Like a fish to water

"I'm Special Agent Lloyd Golson", he put a playful smile on, while the gears kept grinding in his head, "but you can call me the Alabaster Anaconda like usual."

"Like u-usual?", the chief of police in his arms was only mildly confused, considering the fact, that she had no memories to the contrary. No memories at all to be precise, at least no clear ones.

"Cat, what are you talking about? You're starting to worry me, you know?"

The amnesiac was silently mouthing the word "Cat", taking her time with each letter, hoping to trigger any associations. And indeed, there was a vague silhouette appearing in front of her mind’s eye. A woman calling out to her, bright and giddy and-

Precisely in that moment Lloyd started lightly slapping her cheek. Luckily just in time to stop her from grasping that memory and holding on to it. Instead, it flew away from her like grains of sand from a broken hourglass.

"Cat", more pats to her cheek, followed by the hand put firmly on her forehead. Pressing firmly on the spot, that Lloyd had inadvertently knocked this muscled goddess out from, caused her to momentarily faze out and heat up. "You're a bit warm, are you feeling unwell?"

"Y-yeah, a bit under the w-weather I guess. Sorry, I'm drawing a few blanks here", Lloyd suppressed a chuckle from hearing an officer of the law talking about blanks.

"You had a stroke or something Cat? Next, you're gonna tell me, you don't know why I'm here", Lloyd mock-laughed at that. A sadness overcame Catherine, as indeed, she could remember neither herself, nor this strange man, let alone the reason for why either of them were here. A look around the room made her deduce that this was a police station. An office with a blue-grey color scheme, a door with clouded glass, level-5 ballistic-resistant windows on the eastern side and what seemed like commendations and awards on the right side. Catherine Meadows looked down at herself from her angled perspective and saw herself in some kind of uniform.

"I-I'm a policewoman", it wasn't even phrased as a question anymore, Chief Catherine Meadows was starting to puzzle the pieces together. And after speaking this out loud, her memories took up firmer shapes again. People saluting her, her shaking hands and-

"Yes, you're a policewoman", Lloyd encouraged her, "you're my policewoman."

The mirror Cat was seeing herself in before her mind’s eye, shattered into a thousand pieces. And Lloyd was more than willing to glue it back together by filling the gaps between those pieces.

"Your policewoman?", the now fragile-minded amazonian asked him, her eyes practically begging for an answer.

Lloyd looked down on the woman hoisted on his knee and sighed dramatically.

"This time when you fainted, you must have really hit your head Cat. This is a new one", chivalrously he helped her stand up and guided her towards the imposing chief’s desk.

"Here, take a seat", he pulled out the guest chair in front of the desk and after setting her down, walked around it and took a seat himself.

"Soooo", Lloyd stalled for time while looking around the room. Coming up with a story, coming up with a story, coming up with a story.... Ok, he should have some sort of previously established relationship to her. That's a given, otherwise he would hold no personal sway here. On the other hand, she's at least ten years older than him, so "childhood friends", is out of the question. Think Lloyd, think. She's a policewoman, right? And the receptionist downstairs said something of a special agent being ordered here from some higher-ups. So that's his cover story already. Which means in the scenario that the outside world sees, they are both law enforcement. So, a former "school mates" ruse is still on the table.

"Considering your sorry state, I should probably start with the basics", he nodded slowly towards her, urging her to copy him. Which she did. With furrowed brows she nodded towards him and wordlessly asked him to start from the top.

"So, your name is Catherine Meadows", Lloyd points his finger at her protruding tits. Luckily, he pointed more towards her right one and accidentally gestured towards her name tag. "And my name is Lloyd Golson."

The once high and mighty chief of police nods along, her eyes laser focused on him, to not miss a single detail about the situation. Her analytic mind was yearning for more intel, to figure this situation out. On the other hand though, her dedication and focus on his face, made her tune out the rest of the room, giving Lloyd the opportunity to scan the room and give all the little hints about her life a new framing. One, that would be as close to the original as to not rouse any suspicions and as far away from it as possible to please his increasingly corrupt desires.

"As was painfully obvious from our surroundings, we're in an office of a police station", he diminished her realization, which in all honesty was miraculous for someone who moments before suffered a concussion and at least temporary memory loss. "What you probably haven't figured out yet, is that this is your office as chief of the station", Lloyd rushed over this part to get to the next one, "and that I'm visiting here in my role as a special agent. Starting with the basics, we went to the academy together for a semester and while you got along rather fine", talking her into actual incompetency might result in a collapse of the station, "I excelled at it and was transferred away as a first year and straight into Quantico."

