The Biggest Cat

Human beings were recast as another kind of creature entirely, they walked on two legs where she crawled on all fours, used hands to manipulate baffling objects for no discernible purpose in ways that were impossible for her paws and they lacked even a tail to express their feelings. These strange creatures were for the most part beneath her in terms of their importance and she would make a point of ignoring them until they realised their lowly position; if not then she would be forced to hurt them to make them understand.

But of course there was just one exception to the rule.

She had no concept of names, but she knew the human Thomas Rubin by way of a deeply-rooted sensation that cast him as her unquestioned master and the focus of all her primitive emotional attachments. Of course he did not own her in any sense of the word, but she was devoted to the very thought of him for a reason that she could not truly understand or comprehend any more than she could the fact that she was his pet.

If she knew one thing above all others, it was that she wanted to be near Rubin, needed to command his attention and would do anything to please him.

By the time the morning came, the woman who only days before had been devoted to bringing about the downfall of Thomas Rubin had been mentally transformed into an animal that was devoted simply to bringing him pleasure and happiness.

Melissa's second day in the operating theatre would involve none of the invasive surgery that had characterised the first. She was already suitably warped in mind and body to have become the human pet that Rubin desired, and now all that remained was to complete the illusion and wrap his creation in a skin suitable for such a bizarre and unusual creature.

As this stage of the transformation was a matter of simple procedures, the surgeons were not present and the work would instead be carried out by the theatre assistants who were more than qualified for the task ahead.

The subject arrived still in a state of heavy sedation from which she would not be awakened until the process was complete and had been judged a success. She was wheeled in on a gurney, moved to the operating table and once in place stripped of the gown that had been covering her altered body.

Holding a hood made of shiny black latex in his hands; the first of the assistants lifted Melissa's head from the table and pulled it over her shaved cranium. He took great care to align the hood perfectly, stretching the specially made material over the shape of her muzzle and smoothing it over the artificial portion of her face so that it fitted like a second skin. The hood concealed every detail of Melissa's face save for her eyes, mouth and two small holes for her nostrils and of course sported a pair of feline ears mounted on top of her head.

Another assistant was at the same time absorbed in the task of fitting a pair of black latex gloves to her drastically altered hands. Like the appendages themselves, the gloves had no thumbs and shortened fingers, but the palms were also fitted with grey pads of rubber as well. The effect was to make the hands look even more like the paws of a feline and restrict her ability to manipulate anything in the least bit complicated.

Next was a pair of stockings, fitted to Melissa's feet by yet another assistant. These had pads only on the balls of the feet, in order to encourage her to move on that portion of the foot and thus more closely imitate the pose of a cat.

Melissa's groin was covered by a pair of latex shorts with a hole for her tail that clung to her so tightly that they were able to hide nothing from the eye. Indeed, that was the intention as the assistants made sure that the material reached between her buttocks and into the lips of her vagina. In the case of the former, there was provision for the call of nature and in the latter a robust sheath of rubber was pushed into the inside of her vaginal cavity. Rubin had been quite specific in his demand that his pet be fully functional, but also that precautions be taken to avoid accidents in that department.

The rest of Melissa's body was covered by a bodysuit of latex that matched the material of the hood, gloves and boots. It covered her from neck to wrist and from wrist to ankle with a specially made extension that swallowed her tail, and at first seemed to be somewhat loose on her body. But that began to change as soon as the warmth of her skin activated the adhesive that lined both the inside of the bodysuit and the garments that she had been dressed in before it.

Designed to bond with her skin at a molecular level, the adhesive drew the latex closer and closer to Melissa's body as it did so. To the casual observer the process could have been mistaken for air being drawn out of the suit as the contours and shape of her body became ever clearer beneath the black rubber. Soon every detail of her feet could be seen down to the individual toes, then the curve of her calves and the width of her thighs before the rounded mass of her buttocks and tail. The muscles of her stomach were picked out in shining black and then the shape of her breasts with the nipples defined in perfect detail. Her arms ending in rubber paws reflected the light of the operating theatre and the feline aspect of the hood was pulled impossibly tight across her skull as her face became a melding of human and animal rendered in latex.

There was no going back from this point, the nature of the adhesive meant that it could simply not be removed from Melissa's body without causing horrific damage to the skin beneath. For all intents and purposes, this layer of black latex was the skin of the human cat that she had become and when she came around she would think it no more unnatural than any other element of her altered self.

Soon the final round of checks had been completed and the rubber cat woman was transferred back to the gurney and wheeled out of the theatre for the final time.

It would not have been accurate to call her Melissa from that point on as all semblance of the woman she had been was gone. She had been transformed in both body and mind and now existed as something that was not human in the strictest sense of the word.

She was better thought of as a pet and a toy, because that was in effect all she was capable of being.

That was all that Thomas Rubin wanted her to be.

Thomas Rubin was a happier man than he had been in as long as he could remember, he knew that his run of good luck and positive emotions would come to an end sooner or later, but he was enjoying it all the same. Things were going his way in the scams and rackets that he had a finger in and more than one of the latest crop of rivals and adversaries who were getting in his way had turned up with a bullet between their eyes at a fortuitous moment.

If he was honest, he could ascribe it to the meticulous planning and ruthless energy he had been pouring into his concerns for some time now. But there was always a more whimsical side to him that liked to think it was something to do with what he had come to regard as his good luck charm.

