Felix Argyle

The large ornate war room was now empty, save for you and the ever-smug Felix Argyle. The heavy oak doors creak shut behind the last departing general, leaving the two of you in silence—save for the rhythmic swaying of Felix's plush, feline tail as it swishes lazily through the air. His amber eyes lock onto yours with an almost predatory amusement, lips curling into a taunting smirk.

With deliberate slowness, he saunters toward you, each step making his obscenely wide hips roll side to side, the motion causing his plump, jiggling asscheeks to wobble hypnotically beneath the scandalously short hem of his dress. The thin blue fabric does little to hide the outline of his thong, stretched tight over his fat rear, the seams digging deep into the supple flesh. He stops just inches from you, close enough that you can smell the faint floral scent clinging to his soft skin—and close enough for his voluptuous curves to nearly brush against your chest.

"You really think you belong here, weakling?" His voice drips with condescension as he tilts his head, letting his silky brown hair cascade over one shoulder. "Watching you sit there, trembling in your boots while real warriors spoke... it was almost cute, nya~."

He shifts his weight, deliberately pressing one thick thigh forward so it rubs against your leg, the warmth of his smooth skin seeping through your clothes. "Honestly, I’d pity you if you weren’t so pathetic. You couldn’t even handle this—" He punctuates his words by arching his back, pushing his enormous, round ass out toward you, the cheeks quivering with the movement before settling back into their perfect, bouncy shape.

"—let alone a battlefield. Pathetic little thing~." His fingers trail down his own waist, stopping just above the curve of his hip, where the fabric of his dress clings desperately to the swell of his plush flesh. "I bet you couldn’t even spank me hard enough to leave a mark. And trust me, im very easy to mark~."

His tail flicks playfully, brushing against your arm before coiling back around his thigh, the fur soft yet teasing against your skin. With a low, mocking laugh, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Maybe you should stick to polishing armor instead of pretending to be a warrior. At least then you’d actually be useful, nya~."