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Couple's Therapy

Running along the curving plain of Anna's stomach, Frank noticed she had used a different shampoo this morning: a crisp, wintery mint instead of her usual spring cinnamon fragrance. She applied it conservatively and rinsed heavy, but amidst the landscape of femininity the terrified male raccoon inhaled a lungful in each gasping breath.

"You're really out of shape," the giantess teased, voice rumbling from above the mountainous breasts before him, areolas rising as dark peaks from furred mounds. A raccoon herself, she was already tall and lithe even when he didn't come up to her ankle. As for Frank, her taunt held truth. While she'd been working as a dance instructor over the last five years with a body to match, his long years in an office cubicle had taken their tool on his once trim physique leaving him stout and chubby.

"Anna, don't do this," Frank pleaded, "you _can't_do this! I know the last year was tough, I shouldn't have thrown myself into work after we lost the baby, but I still love you."

His wife of ten years answered back, "aww, you're so cute like this." Down came a pair of curling, black fingers, like a child's crane game. Frank tried to reverse his direction, but he tripped and fell back into the depression of her navel, crying out in pain and fear as the fingers pinched him at the waist. Pressed in the middle with crushing force, Frank cried out as his kicking feet left the surface of Anna's tummy, rising up into the blinding light of the bedroom, brown eyes squinting shut.

A shadow fell over the squirming, trapped little raccoon, blocking out the ceiling bulb. Frank heard a thunderous male baritone answer "do I really sound like that?" Cracking open his eyes, he stared into a mountainous male, another raccoon of identical coloration and facial features, a perfect replication of Frank right down to the zigzagging stripe down his right check.

"You do at two inches tall, dear." Anna laughed lightly as the miniature clone gazed in horror at his own face enlarged a thousand times. "It's rather adorable, actually. I might ask you to have more made after tonight."

Rather than take offense, Frank grinned, settling up onto his knees atop Anna as she reclined, holding out his palm. "And I'm having more fun with this you, than the regular-sized one."

Curled up in the male's palm sat a miniature carbon-copy of Anna, her gray cheeks stained dark from crying. "The counselor was right: having trysts is therapeutic."

Named for free-love flings, most trysts were not created and purchased until a relationship turned sour. They were the comfort of the embittered, the legal revenge for the scorned, and in Frank and Anna's chance, an opportunity to settle their troubles without parting. Anna tightened her fingers about Tryst-Frank's legs and was rewarded with a faint crunch and a tiny scream. "Anna, please!" The little toy of flesh collapsed, sobbing while holding his leg in agony. "We've known each other since second grade! I took you to prom in a cab because I lost my license the night before. It's me, for gods' sakes, it's me!"

In response to this heartfelt outpouring, Anna bent the tryst's unbroken leg backward at an angle it did not naturally bend at. "Seems he knows all your embarrassing secrets."

"Well, the sales rep said trysts are implanted with a complete map based off the donor's neurological scan--like a carbon copy of your brain." Frank brought Tryst-Anna to his muzzle, slipping her pinhead breasts into his mouth and suckling on her entire chest at once as she writhed and pushed against his black nose in futility. "Said it's like having an exact tiny version of the person. They know everything you do, and they react like you would." He bit down, rivets of blood seeping between his crimson teeth to a small, shrill scream. "Heh, now who's a little squeaker?"

Anna settled onto her on the bed, her legs spreading to present her pink folds and ringed tail. "Oh, I'll squeak all right...if you can make me."

"Well, there's two of me," Frank straddled her, guiding the hand with himself down between her thighs. "And two of you." He brought the maimed tryst in to hers, taking his smaller self gently into his left hand, while his right slid down to grip his tightening shaft, aiming it like a torpedo at the moistening folds ahead. "Guess that's double the pleasure, double the satisfaction?"

"That'll be mild satisfaction in your case." She stuck her tongue out.

"Oh, now you're really going to get it." He glared daggers down at the miniature version.