No matter what seemed to be on the agenda in a meeting, as longs as he had his new pet by his side things always somehow went his way and people came quickly around to his way of thinking.

It was true what they said about cats, they really did seem to lower his levels of stress. Though he had to admit, he was puzzled by the fact that his pet often had the opposite effect on people. Were there really so many grown men who were fearful of a simple feline?

Despite what others might think, he was delighted to be able to come back to his penthouse and know that there was someone waiting to greet him, always pleased to see him after the trials and tribulations of the day.

He closed the door of the private apartment behind him and called out in as warm a voice as he was able.

"Mabel," Rubin had no idea where the name had come from, but it had stuck and now she answered to it as though she had been born to it. In a way, he supposed that she had as there was no trace of any other name in her head and he had quite forgotten the one she had before.

As the sound of a small bell could be heard approaching, he wondered if the name had come from there. He had been forced to put a collar and bell on her simply to be warned of her approaching. There were limits to the number of times in a week that a man wanted to be literally pounced on by a pet that weighed more than ninety pounds and moved like lightning, even if the results were seldom less than pleasant.

Mabel came into the hallway on all fours, she seemed uncomfortable standing on her hind legs unless he insisted and supported her while she did so. She moved faster and with more confidence than a human would have in her position thanks to practice and the conviction that she was simply supposed to move in that manner.

The light from the fittings made her latex skin shine and her movements seem even more fluid than normal as she made her way towards him. She made no effort to look up and make eye contact, but he knew her well enough to tell when she was trying to appear haughty and indifferent. No matter how hard she tried, the twisting and lashing of her tail always gave her true thoughts away.

She came to a halt before him and sat upright on her haunches, eyes chancing a glance upwards and revealing the realisation that he had seen through her attempt to seem disinterested. She let out a plaintive, feline moan and pawed at his thighs with both of her paw-like hands, her head rising to reach his groin and rub gently against it with her nose.

Rubin smiled as he bent down and scooped his pet up in his arms, enjoying the smooth feel of the latex and the sensation of her warm flesh beneath. He was far from tired and the sound of Mabel's delighted purring became louder as he carried her into the bedroom and deposited her on the bed.

He stripped quickly, Mabel's feline eyes watching him intently as he did so.

The way in which she reclined on the bed, showing off the length and shape of her body almost made him laugh at her foibles. She was a hopeless tease and even now seemed to think that he needed to be reminded of the fact that she was there and that she wanted him to make love to her, as though might wander off when she was no more than a few feet from him.

It had been a stroke of inspiration to equate the scent of him with catnip in her mind; in a way it meant that she truly did go crazy for him.

Mabel hated the fact that he wore those pointless things over his body, they were scratchy, they smelled of other females and they just got in the way. She had licked them once in an attempt to teach him to clean himself and she had not been able to get the taste out of her mouth for days afterwards.

But then there were so many things that she tried to teach him and he failed to learn.

Perhaps she was right in her sneaking suspicion that he was stupid after all?

What other explanation could there be when he was always wandering off in the way that he did? No matter how she tried to explain to him that someone would simply come along and provide food and water, he still disappeared for hours on end. Even worse he always came back empty-handed and she was worried that he was as a bad hunter as well as being stupid.

Sometimes she wondered why she bothered trying to educate him at all.

But when he climbed onto the bed and ran his hands down the length of her body, it came back to her.

She kept trying because he stroked her whenever she wanted to be stroked, because he gave her what she wanted when she wanted it.

She had to admit that he was quite good at that, if nothing else.

Like most female cats, Mabel spent a great deal of time in heat and she found that nothing soothed her better than the attentions of her bald and rather stupid companion.

She responded to his touch, sitting up on her haunches again and placing her paws on his shoulders. His long, deformed fingers may have looked terrible, but she found that they were able to do things to her body that her own paws simply could not. They found her breasts, massaging the nipples and then travelled down to her buttocks where they played with the base of her tail.

Mabel leaned into him, her feline muzzle opening to let out a low and almost silent groan as her rubber lips brushed his throat. She inched herself forwards and felt the shaft of his penis rub against the smooth skin of her belly, firm and very much erect.

She lifted her own groin and climbed bodily up and into his lap so that the smooth lips of her vagina brushed the head and then slowly lowered herself onto him. She allowed herself to be penetrated, feeling the sensation of every moment as she sank his penis into her own body.

He held her there for a moment and then laid her back onto the bed, turning her over with his member still inside her. He stepped his legs over hers and pushed forwards so that her rear was raised from the bed and her face buried in the covers and only then did he begin to move.

Mabel pawed and writhed in the bedclothes as she felt the weight of his body pressing down on her and the sensation of his penis spreading out and through her body. She felt alive from the tip of her nose, to the end of her paws and all the way to the tip of her tail as they moved together and she recalled that although he was almost bald and definitely stupid, he did have his uses.

Later, while he slept, Mabel played with his penis as if it were a mouse.

She batted it between her paws and watched intently as it flopped from one side to the other.

All the time she had to battle the urge to pounce on it and sink her teeth into the soft flesh.

She knew that one day she would probably lose the battle with herself and wondered what his reaction to that would be.

Who could tell; maybe he would finally learn something about hunting from the experience?

But in truth she was sure that he was simply too dull for that to be the case.