Kitty 3

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 living room instead of the bedroom, still bright and focused.

“I have a surprise,” she says against your mouth. “I texted him from the club. He is already here. He likes girls in costumes. He especially likes the ones who turn out to be soft little sissies underneath.”

The words land just as a tall Black man steps out of the hallway. Jamal is broad, solid, wearing simple black clothes that do nothing to hide the size of him. He looks you over slowly, eyes moving from the cat ears down the deep neckline, over the short romper, the pantyhose, the heels, and finally settling on the completely smooth front.

“This is the one?” he asks Sofia, voice low and amused. “Cute. Tail and everything. You were right about the front. Nothing there.”

Sofia giggles and keeps an arm around your waist. “I told you. All night I kept feeling for a bulge and there was never one. Soft little cat. I figured you would want to meet her.”

Jamal steps closer. He is much taller than you in the heels. He reaches out and rests a large hand on your hip, then slides it forward to press firmly against the flat front of the romper. His palm covers everything. He rubs once, slow, feeling the gaff and the modest cock trapped underneath.

“Yeah. That is a sissy. Little thing is already hard in there. I can feel it trying.” He looks at Sofia. “You want to unwrap it or should I?”

“You do it,” she says, still smiling. “I want to watch the first time you see what she has been hiding.”

Jamal does not rush. He turns you around, peels the romper straps down your shoulders, then further, until the breast forms are free and the gaff is the only thing left. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls it down.

Your modest cock springs free, hard, flushed, smaller than average, the head already wet and shiny.

Jamal lets out a low laugh. “There it is. Little sissy clit. Cute. No wonder the costume stayed so smooth all night.” He wraps one large hand around it. His fingers completely engulf the shaft. He gives a slow stroke and watches your face. “Look at that. Fits in my hand with room to spare. You brought me a real one, Sof.”

Sofia moves in beside him, still in the Supergirl top and boots, and looks down at your cock with open delight. “I knew it would be small. The way she moved, the way the romper sat. I told you I was bringing you a sissy tonight.”

Jamal keeps stroking, thumb sliding over the wet head. “She is already leaking. Little thing likes being shown off. Get on your knees, cat. Both of us want a better look while you stay hard.”

You drop. The pantyhose and heels make the position feel even more exposed. Jamal and Sofia stand over you. He keeps your modest cock in his hand, stroking it with casual, almost dismissive pulls while Sofia runs her fingers through your hair and straightens the cat ears.

“She is soft,” Sofia says. “All night she let me buy the drinks and touch her and tug the tail. Never once tried to take control. Perfect for you.”

Jamal nods. He lets go of your cock and starts unbuckling his belt. The sound is loud in the quiet apartment. When he pushes his pants down his cock is already hard, thick, dark, and long enough that the head hangs heavy. The size difference is extreme. He wraps a hand around the base and gives it a slow stroke while looking at your smaller one.

“See the difference?” he asks you. “That is why Sofia texted me. Little sissy cock like yours is only good for one thing. Being ignored while a real one gets used. Open your mouth.”

Sofia’s hand in your hair guides you forward. Jamal rests the heavy head on your tongue. The weight and the heat are immediate. He does not push yet. He simply lets you feel it while Sofia keeps talking.

“She has never had one like this,” Sofia says, watching your face. “Look at her eyes. Soft little cat spent all night grinding on me and now she is on her knees learning what she is actually for.”

Jamal starts slow. He feeds the thick cock into your mouth an inch at a time, letting you adjust, then pulling back, then pushing deeper. Sofia stays right beside him, one hand still in your hair, the other occasionally reaching down to give your modest cock a short, teasing stroke that keeps it hard and neglected.

“Deeper,” she says. “She can take more. I watched her drink everything I bought her tonight. She can handle this.”

Jamal pushes further. The thick head presses into your throat. You gag once. He holds still and waits while Sofia strokes your hair.

“Breathe through it,” she says. “Good girl. That is what the costume was for. Looking pretty and soft until someone like him puts you on your knees. Keep the tongue moving. He likes that.”

