A Sissy Kitty

The Algorithm serves the option after you tell it you want something playful and obvious. Black romper, deep neckline, clip-on tail, cat ears, sheer black pantyhose, little paw gloves. You add the gaff, the soft breast forms, makeup, and black heels. The Algorithm answers with one line. High visibility. High approach rate. Proceed.

The night of the party you prepare carefully. Shaving is thorough. The tuck locks your modest cock flat until the front of the romper sits perfectly smooth. The breast forms give the deep neckline a soft curve. Makeup softens your face. The black wig frames it. When you pull the romper on, attach the tail, settle the ears, and slide into the pantyhose and heels, the mirror shows exactly what the costume promised. Sexy. Available. The smooth front hides the small secret completely. Your cock is already half-hard inside the gaff from the sight alone.

The club is loud and packed, a dedicated Halloween costume night with colored lights cutting through fog and bass that vibrates in your chest. You step inside and the slutty cat outfit does immediate work. Eyes find the legs in sheer pantyhose, the short romper, the tail, the ears. You move toward the bar, order something sweet, and try to find a rhythm in the heels.

She finds you first.

Sofia is impossible to miss. Tall, blonde, the Supergirl costume fitted tight across a real chest and narrow waist, the skirt short enough to match the energy of the room, red boots that put her a little above you even in your heels. The cape sits perfect on her shoulders. She stops in front of you, looks the cat costume up and down, and smiles wide.

“Okay, that is unfair,” she says, voice bright over the music. “The tail, the pantyhose, the whole thing. You look too good to be standing here alone. Let me buy you a drink.”

It is not really a question. She already has her card out and is waving the bartender over. She orders for both of you without asking what you want, something strong and sweet, and hands you the glass with a grin.

“To the best cat at this party,” she says, clinking her glass against yours. “And to me for finding her first.”

You drink. The alcohol is warm and immediate. She stays close, one hand resting lightly on your waist while she talks over the music. The romper is so short that her fingers rest on bare skin above the pantyhose. Your cock hardens inside the gaff at the contact. The modest length presses against the tight fabric with nowhere to go.

She buys the next round too. And the one after that. Every time the glasses empty she is already signaling for more. She keeps you on the floor between drinks, dancing close, laughing every time the tail swings or the ears bounce.

“You are really good at this,” she says near your ear as the lights sweep across both of you. “Most people in cat costumes just stand there and look cute. You actually move. I like it. Keep drinking. I am not done with you yet.”

The drinks keep coming. She pays for all of them. The room softens around the edges. Her hands stay on your hips, your lower back, the curve of your ass through the thin fabric. She tugs the tail more than once for fun. Each tug makes your trapped cock throb. She never lets you reach for your own wallet.

“My treat all night,” she says when you try. “I saw you first. That means I get to keep you hydrated and happy. Dance.”

Hours pass like that. Drink, dance, drink again. She stays with you the entire time. Other people try to cut in and she waves them off with an easy smile and another round of shots she has already paid for. Your modest cock leaks steadily inside the gaff. The small size makes every brush of her body feel concentrated and urgent. By the time the club starts to thin she is still pressed against you, still buying, still touching you like the night belongs to the two of you.

She looks at you under the lights, cheeks flushed from dancing and alcohol, and says, “Come home with me. I have more drinks there and I am not ready to let the cat go. Say yes.”

“Yes,” you answer.

You go.

Her apartment is only a short ride away. The second the door closes she is on you again, kissing you hard, hands already under the romper straps, tugging the cat ears askew. She tastes like the drinks she kept buying. She walks you backward toward the bedroom, still bright and focused.

“I have been thinking about this since the second drink,” she says against your mouth. “Costume on for now. I want to see how far I can take the night before anything comes off.”

She pushes you onto the bed and climbs up after you, still in the full Supergirl outfit. She kisses you deeper, one hand sliding down the front of the romper. Her palm presses against the smooth plane where your modest cock is trapped and hard. She does not comment on the lack of any real bulge. She simply keeps kissing you while her hand explores the flatness.

Then she sits back on her heels, looks at you for a long moment, and reaches under the short Supergirl skirt.

What she pulls out is not what the costume suggested.

Her cock is already hard, thick, long, and heavy in her hand. The size of it is startling against the feminine lines of the Supergirl top and the blonde hair and the pretty face. She strokes it once, slow, and watches your expression.

“Surprise,” she says, voice still bright but lower now. “This is what I have been thinking about putting in your mouth since I bought you that first drink. You went quiet. First time seeing one like this?”

You stare. Your own modest cock throbs hard inside the gaff at the sight. The contrast is extreme. You manage a small nod.

“I have never done this,” you admit, voice soft. “Any of it. Not with a girl who has one. Not with anything that size.”

Sofia’s smile widens. She keeps stroking the thick shaft, the head already shiny.

“That is okay. I like teaching. Especially when the student spent all night in a slutty cat costume letting me buy the drinks and grind on her. Come closer. On your knees on the bed. I am going to show you exactly how to do this.”

