day in and day out, Puddytat!" Tweety scolds, tapping his foot rapidly on the sofa arm with his little wings on his hips.

Sylvester smirks, looking at Tweety with hunger, "Well... there is something I've always wanted to do, but I know you just won't like it."

"I don't care what it is!" Tweety scoffs, "Give me some'ting more exciting!"

"I'm glad you said that," Sylvester says, protracting his claws, leaping toward the little bird, grabbing ahold of him and somersaulting to a kneeling position, "because there's something else I've been wanting to do for a very, very long time."

Tweety struggles to get loose. As he opens his eyes and looks to the ground, he can see something shiny and red. As he squints, he stretches his neck out a short way, seeing that the strange red object is attached to Sylvester. After a few glances and doing the math, Tweety realizes that he's staring at the cat's cock.

"Oh my god," Tweety gasps, "Sylvester!"

"Get used to seeing it, little birdy," the cat purrs, his cock twitching as he passes Tweety over to his right paw, holding him tightly, "and get used to feeling it," he says sinisterly, licking his left pinkie, turning Tweety to expose his tiny asshole, and pressing his soaked pinkie against the canary's little ass. "Any last words, you tiny tease?"

"Pwease!" Tweety begs, starting to cry, attempting to cross his feet over one another, thinking that would somehow prevent the violation, "Not my widdle butthole! Sylvester, that's too far! You're woozing your mind!"

"You know," Sylvester says calmly, twisting his pinkie slowly inside Tweety's hole, "they say that if you deny yourself the things you crave... you'll only crave them even more until primal urges take over. What's more primal than a bad-ol-puddytat chasing after a sweet-ol-tweety bird?"

"Otay! Otay... I get it... wh-what do you want!? I'll do any'ting, just pwease don't eat me," Tweety begs.

"Oh, we're passed that. I'm not gonna eat'cha," Sylvester says, plunging his pinkie further up Tweety's tight hole, "I'm just gonna fuck you," he says, plunghing his pinkie in and out of the canary's asshole, "over and over again. After all... every bird needs a good stuffing."

Tweety feels his asshole gaping, his stomach feeling full and aching with both pressure and anxiety. He tries to call Granny for help, but his voice just won't carry; the small bird becomes winded from the pressure in his ass and stomach, that he has no choice but to try and constantly catch his breath. The cat's pinkie is so thick and so large compared to his little bitty frame that he can barely take it.

Sylvester pulls his pinkie out of Tweety's ass, licking it slowly, "Mmm, even your insides are tender and juicy," he begins to lower the little bird to his cock, "exactly what my dick needs right now."

Tweety's life flashes before his eyes, replaying every single antic he's ever played on the poor cat. He hyperventilates, struggles to get free, and even continues to try and call for help, but his efforts are useless. He feels Sylvester's hot, precum soaked tip pressing against his already-gaped hole, feeling it slowly slide inside. I would prefer his finger again if I had to make a choice! Why is he doing dis? Is it because of all the pwanks!? I was only pwaying awound!"

Sylvester eases Tweety onto his cock, slowly screwing him on like a cap on a plastic bottle. With a smirk and loud purring, Sylvester begins to stroke his cock with Tweety as nothing but a mere rag to dispose of his seed. The cat bites his bottom lip as he slides the squirming, fussing bird up and down his shaft, stuffing Tweety's hole over and over again. He groans loudly, thrusting lightly as he carries Tweety over to the sofa cushions, wrapping his paws around Tweety's body so he can't move. He presses Tweety onto the cushions, thrusting harder, pinning the little bird hard that he can barely squirm.

"You're sewiouswy doing dis?!" Tweety gasps, "You're just going to use me as a cum wag?!" The poor little bird squeezes his eyes tightly as he feels the cat's entire cock sliding into him, filling his entire body - so it seems - only to pull it all the way back out to do it all over again. The little bird grunts and groans, wiggling his fat little feet, trying to get away to no avail.

"Oh, good lord!" Sylvester grunts, slamming himself deeply into the little bird before picking him up from the cushions, jerking off with him yet again. "You're so tight! Why haven't I done this before?" Sylvester strokes himself with Tweety even harder, having no regard for the bird's comfort nor cries and pleas. "It's like stuffing my dick into a buttery bagel!"

Tweety can't reply; all the poor bird can do is suffer, trying to get free. Each plunge of Sylvester's cock sends Tweety into a miniature panic. He tries to scream but can only produce winded groans as his tiny body is stuffed over and over with a precum-lubed cock. Sylvester's cock twitches inside the bird, pumping out a large gob of precum which nearly fills Tweety to his brim. He can feel the hot seed splashing inside of him, oozing out slowly as Sylvester thrusts harder and faster.

"You dirty birdy," Sylvester pants, thrusting into the canary, "you're not struggling too hard to get away. Maybe you like being fucked silly!" He laughs, grunting as he sprays more of his precum inside the little bird, squeezing him so tightly Tweety actually can't move well enough. "Yeah, that's it... you like being fucked into submission, don't you?" Sylvester uses both paws to stroke his cock with the poor, exhausted bird. "All this time you've been teasing and toying with me... you wanted this, didn't you?"

"N-no..." Tweety gasps, wheezing from all the pressure applied to his stomach. Each time Sylvester releases his precum, Tweety can feel it. It oozes out of his tiny hole and down his little legs, coating his large, orange feet glob after glob. Soon, Sylvester's thrusting becomes audible with loud, wet, sloppy sounds caused by his balls slapping against Tweety's cum-soaked belly. "P-pwease..."

"Oooh, you shouldn't beg like that, you annoying twerp!" Sylvester scowls amidst a groan, "My balls are getting so tight and you're already dripping wet!" The cat purrs loudly, hunching over to simulate a more natural mating position atop the tiny bird. Tweety is stuck on Sylvester's cock like a mere used condom, unable to get free no matter how hard he flails. Pressing Tweety onto the ground, Sylvester thrusts in place while Tweety clings to the carpet, dragged back and forth, nearly creating a carpet burn on his tummy.

Sylvester slams himself as hard as he can into the little bird, meowing strangely as his eyes dilate. He protracts his claws and stabs them into the carpet, thrusting forward again, holding his position. His cock starts to throb inside the panting, tired bird and suddenly... he begins to wail, meowing and purring, almost screaming in a euphoric bliss. As he groans louder, his sack begins to throb, pouring cum straight into Tweety's asshole.

Tweety can feel his stomach slowly filling up with the cat's seed, pouring over his anal rim and onto the carpet beneath him. It's so full... my poor widdle ass. My poor widdle body! This puddytat is gonna be the death of me! I tink I woulda pweferred if he ate me.

Sylvester slowly pulls his gooey cock out of Tweety's ass, tossing Tweety carelessly to the sofa where he seeps with cum draining from his little hole. "Don't ever say I didn't do ya any favors, Tweety-Brat," Sylvester smiles, "now if you'll excuse me, I've got succotash to finish cooking. Now where'd Granny stick that Applewood Bacon?"

Tweety lays like a ragdoll on the sofa in a puddle of cat semen, watching Sylvester disappear from view. "One of deez days, Puddytat... wevenge will be m-mine! Ugh," Tweety collapses as he tries to get up, calling into the cum puddle, "Maybe after a quick west... that bad ol' puddytat took a wot out of me!"