Jamal builds a steady rhythm, using your mouth with controlled thrusts while Sofia comments on every detail. She talks about how small your cock looks next to his. She talks about how the slutty cat outfit had convinced her all night that she had found something soft enough to share. She reaches down every so often and gives your modest length a few firm strokes, just enough to keep it dripping, never enough to let you get close.

“Little thing is so hard,” she says, squeezing it. “It knows it does not measure up. That is why it stays stiff while you choke on the real one. Perfect sissy reaction.”

Jamal pulls out of your mouth after a while, a string of spit connecting your lips to the thick head. He looks at Sofia. “Bed. I want her on her back so you can sit on her face while I use the other end.”

They move you together. Sofia peels the rest of the romper and the pantyhose down, leaving you in the heels, the ears, and the open costume. She climbs up and settles her pussy over your mouth without ceremony. “Lick. You spent all night getting me worked up. Finish it while he takes care of the rest.”

Jamal lifts your hips, coats himself with lube from a bottle that was already waiting, and presses the thick head against your ass. He pushes in slow but relentless. The stretch is intense. Your modest cock jerks hard against your stomach as he sinks deeper. Sofia grinds on your tongue and keeps talking.

“There it is. Little cat taking a real cock while she eats me. Look at how small her dick stays even while she is getting filled. It is almost cute. Keep licking. He is going to fuck the sissy out of you and I want to come on your tongue while he does it.”

Jamal bottoms out and starts thrusting. Deep, steady strokes that rock you into Sofia with every movement. Your modest cock leaks steadily onto your stomach, the small length bouncing with the force of his hips. Sofia reaches back and wraps her fingers around it, stroking in time with his thrusts, her grip tight and controlling.

“So little,” she says, voice breathy now. “I can feel it twitching in my hand every time he bottoms out. Soft little sissy cock getting stroked while a real one ruins the ass it belongs to. You like that? Being shared like this after I bought all your drinks?”

You moan into her. The sound is muffled and helpless. Jamal fucks you harder, the thick shaft stretching you open on every stroke. Sofia keeps the grip on your cock and the pressure on your mouth until her thighs tighten and she comes with a low, satisfied sound, grinding through it while she squeezes your modest length.

“Good girl,” she breathes. “Stay hard. He is not done and neither are you.”

Jamal does not slow down. He keeps the deep rhythm, one large hand on your hip, the other braced on the bed, using your body with steady power while Sofia stays sitting on your face and playing with the small cock that has no chance of competing. The dual sensation and the constant commentary push you toward the edge fast. Your modest cock throbs in her hand. She feels it and laughs softly.

“Already? Little thing is going to come just from getting fucked and stroked while I sit on her face? Do it. Come with that tiny cock while he fills the rest of you. Show us how a sissy finishes.”

The permission and the size difference and the thick cock driving into you snap the last of your control. Your orgasm hits hard and helpless. The modest cock pulses in her fist, spilling weak spurts across your stomach while your ass clenches around Jamal. He groans and follows a few thrusts later, burying himself deep and flooding you with thick heat you can feel in your gut.

They stay like that for a long moment, Sofia still on your face, Jamal still buried, your small cock still twitching through the last drops in her hand. When they finally pull away you are left on the bed in the open cat costume, heels still on, ears crooked, stomach sticky, ass leaking, mouth wet, the modest cock soft and spent against your thigh.

Sofia leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, tasting herself. “Best cat I ever brought home. Jamal likes you. That means you get to stay a while.”

Jamal gives your soft cock a casual, dismissive pat. “Little sissy did good. Next time we put a cage on it so it cannot even try to get hard while I use the rest of her.”

They clean up with practical ease, then pull you between them on the bed. Sofia keeps one hand resting over the soft sticky cock, as if she wants to keep reminding herself how small it was and how easily they used everything else. Jamal’s heavy arm stays across your waist.

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

Slutty cat deployment successful. Shared use with hung partner produced full orgasm under size comparison and dual stimulation. Subject remained compliant and verbal focus on sissy role elevated shame-arousal markers. Data logged.

You lie between them in the ruined cat costume pieces, the thick ache still present, the taste of Sofia still on your tongue, the memory of Jamal’s cock still stretching you, and feel the entire night settle into your body as the exact reason she kept buying the drinks.