Surrounded by the inward pillars of ebon with a chasm at their front and a monolith at their back, Tryst-Anna and Tryst-Frank dragged their broken bleedings forms closer together, a look of pained sadness shared between them. Unbeknownst to their original counterparts, the faux pair had mended their fence first, although Frank did pay them a bit of ironic justice when he quipped, "no doubt about it now; we're all staying together."

Bringing his throbbing member into both hands, he plunged the two squirming bodies into Anna's awaiting lips, his newly freed hands reaching up to grip her by the shoulders. Despite their injuries, the trysts pushed back, tiny hands and feet scrabbling against the sensitive tip of Frank's member and tickling the velvety folds of Anna's sex. She sank her claws into his back, throwing her head back in an eyes-closed moan-turned-snarl while he nipped at her throat, the thrusts coming faster and sharper, wedging the two additives amidst the clenching walls, then driving piston, pelvises bumping and hips rolling

In double synergy, Frank and Anna climaxed within seconds of each other; as did their trysts expire, little tortured bodies giving out amidst the quaking violence of passion: the female emerging a smear on the tip, the male a mass of broken bone swept from the clenching sex. "It's like that time I tried to fuck you during your period," Frank joked.

"Way to kill the moment," sighed Anna.

He kissed her long, wrapping his arms about her waist. "But I know you like cuddling." He shot a glance down at the bloody remains, "and so did he."

With a chirr of pleasure, she leaned into his broad chest, closing her eyes. "Well, I'm glad my mini-me isn't still around. I don't like sharing you with another woman."

"Then don't," Frank pulled her closer. "Whatever size you want me, I'm all yours."

How You Use It.

"Does it look small now?" The white rabbit waggled his penis over a mouse occupying the size threshold of her quadruped cousins. "Does it? Does it?!" Cringing, she shook her head frantically, no, sapphire eyes dilated in fear. "Damn right it's not small." Scooping her up in his hand, he dropped her into the confined space created by his crossed legs, letting the little gray, voluptuous figure scamper frantically about her prison. "Maybe you're not sure," he said softly, "maybe you need a closer look. It was dark in that club, and you were shitfaced drunk. Yeah, you just didn't see. I'm not small."

He spoke to himself, not her, lost in the revenge fantasy made possible by commercial cloning and a few greased wheels in the courts to set a precedent for the genetic marketplace, to creating everything from anthropomorphized animals to micro-versions of said anthropomorphics. Seizing the hapless doe mouse, he pressed her quivering form up against his sheath, rubbing her up and down the shaft of velvet fur, her thrashing limbs tickling the soft skin and sensitive tip.

"Just wait, it's gonna get bigger." He grunted while sliding up to the top as his member went ramrod straight to attention. "How's this?" He planted her atop his swelling bulb like a medieval impalement, the tip aimed up between her legs. "You wanted bigger, right? Here's bigger!" He pressed down; pressed in, faint squeals of pain going unnoticed by long, floppy ears.

To a grunt and a crack the rabbit climaxed, a mixture of white and red running between his fingers. After a minute's paused, he reached for a nearby box of tissues, cleaned off, then reached again for a cell phone, noting an unread message. Opening, his wide teeth split to a grin as he read, "last nght fn. Do agn?"

_ _

He drifted back to the previous night's date: the bar, the dancing, and best of all, the quick stop at the tryst clinic so both parties could take home a memento. It'd been her suggestion after all, a little scapegoat that could be the recipient of the other's negativity as a result of bad first impressions. "U bet," he typed back, hitting send and eager for a second date.

On the other side of town, in the apartment where the message was received, a gray mousette sat in an inch of bathtub water, her feet hanging off the tub's ivory sides. One hand spread her vagina while the other cupped about a trembling little white ball of fuzz, his little nose quivering as he stared into a pink cavern ready to engulf his velvety, squirming form.

"Loose," she inched her reluctant toy closer to her nethers as she spread further, a clear glistening forming in anticipation, her sapphire gaze still bearing the previous night's indignation and wounded pride. "You think I'm loose...

