Kitty cat & Work out

Stocking walked into the living room like nothing had happened.

No fluster. No awkward cough. No mention of the catfight-turned-makeout session that had just exploded in her bedroom like a reality TV episode with too much glitter and too little shame.

She passed behind the couch where Brief sat, his face still burning hot, posture stiff like he’d just been told to recite the entirety of the Constitution naked in front of the class.

She yawned. Stretched.

Her massive chest strained the front of her gothic dress like it was made of cling wrap.

Then, casually, she opened the fridge and bent down.

Brief didn’t mean to look.

“...Why are you sitting like you just saw a ghost and got scolded by your grandmother in the same second?”

Brief swallowed. “N-no reason. Just… recovering.”

She popped the can open with a hiss. “From what?”

He didn’t answer.

Stocking took another slow sip from the can, the pssshht of carbonation fading as she let out a small, contented hum.

Brief sat frozen on the couch, eyes glued to the TV that wasn’t even on.

Then she glanced at him, one hip popped, soda still in hand.

“You want anything?”

“I’m good,” he answered a little too fast, voice tight.

She shrugged and flopped down on the other end of the couch, her striped stockings crossing lazily as she sighed. Her eyes wandered across the room, unfocused, like she wasn’t really looking at anything at all.

“This place is kind of big, huh?” she said softly.

Brief blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “Yeah. Kinda… echo-y.”

Stocking gave a dry little laugh. “Yeah. It gets lonely in here sometimes.”

He tilted his head. “You ever think about getting a pet or something? You know, for company?”

She gave him a curious glance. “Like… a cat?”

Before he could answer, Kuromi’s voice chirped from her usual perch on the shelf.

“But there’s already a cat here.”

Brief turned slowly, confused. “What cat—”

Then turned back.

And nearly died.

Standing where Stocking had been just moments ago, now posed on all fours on the couch, was a very different creature.

Stocking… no, Catgirl Stocking, blinked at him innocently with glossy purple eyes.

She wore a barely-there, black-and-purple cat lingerie set that did nothing to hide her curves and everything to make his brain short-circuit. A fluffy tail peeked out from the back of her skimpy panties. Her hands and feet were adorned with fuzzy black paw-gloves and soft paw-slippers, and a velvet choker with a silver bell jingled gently as she tilted her head.

“Meow~” she purred, voice sweet and deadly.

Brief’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “W-wha—you—h-how—?!”

“I take my duties as a pet very seriously,” Kuromi added in her usual calm tone, now swinging her legs from the shelf like she was enjoying a show.

Catgirl Stocking arched her back, stretching with an exaggerated yawn that pushed her chest forward and tail high in the air.

“I’m a good kitty, aren’t I~?” she asked, blinking slowly.

Stocking had barely perched herself on Brief’s lap—her fluffy paws neatly tucked under her, tail flicking lazily behind her—when Kuromi’s voice chimed in with eerie cheer:

“A pet must be properly pampered. Gentle strokes, firm affection.”

Brief’s hands hovered awkwardly in the air like he was trying to defuse a bomb.

“I-I don’t know how to pet a catgirl!” he blurted.

Stocking blinked up at him through her thick lashes, ears twitching under the headband. “Then learn. I’m waiting, nerd.”

With trembling fingers, he reached up and gave the top of her head the most tentative pat in existence.

Stocking leaned in just a bit, her cheeks slightly flushed. “That’s not petting. That’s hovering like a mosquito.”

“Behind the ears is a sensitive spot,” Kuromi offered.

Brief gulped and moved his hand lower, gently rubbing the soft space behind Stocking’s ears. Her eyes fluttered half-shut, and she made a sound that was unmistakably a purr.

“You’re getting better...” she mumbled, shifting subtly in his lap.

Unfortunately for Brief, that meant more squish. Her plush thighs rested snugly against his, her chest—uncontained as ever in the feline ensemble—pressed lightly against his torso.

“Keep going. She’ll let you know when she’s satisfied,” Kuromi said ominously.

Just as Brief was starting to find some kind of rhythm to his petting—a balance between soft strokes and not totally freaking out—Stocking’s eyes slid open, drowsy but mischievous.

“I’m thirsty,” she purred.

