Dave engages in normal conversation

Dave: "Oh, hi Sophie. You're lookin' sightly today. Where you off to, I thought your shift only started?"

Sophie: "...Nowhere. Hey is everything alright, has anything strange happened lately?"

Dave: "No..."

The robust blue-collar man scratches his head in confoundment.

Dave: "... But now that you mention, I'm at a loss of what I was doing here. My cubicle is two floors up and I don't even remember coming down. Must be losing my mind..."

Dave saunters off, shaking his head. It seems that you were right - only your feline features twist people's knickers. Not only that, but the insane behaviour causes selective amnesia. As you're about to head off on your way, you trip forwards, causing your papers to spill on the floor.

Dave: "Oh, let me just help you with thos-"

Sophie: "NO, NO! It's perfectly fine I... I..."

Your selfies were a mild aphrodisiac when viewed individually. But seeing them all strewn on the floor like a pot of hot gazpacho made of sex is too much. All of your rationale evaporates into thin air as you succumb to the insanity and begin to needily dry hump the floor. You near-instantly wet your panties with love fluids as David assaults your protruding butt.

His hands are loving and thorough, his breath hot on your neck. Your softball-boobs smoosh against the hard linoleum floor as Dave kneads his crotch against your torso. Your tail perks up from the stimulation and rips through your clothes, the hard denim of your jeans providing only feeble resistance against its might.

Dave, now face full of soft fluffy catgirl tail, is almost amidst a religious experience. His body and mind cannot even in tandem express the sheer amount of joy and pleasure he is in. Less a kid in a candy store and more like a subject before his Goddess, Dave doesn't know what to do.

Thankfully, Dave's body decides for him. All the hairs on his body raise up as a mystical **** grips his insides. An unthinkably blissful transformation begins, bulging out his already admirable physique beyond that of professional bodybuilders. The bulge in his pants eagerly repeats your earlier stunt by disposing of his uniform slacks with a single mighty burst of power.

As David rips off your clothes and pins you down, you're so blinded by arousal that you fail to see rugged yellow and brownish fur forming on his hands. You only pay notice after about two hundred thrusts later as he proudly roars upon cumming.

A few onlookers have gathered, but they're no more interested in you than in your photos, still scattered on the floor. Any who come too close get driven off by the territorial Dave.

You and Dave obviously get fired, but calling it a slap on the wrist seems like an understatement. You've got a supermodel catgirl's body, a hunky tiger hubby, and any of your photos can fetch for hundreds of dollars as a longer-lasting alternative to Viagra.

ENDING 22 -Cat's Life-