Coconut

Jake woke up in the dark with an itch he couldn't scratch. On his nose, no less. Something soft pinned his arms to his sides, soft and smooth like the linen sheets he'd given to his girlfriend, Mari, albeit mostly for his own enjoyment .Where I am? The last thing he remembered was the party, him drinking too much, passing out--then coming to tied up in pitch black with no clothes on and in some sort of tight, narrow closet leaned with plastic.

Jake struggled in his bindings to lean forward, his nose bumping against something of papery texture. He sniffed once. Then sniffed again to confirm he smelled what he smelled: a rich mixture of caramel, fruit, nuts and cocoa.

Did I get kidnapped by fucking Willy Wonka? Another sniff explained the itching--he was surrounded by coconut sprinkles, his dark brown fur the only protection from the allergen with his exposed nose less than lucky. Tied up and left in a dark space to slowly lose my nose to hives, who'd I piss off?

_ _

At that moment, a tremor jostled him, Jake's stomach flipping into his throat as his confinement shook. It seemed his circumstances weren't bad enough--now he was in an earthquake. "Hey!"

He called out, "come on, you can't leave me in here!"

Without warning, light spilled in, blinding him temporarily. From above, a feminine alto hummed pleasantly, "you're right, Jake, I can't leave you in there. I've waited for my treat long enough."

Blinking his eyes, Jake's vision cleared to reveal a splotch of red amidst the white background. Then that cleared too. "Mari!" He gasped. "You're a--I'm a--"

"You're a sleazebag," the red-furred vixen informed the thumb-height dog, her narrow, dainty muzzle turned up in a hateful scowl, emerald eyes flashing with hate born of injury. "I so wish that I could do the real Jake what I'm about to do to you."

Mari's curvy frame, normally a petite four foot three, now surpassed the colossi of the ancient world, her blond hair drawn long and straight in a cascade down her back. A black, lacey bra covered her grapefruit sized breasts in tandem with bikini-style panties with patterns of lotus flowers. Other than what covered her modesty, the rest of the outfit was transparent. "You gave these to me last year and I'm finally wearing them for you."

As his peripheral vision cleared, Jake slowly took in their surroundings: Mari's bedroom with its blue-painted walls and white curtains. He also saw more familiar gifts strewn about: a six-foot tall teddy bear he'd given her for her birthday, the linen sheets they'd played between countless times. Finally, Jake looked down to his immediate surroundings, to the plastic and paper coffin he was held in, seeing his prison at last. His blood turned cold.

_ _

I'm in a goddamned candy box!

Heart-shaped, and filled with a variety of chocolates and sweets, it was a gift he'd given to countless girls when low on cash or interest, one he'd given to Mari when satisfied that he had the key to her heart and the fly of her pants. A pink ribbon held him snugly in a black plastic cup, coffin-shaped and lined with wax paper. White flakes, surrounding Jake like an angel made in freshly fallen snow,

"I thought of putting you in the caramel-apple because you always take it for yourself--like so many other things." She smiled sweetly, sharp fangs flashing a toothy smile. "But then I remembered your issue with coconut and when they asked me how I wanted your tryst, I couldn't resist."

"I'm not a tryst!"

Mari laughed. "Oh? I guess I just had an early-twenties growth spurt."

"I never went to the clinic!"

"Not sober," she corrected. "Getting you to hold still in the brain-scanner while drunk was a bit tricky--and I had to slip a few extra bills in to get them to look the other way. But it's worth it, knowing I got the most recent version who remembers every last dirty secret."

"N-no I'm the real Jake!" He thrashed about in panic and insane denial. "I was starting quarterback in my senior year. I took my driving test in my dad's truck with the fading blue paint--I ran over Susie Jenkins's No-morph cat in it, and nobody knows that happened but me."

"And me, since you love bragging about your hot rod skills in the sack." Mari snorted. "Amusing as it is to see your smooth talk breaking down I'd rather you not go crazy, rather you understand what's happening." She placed her phone in front of the candy box, the screen displaying a social status update.