Before Brief could even react, Kuromi chimed in:

“A proper pet deserves a proper treat. A fresh bowl of milk is customary.”

Brief blinked. “What… like… actual milk?”

In response, Stocking simply stood up—her cat tail swinging—and sauntered over to the coffee table where a small bowl was already placed, as if summoned by Kuromi herself.

“Fill it,” Stocking said, kneeling down in front of it. “C’mon, I’ve been good.”

Brief hesitated, watching her position herself on all fours, fluffy paws resting neatly on either side of the bowl. Her back arched just a little too perfectly. The shirt she’d thrown over her catlingerie barely covered anything, leaving her black lace panties almost entirely on display.

“Is… is this really necessary?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Affection must be rewarded,” Kuromi replied, “Or they grow restless.”

Stocking looked over her shoulder at him with wide, innocent eyes. “You wouldn’t want me to get restless, would you?”

Defeated, Brief poured some milk into the bowl from the fridge and handed it to her.

That’s when chaos struck.

She bent low to lap it up—without using her hands, of course—and accidentally knocked the bowl off the table with her “paws.” Milk splashed in all directions, coating the rug… and splashing directly down the front of her.

“Oops,” Stocking said, sitting back on her knees, now glistening with milk. The thin fabric of her outfit clung wetly to her chest and stomach.

Brief’s brain blue-screened.

“Oh no,” Kuromi added with a singsongy tone. “She’s made a mess. You should help her clean up… with your tongue.”

Brief screamed internally.

Stocking just raised an eyebrow. “You gonna stand there and ogle, or are you gonna fix what you started, lapdog?”

Brief froze, eyes wide, staring at the glistening mess of milk soaked into Stocking’s outfit. She sat on her heels, her tongue flicking out to swipe a droplet from her upper lip, pretending to be oblivious to how soaked and suggestive her entire front had become.

“You heard her,” Kuromi cooed from the armrest, “Be a good boy and clean her up. Use your mouth. It’s only polite.”

Brief laughed nervously. “I–I think she was joking… right? Right?”

Stocking tilted her head. “Mmm… was I?” she said, her voice light and syrupy. Then she stretched her arms back, letting her chest press forward, causing the soaked top to stick tighter to her curves. “Guess it depends how far you’re willing to go, pervert.”

He gulped.

“Just… start small,” he muttered to himself, crouching beside her. “Maybe she’ll laugh and say it’s a prank.”

He leaned forward, heart thumping like a war drum. His lips hovered just above a spot of milk on her collarbone. She smelled like vanilla, cotton candy… and something dangerously warm. He stuck out his tongue—

“He’s really doing it,” Kuromi said proudly. “Very obedient. Very brave.”

His tongue made contact.

Stocking didn’t move. Her expression didn’t change. Not at first.

Then, she giggled. Giggled.

He pulled back in horror, but she grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face deeper into the top of her chest. “You missed a spot, dweeb.”

The top of his head smacked into something soft and warm. Milk was everywhere. So was panic.

“Good technique,” Kuromi chimed sweetly, “But don’t get greedy.”

Brief pulled away like he’d touched a hot stove, stammering, lips wet with milk and shame. Stocking sat there, smug and dripping.

“Didn’t expect you to actually do it,” she whispered, batting her lashes. “How bold. You’re such a naughty catboy in disguise.”

Brief had just begun to feel safe again. Stocking was curled up on one side of the couch in her cat-themed getup—black and violet lingerie trimmed with bows, soft paw-gloves idly batting at her plush tail. Her ears twitched lazily as she sipped milk from a bowl with a slow, satisfied sigh.

Then, everything changed.

She froze mid-lick. Her pupils dilated.

“Wait…” she whispered, voice suddenly sharp. “Where’s Mister Nibbles?”

Brief blinked. “Who?”

“My favorite plush bat,” she growled, already shifting to all fours. “The one on a string! With the little skull bow! Where is he?!”

From her perch on the coffee table, Kuromi chimed in, far too calmly:

“A distressed cat becomes unpredictable.”

Stocking let out a dramatic whine and immediately dove into the couch cushions like she was entering battle. “He was here yesterday! Right here!”

In her frantic search, her tail whipped around, batting Brief in the face. She crawled along the couch on all fours, shoving her face into the cushions with wild determination. Her skirt rode up with every stretch, barely covering her butt as her hips wriggled with frustration.