You move. The pantyhose and heels make the shift awkward. She stays kneeling in front of you, Supergirl skirt flipped up, the enormous cock standing out from her body in a way that makes your mouth feel dry.

“First rule,” she says, guiding your head with one hand. “You look at it. You do not look away. This is what you are going to be learning on. Open your mouth.”

You open. She rests the heavy head on your tongue. The weight of it is immediate. The taste is clean and skin-warm. She does not push yet.

“Just the head for now. Close your lips around it. Tongue underneath. Good. That is the starting point. You have a pretty mouth. It looks better with cock in it already.”

She keeps the pressure light while you adjust. Your modest cock is leaking steadily inside the gaff, the small length fully hard from the combination of the size in your mouth and the calm way she is instructing you.

“Breathe through your nose,” she continues. “When I push deeper you are going to relax your jaw and let it happen. I am not going to choke you on the first try. But I am also not going to stop at the tip all night. Ready?”

You make a sound around her. She takes it as yes and slides forward another inch. Then another. The thick shaft spreads your lips wide. She watches every reaction.

“There. That is halfway. You are doing fine for someone who has never done this. Keep the tongue moving. Little strokes under the head while I hold still. Yes. Like that. You feel how heavy it is? That is what a real cock feels like on your tongue. Not whatever little thing you have tucked under that romper.”

The comment lands and your own cock jerks inside the gaff. She notices the tiny shift of your hips and smiles.

“Yeah. I felt the front of that costume all night. Smooth. Soft. I knew whatever was under there was not going to compete. That is why I kept buying the drinks. Soft little cat with a soft little secret. Now you get to learn what to do with the real version.”

She starts a slow rhythm, feeding more of the thick cock into your mouth with each careful thrust. She never goes deeper than you can handle, but she also never lets you back off completely. One hand stays in your hair, guiding. The other strokes the shaft where your lips cannot reach yet.

“Hollow your cheeks a little when I pull back. Suck on the way out. Good. Again. You are a fast learner for a first-timer. Most people panic when they see the size. You just opened your mouth and let me teach you. That is hot.”

Your jaw starts to ache in the best way. Spit runs down the shaft. She uses it as lube for the strokes of her hand. Every time she pushes forward the head presses toward the back of your tongue. She talks the entire time, calm and precise, correcting the angle of your head, the placement of your tongue, the timing of your breathing.

“Eyes up. Look at me while you suck it. I want to see the little cat who let me buy all her drinks now learning how to take cock. There. That face. Perfect. Deeper now. You can take more. Relax. Let it in.”

She pushes further. The thick head breaches the back of your tongue and presses into your throat. You gag once. She holds still and waits.

“Breathe. You are okay. That was the hard part. Now stay there for a second. Feel how full your mouth is. That is most of it. Your little throat is doing so well for a first time.”

She pulls back, lets you breathe, then slides in again to the same depth. The rhythm builds slowly. She never rushes. She simply teaches, stroke by stroke, until your lips are stretched around the thick base and your nose is brushing the smooth skin above it on every other thrust.

“Good girl,” she says, the words soft and deliberate. “Look at you. Slutty cat costume still on, pantyhose, tail, ears, and a throat full of cock you had never seen before tonight. I am proud of you. Keep sucking. I am getting close and I want to finish on that pretty tongue so you can taste what you earned.”

Your modest cock is throbbing so hard inside the gaff that the small length hurts. The front of the romper is damp from the inside. You keep your mouth working exactly the way she has taught you, tongue moving, cheeks hollowed, eyes up. She strokes the remaining inches with her hand and watches your face.

“I am going to come,” she says, voice tighter now. “You are going to stay still and take it on your tongue. Do not swallow until I say. I want to see it.”

She pushes deep one last time, holds, and then the thick cock pulses hard against your tongue. Hot cum floods your mouth in several heavy spurts. She keeps your head in place until the last pulse finishes, then pulls back just enough so the final drops land on your tongue and lips.

“Show me,” she says.

You open your mouth. She looks at the mess and smiles.

“Perfect. Now swallow. All of it. Good little cat. That was your first lesson and you passed.”

She sits back, cock still half-hard and shiny, and looks at the wet front of your romper with open amusement.

“Your turn is not happening tonight,” she says. “That little thing under the costume got to stay locked up and leak while you learned. That is enough for a first time. Next time I might let you touch it while you suck me. Or I might not. Depends how well you remember the lessons.”

She leans down and kisses you, tasting herself on your tongue, then pulls the cat ears straight on your head with a small smile.

“You did good. Better than most people who say they have never done this. Stay the night. In the morning I might teach you what to do when I am hard again. Or I might just make you watch while I take care of it myself. Either way, the cat is sleeping here.”

You stay.

The Algorithm’s message arrives sometime before dawn, quiet on your phone on the nightstand.

Slutty cat deployment successful. First-time oral training under size disparity produced full compliance and elevated arousal markers. Subject remained locked and untouched throughout. Data logged for future instruction scenarios.

You lie in her bed in the ruined cat costume pieces, the taste of her still thick on your tongue, your modest cock still hard and neglected inside the gaff, and feel the entire night settle into your body as the first lesson you did not know you were going to receive.