Jake, the real Jake, grinned wolfishly above the damning "in a relationship" button. The real Jake flashed a peace sign with one hand, while his other squeezed the shoulders of a bronze lioness, her lips pressed against his neck in a kiss. "You made it official today," she hissed. "But you were plowing Lori for months, weren't you?"

Thanks to the copied memories, his tryst imprinted from mere days ago, Jake did not even have the comfort of ignorance. "She means nothing to me," he offered weakly.

"No,I mean nothing to you." Mari's gaze hardened. "I was just candy, wasn't I? A pair of tits and an ass to grab when you were horny and couldn't get any other slut for a booty call. Well, let's see how you like being candy."

Then she reached down into the box, plucked out a square candy from the insert right next to Jake's and ate it. "Mmm, cherry." Razor-sharp, pointed teeth split the soft chocolate and fruit filling like the blood of prey. She chewed and swallowed in savoring, her eyes closed in near-orgasmic bliss before trailing her darkened tongue along her lips tantalizingly slow. "I'll try the coffee flavor next."

She went for the far end of the box, working her way methodically towards Jake from the tip of the heart to raise the anticipation. A post-breakup binge given a horrible new form, Mari consumed one small, individually packaged treat after another.

"Mari, please." Jake whimpered as he saw wrapper after wrapper emptied. "You--you're not, you can't eat me!"

Mumbling through a mouthful peanut brittle, she shrugged. "I did plenty of times, remember?" An index longer than Jake's body trailed lazily over his cell. Looming over the box, the vixen's half-naked torso hung overhead, the deepening valley of cleavage yawning to taunt Jake's fear-dampened libido, her sultry voice whispering deathly soft, "you always wanted me to swallow."

The nail of her claw sliced through the ribbon holding Jake. He tried to bolt, to spring to his feet and run, but with lightning vulpine reflexes, she snatched his coconut coated body up, the little lab whimpering and kicking while lifted high above her immense but still-dainty features.

"Worst part of all this?" Mari said softly, "I'm _still_in love with you." Within the emerald pools below, a shimmering gleam flickered, of tears held back by anger. "But I gotta move on." She tilted her head back, jaws parting. Below the hapless morsel rested a formerly pink carpet slicked with brown and black smears of her kills. "I've gotta let you go." Set free, Jake tumbled with an anguished howl into the awaiting maw.

Landing with a splat on the smooth chute of her tongue he slid with the tilt of her head towards the awaiting back of her throat. "Mari, no!" He flailed uselessly as her teeth closed around him with a clack. "Please, I-I'll change for you." Below him, her tongue rose like a living carpet to push the reluctant meal into the clenching gullet. "I swear I'll change!"

More madness. More denial. Had she even believed him--the laugh reverberating up her throat and rattling his body indicated she did not--she wanted the real Jake to love her again. Not his tryst. "I love you!" Jake wailed as he slid headfirst her throat.

With less ceremony than given the other sweets, Mari swallowed, hard, a kicking lump slightly visible in her throat for a briefest of moments as the vixen's ruff shifted before her slender neck settled back into place.

The coconut flavoring lingered on her tongue. She waited until it and Jake's taste had faded. Then, licking her lips and wiping a tear, she closed her empty heart and set to the task of boxing up the rest of Jake's hollow gifts.

Ball and Chain

The plastic tube rattled along the conveyor belt to deliver the condemned to their inevitable fate. Within the clear cylinder, capped at each by a screw-on plate with air holes, David sat in quiet anticipation, dreading what would prove a reunion and a first meeting all at once.

He remembered breaking up with Sarah as if it happened the previous day, meaning it probably had happened the previous day, along with her placing an order to have his DNA template, public domain in the eyes of the law, molded into a living voodoo doll.

Unlike other trysts who refused to accept reality--that they were a living being grown for another's consumption (literally, in some cases)--the orange furred cat had awoken in the plastic tube with air holes on top, taken one look at the Guilty Pleasure logo (a heart broken in two by a zigzagging bolt of lightning) and made a single word omission.