Brief, flustered, scooted over to help—only to find himself hopelessly cornered as she suddenly climbed right over him.

“C-careful!” he squeaked, frozen in place as Stocking’s thighs locked around his head like a trap, her full weight pinning him as she shoved her face deeper into the cushions.

From somewhere inside the cushions, her voice echoed. “I swear, if he fell behind the couch again…”

Brief’s hands hovered uselessly, unsure where to touch. Stocking was entirely too focused on her search to realize the position she’d put him in—or maybe she just didn’t care.

Kuromi, watching like a smug puppeteer, added with quiet glee:

“Don’t lose focus. You’re doing essential search and rescue work.”

Brief closed his eyes and prayed for the plush to be found. Fast.

Brief was doing his best not to breathe too heavily.

Or move.

Or think too hard about the warm weight of Stocking’s thighs pressing against the sides of his face.

Her tail swished impatiently over his head as she growled, still rummaging through the cushions. "Ugh! Where is that stupid—"

She paused.

Then gasped. "Found him!"

Before Brief could say anything, he felt her weight shift. She bent lower, crawling forward to reach between his legs. Her plush-paw hands gripped his thighs for balance.

He tensed up. “W-wait—what do you mean by found—”

Stocking, still oblivious to the compromised situation, stuck her face between his legs, squinting. “There you are, you little rascal!”

And then—without hesitation—she reached in.

Her plush-gloved fingers brushed against something small and soft… and then something definitely not a toy.

“EEP!” Brief flailed.

Stocking’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what—”

There was a terrible moment of realization.

Her eyes darted upward. His eyes darted downward.

Silence.

Then—

“PERVERT!”

She flung herself off him with such **** that they both tumbled in opposite directions. Mister Nibbles—poor, innocent plush bat—flopped dramatically to the ground between them.

Kuromi, sitting prim and smug, gave the final word:

“Target retrieved. Mission accomplished. Emotional damage… substantial.”

Brief lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

Mister Nibbles was staring too.

Judging.

Stocking had retreated behind the couch in a flustered huff, her oversized cat paws hiding her burning cheeks. Brief was sitting cross-legged on the floor, still processing the full-body embarrassment, trying to will his heartbeat into submission.

Between them lay the infamous plush bat, now a symbol of emotional devastation.

Silence reigned, punctuated only by the ticking of a nearby clock.

Kuromi sat atop a pillow, legs crossed like a smug little queen, and offered a serene closer:

“Stability restored. Awaiting next disruption.”

Then—

Click.

The sound of heels.

Panty strolled down the stairs in a sleek, office-style blazer and pencil skirt combo, deep neckline threatening her shirt buttons, a pair of sunglasses perched lazily in her hair.

“Ugh, finally got that call handled,” she yawned, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “What’s up with you losers?”

She blinked at the scene before her.

Stocking: dressed in a cat-paw onesie, half-hidden behind a couch.

Brief: looking like he’d just been spiritually hit by a bus.

The plush bat on the floor.

“…Weird vibe in here,” Panty muttered, stepping over the toy. “Whatever. I’m starving. Who ate the last slice of cake?”

---

The sound of elastic snapping and limbs stretching filled the apartment hallway as Panty stood with her hands on her hips, already dressed in a red sports bra and matching gym shorts so tight they looked vacuum-sealed.

“Alright, sluts,” she announced proudly, twisting her torso with a dramatic crack, “Time to get fit and hot. In that order.”

Brief, standing nearby and clutching a bottle of water like a shield, looked like he’d been thrown into a lion’s den.

Stocking peeked out from the kitchen in her oversized hoodie, deadpan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Sweating together increases intimacy. I recommend a group session.”

Kuromi’s sweet but unsettling voice came from the counter where she sat like a tiny chaos idol.

Panty snapped her fingers. “Hell yeah! Let’s all change together. Like gym class, but sluttier.”

“Absolutely not,” Stocking snapped, crossing her arms. “I’m not changing in front of him.”

“Then make it fair. Everyone closes their eyes. Unless you want to cheat, Brief.”

“I-I’m not—!” Brief turned red instantly. “I’ll just change in the hallway!”