"From a short start at the police academy, right into the FBI training facilities?!", the amnesiac chief, was dumbfounded.

"Oh yes, before leaving for the big leagues, I took you under my wing and taught you all you know. That's why you not only passed the academy, through my tutelage, you even passed it with flying colors. You're welcome, Cat", Lloyd motioned towards the diploma on the wall, siphoning away her former pride in herself she felt from all she had achieved onto himself as the tutor who in a few months tops prepared her for all she needed to know about police work and crime fighting.

"And Cat is my nickname from our time as recruits, huh?", her face brightened up as more and more fragments fell into place, at least kind of.

"Kind of", then, like in any good improv theater, Lloyd was looking for his next cue to go with and his eyes landed on the trophy showing a muscled female arm ending in a half-closed grip. With a bit of imagination, another hand would fit in it, like in the epic handshake meme. That or...

"You actually had that nickname already when we met at the academy. The story you told everyone asking was, that it was a shortening of your name, but it didn't even take me an evening to tickle the truth out of you."

The mischievous smile on his lips made Catherine Meadows grow a tint of red in her face. An almost maiden-esque look, that seemed deliciously misplaced on an amazonian bombshell that could crush a man's skull as much between her hands as well as between her breasts.

"Now Cat, you can't tell me you forgot how you earned that moniker?"

"Sorry, I'm still a bit shaky, can you jog my memory?"

"Well, it's just the two of us here, so I guess I can be candid. You earned that from giving wicked handjobs in your wild years", that answer raised more questions in Cat than it answered, "I see you even kept that trophy they gave you in that bar after the spring break contest."

He pointed across the room and her eyes found the arm-wrestling trophy that had been a sign of her physical prowess and female strength. Now though, it was a sign of.... skill at jerking off men?

"I guess someone that's unobservant could be fooled into thinking that's for - I don't know - Bare-knuckle boxing? Or something."

"Arm wrestling maybe?", she asks more to herself than to Lloyd.

"Yeah sure, that's also a good cover up story Cat. You're a natural at that, hiding your naughty side in plain sight", some backhanded praise that the chief took into her very core.

"And that's how I got my nickname?", it didn't elude Cat, that so far it didn't make a whole lot of sense. Although if she would have been in control of her senses, she would immediately have regretted asking a question with this corresponding answer.

"Of course, that's where your gimmick kicked in. You know", Lloyd brought his hands up to his face, made them limp and mimicked a cat, "from licking your paws. Cleaning your hands thoroughly with your tongue was your trademark."

Even after the head trauma and memory loss, Catherines pliable mind wasn't ready to accept something like this right now. What was this man talking about?! Licking her paws... as a result of her being a freaky handjob maschine? Her face paled a bit and she prepared to voice her discomfort and disbelief. Lloyd who was spinning that lie further in his head, embelishing that ridicoulous story to twist the formerly stern-minded chief of police, picked the perfect time to interrupt her mental reassembly.

"I remember it like it was yesterday, when you told me in private where you got that trophy from. You came into that bar two cities over from your hometown and got stuck there for a week. You came in just for a few drinks, to let loose, but about two bottles of tequilla later, you were crawling on the ground, dishing out handjobs and licking those sticky rewards up, no matter where they landed. The crawling, sure, that led to you being called the bars kitty, but licking that milk from your face and hands, that's where your path was dead-set on the feline persuasion. And even though you didn't tell anyone your name, they picked the nickname that perfectly fits your shortened name. They could have also called you kitty, or puss-puss. But Cat ironically was really close to your real name. What a lucky cat, huh?"

So much to her mind resisting, with the perfect timing, Lloyd had now actually cemented the origin story of "Cat" and created a fixed persona in her mind. Now, when Catherine tried to remember her past, her mind showed her images of herself crawling over sticky floors in a sleezy bar, navigating puddles of cum and after licking those up with her tongue, starring up to the cocks they originated from. Cock... Somehow her mind failed to generate a clear image of a penis, instead only giving her a rough shape that looked sober and almost medical. Almost as if her experience with the male reproductive organ was more formal and academic, rather than close and personal.

"M-meow?", the chief of police, Catherine Meddows, a woman of amazonian strength and size, gave out with an akward chuckle.

"Precisely", Lloyd absendmindedly akowledged her giving in to his outlandish ruse, while scanning the room for further corruption.

Next, next, next. Oh, a marriage certificate? That might complicate things...

Deep in devious thought, Lloyd rested his elbow on the table and mimicked the Thinker. Without noticing it, the tip of his elbow pressed down precisely one of the buttons on the rim of the chiefs desk.