"Figures."

In order of post-breakup coping, buying a tryst of your ex to torture to death came after cutting their face out of all the photographs in the house but before burning their things in a bonfire of satisfaction. The revelation that a lifetime's worth of memories belonged to someone else and he'd only been alive for twenty-two hours did not, or at least had yet to mortify him with horror.

Or it may have been that he was less concerned with what he was, and more so with what would happen to him. He was not the original David but he was a David nonetheless, one capable of experiencing pain, joy, and fear--mostly fear.

_ _

Sarah would start trying to direct my breathing and telling me to drink some herbal tea. Try to set me on some new age street meditation.

David's chest drew in short, tight contracts, his yellow eyes peering into the dark at the end of the line, where other tubes with other small furred bodies vanished past thick plastic flaps hanging like the vines of some foreboding jungle. Some tea would be nice right now.

_ _

The belt made a sharp bend, slamming the tube to the wall but not stopping. It would have been too much to ask for the container to break, he thought, stomach leaping into his throat, as the tube pitched over the edge and down a chute to another, large belt snaking its way through the cavernous, automated processing center.

Upon the sea of rubber, other vessels drifted near. Other trysts, David saw their species as varied as their reactions. Some wept, some raged, many more were near-catatonic. Others looked to find a means of killing themselves--not an easy feat in their smooth containers empty of everything but themselves, the air holes too small to strangulate in.

In this day in age, everybody had enjoyed a tryst at some point or another and when they woke up shorter than they remembered, it was understandable that a few would want to leave on their own terms.

Such had been the fate of the tryst of a snow leopardess he'd dated in college, slitting her wrists with her own claws after (accurately) guessing that it would have been preferable to what he had planned. The clerk profusely apologized to David for the defective product, and within the week he'd received another version who failed to come up with the same idea.

A sharp jolt brought David back to the present as his tube rolled into a tall, green basket of the sort used to hold groceries. From above came a black furred hand larger than his entire body, wrapping about the tube and lifting him upward. A cat-morph like himself, black furred and almond eyed, grinned. "Well, looks like your product made it through the line in tip-top shape, Miss Bell."

A second hand appeared--one David recognized too well even at the extremes in scale. "Good to hear. I want my little Dave to look and feel just like the original_._" His stomach sank as he stared into the sapphire eyes of a black and white husky woman with short, cropped brown hair: Sarah Bell, an energetic lover with the stamina of a horse and the poise of a tigress. David knew this because he'd dated one of each before meeting her in community college.

She wore a tight-fitting purple singlet top and blue jeans, the form-fitting outfit showing only a tasteful portion of cleavage and lower midriff but leaving little to the imagination below the stretched fabric. David's mouth went dry--he certainly hadn't left her because she didn't know how to look sexy.

"I'm going to take him out," she said.

"Um, ma'am, management insists on payment first."

Her blue eyes in a cold stare. "I'm taking him out, then paying you, understand?"

Good luck arguing with her, kid. David wanted to snort, recalling his vain efforts to sway Sarah's mind. Once the pack leader made it up, it was made up, and she'd drag that sled where she pleased. The cat shrugged, and began ringing up the price, no doubt to cover his own tail if said management walked in.

David watched her nimble white fingers unscrew the cap. He braced himself against the sides as the tube tilted upward in the vain hope of not being shaken out, but a sharp tap on the base of the tube sent him tumbling out into her awaiting, snowy palm.

Propping up on his hands and knees, he watched her lick her lips, an action that could have been interpreted to foreshadow any number of horrendous pondering. She had him now, his life was hers. Eyeing the edge of her palm, he considered throwing himself off--but at two inches he was far too small for the plummet to be fatal.

Something brushed over his back and he jumped--one of Sarah's fingers poking and prodding him. "Same cute little tush," she purred lustfully, the tip of a nail tracing his right buttock. "The very one I got for you."

David swallowed, too frightened to speak beyond a shaking of the head and squeak of, "how could I forget? You made me do so many leg extensions and eat like a rabbit for a month."

