A year passes.

That was a year ago. I spend a lot of time in solitary confinement, since I have a nasty habit of making out with anyone who's handy. I'm afraid the vibrator's nigh constant teasing has taken a toll on my mind. I haven't had an orgasm once since being sealed in the costume, and it's almost all I think about. It takes conscious effort to keep from writhing in need.

But there is one thing that keeps me hopeful. About three months ago I started to have a visitor. It was the man Belli called "The Doc," the one who had put this thing on me. I'm not sure yet whether his conscience was bothering him, or he got off on seeing me this way. Either way, he kept coming back. He mentioned during one of his visits that Belli had a daughter, and a plot began to form in my mind.

I won't be trapped forever, and Belli is going to find out that this cat has claws.