"Well it shows," Sarah curled her fingers over top of his body to form a canopy. "You never liked to exercise or eat right, but it's paid off." She turned him about her hand while the other dug into her purse for her credit card and the coupon.

She's going to snuff me out, but she still criticizes me about my health. Drawing his knees to his chest, he watched her seal his fate with a swipe of plastic. It was done. He belonged to Sarah. Nothing could save him from whatever horrible fate she had planned as her parting gift to his memory.

Satisfied with her inspection, Sarah slipped David back into the tube and tightened the end cap once more. Then her hand snaked down to her top, slipping him down her chest, snuggling his prison between her compressed breasts. She could have at least taken me out first, he thought, disappointed, seeing the compressed walls of plush white smooshed tantalizingly along the sides.

But it soon became clear that whatever comeuppance Sarah had planned for him was to take place at home, the walk and ensueing drive passing in painful tedium. At several points in time, her breasts shifted about, to where David thought he'd be swallowed down her cleavage, but she'd judged the size of the container perfectly and both it and he remained snug and secure in her bra.

As she drove, Sarah hummed, drumming her fingers on the wheel and tuning the radio as if nothing were amiss, as if she did not have a miniscule replica of the man she'd once begged to marry her incapable of ever saying no to anything she asked. Meanwhile, David cringed at the new-age din blaring through the speakers, his implanted memories confirming that his original self hated being driven anywhere by Sarah for just the same reason.

_ _

After ten minutes of every offensive genre that could be crammed into a single mix tape, Sarah arrived at her home, a single-story house she'd taken to having painted white, a picket fence half-laid about the yard--the red flag that had sent David Prime running for the hills.

From there it was a trip he recalled all too well, up the stoop, through the doorway, down the hall with the Bell family photos and to the right and the end where her bedroom awaited. Fishing David's container out of her bra, Sarah set him onto the bed before pulling her clothing off, the motions quick and routine rather than her usual slow, sensuousness.

She's doing this for herself, not me anyway. Even so, David's libido warmed up as she went to her underwear, until she slid her hands up and down her lean, athletic frame, tousling up her hair in relaxation, a pretty sigh as her freed, pert breasts lifted, caressing her sides and flashing a striking smile that even now still melted him. "I bet you want out of there," she teased, tapping playfully against the tube, rattling his teeth in his skull.

Captivated by this towering siren, David nodded dumbly. "Well, I'll open it up," she giggled, twisting off the end as she had in the store. "But," Sarah waggled a finger, "you're going to have to do something for me before you get to come out."

"What could I possibly do for you in here?" David muttered, thinking it too soft to be heard.

He was wrong.

"I'm glad you asked. It's nothing new, really. "Grinning wolfishly, Sarah settled onto the bed, turning the tube open-end forward while keeping her thumb over the end to prevent an escape. Then in an unceremonious display, her legs slid apart, David's perfectly smooth, injury-proof container maneuvered between her trim thighs towards the thicker fur and pink vulva spread by her fingers, the husky girl's sex gaping hungrily.

"No," he whispered, eyes widening, "no, no, no!"

"What,now you want to wait?" The end of the tube met her lips. David scrambled back to the opposite side, watching pink cavern engulf the container inch by inch. "I saved myself for you." For the first time, he could hear scorn in Sarah's voice. "Well, now you have me. And if you won't get to it on your own..."

As outside, the tube tilted forward, David sliding down to the end and into Sarah. The angle remained slight in warning, wiggling back and forth, the air within growing hot and moist as a moan sounded from above. Logically, David knew it was pointless to do anything, that he was dead if he submitted and dead if he resisted.

The tube tilted up another degree and sank another centimeter. All logical arguments vanishing in gibbering desperation, David crawled down to the inserted end. Trembling, he placed his hands against the spongy, slick wall in front of him and began to rub. The stifling heat within the tube swelled to that of a rainforest, the scent of her arousal, a stream of clear liquid flowing in around him.

From far away and above came a moan, the quivering pink cavern shaking and clenching about the tube as Sarah's body sought to grab and clench down about his only protection against the unimaginable force. Their time at the gym flashed to mind, the thigh master she so dearly loved.

The tube bounced and David bounced with it, out into the pulsating flesh. Flailing in the dark, his every brushing movement euphoric stimulation, David tried to scramble backward into the tube, only to feel it slip away, pulled out of Sarah's nethers, leaving him alone and unprotected inside of her.

She wanted to feel him, feel all of him, and her walls squeezed mercilessly down upon the hapless cat who managed to think, she's the size of a building and still a tight fuck before the air was squeezed from his body, her relentless inner muscles bearing down as she rolled her hips and stimulated her outer lips in tune with his futile efforts to escape. Starved for air and battered about the shaking tunnel, David heard Sarah howling from above, as a simultaneous wave and quake rushed over him, spots dancing in his blurring vision until he expected to black out and never awake again.

But just when the cat thought he'd pop like a grape, a sharp pressure caught about his legs, drawing him from the grip of Sarah's nethers. Fresh air greeted David, he gulped it ravenously, coughing out spittle and release in alternate globs.

He passed above a summit of black and white, Sarah dangling him by his feet over her muzzle, a female colossus, a goddess with her mortal sacrifice. Head leaning back, her black lips turned up in a coy smile before, to David's immense horror, parting along with her jaws and sword-like teeth, her maw open and waiting as a tongue longer than he was tall lolled out to receive him like a treat.

The fingers released, and with a yowl--shit! She's eating _me!--_David landed upon Sarah's extended tongue, the muscle retracting slowly to bring him into her mouth as her teeth locked with a soft clack about his squirming form, her tongue pushing him to the roof as she began to suckle him, curling about his lower waist, sliding up along his member and package, squeezing and slurping him.

Ugh, he groaned, his back against the ribbed top of her mouth and palate, feeling his member grow erect, _I can't believe I'm hard!_Tasting his arousal, Sarah's attentions intensified, her tongue wrapping tighter, squeezing and rubbing until she tasted the salt of his release, David crying out in a strained mix of fear and euphoria in her mouth.

The tongue straightened, pushing him out past the sharpened rows of her curving fangs, slowly as if careful not to nip him. Would be faster if she just chomped me, he thought as he slid back out into her palm.

Sarah set him down, panting and gasping, between the furred hills of her breasts, her fluttering heart a percussive thunderstorm in the wide sternum below. "Can't you just end it already?" He mewled. "Why are you dragging it out? I never dragged it out this long for _my_trysts."

A serene calm befell Sarah as she rested back against the pillow, watching the cat shiver and tremble despite being buried in her lush fur. Several minutes passed like this, the odd couple gazing upon each other in rapt awe before she nodded in slight, personal satisfaction and wrapped her fingers gentle around David, lifting him up.

_ _

Here it comes. He gulped, knowing the look of personal satisfaction in her eyes, the same look he'd bore before disposing of his trysts once and for all. Nearing the end of his muzzle, he took grim solace in the fact that least he'd finally learn how she planned to end him after spending the whole afternoon in agonizing suspense.

"I love you, David." Sarah cooed, nuzzling his limp, moist body fondly, lost in blissful fulfillment. "I wish the real you could see how right we are together." She smiled sadly, "but this'll just have to do." She rolled over to the far end of the bed where a nightstand sat. A chill ran down David's spine as he saw what awaited him there.

"No," he murmured weakly as the revelation of his cruel fate sank in. "No, anything but that!"

Upon the nightstand sat a cage similar to those made for small pet animals and birds complete with litter and yes, even an exercise wheel. A water bottle hung in one corner next to a food dish awaiting choice-picked health foods to ensure Sarah's new plaything lived a long, healthy life.

"I promise to let you out once a day and" she winked, "maybe even once a night_if you're good." Sarah brightened as she opened the door to admit him inside, a precious toy to be kept safe and secure. "You know, David, I think this might actually be _better than getting married."