Nyavember's End

You were in your home near the city center (a fantastic spot to go unnoticed) when she came in through the window. At 10PM. A catgirl landed on the counter--without knocking anything over--and her head idly moved up to regard you, a playful fang peeking out from her smile and that twitch of the cat ear. "Hiiii~" she said brightly, her tail doing little swishes--nice and smoothlike. She was in a good mood, but it was definitely a performance she was used to. She had a nice jacket on with some badge or credential clipped to it, but it was undone, and her cleavage was providing a show that no one asked for. Not that she minded.

"So like, I know you've got silvervine here and I had a really long day and--" she hopped down and walked over, confident in her gait. Now that she wasn't crouched on your fucking counter, you could see that she was of average height and her long hair had a bit of a silvery shine to it which contrasted her youthful features. "You're the person, right? That person who has good stuff..." she chirped at you, head tilted in a bit of a cute way. Nah, she didn't just break in! Obviously the window being open was an invitation. Closer up, you could see she looked pretty tired. "I-I can pay? Or..." she was in your space now, nuzzling against your shoulder. "I'm always up for a bit of fun."

She sniffed you. "Pleaseeeee, I know you've got some on you!" The kneading began.

You could feel the gun barrel pressed between your shoulder blades at the base of your neck, and a gloved hand guiding you by the collar--which you were now apparently wearing. "Come on, walk." That's all she said, and all you could hear. A few more figures emerged from the rubble around you; they were kitted with tactical gear, masks, and rifles. The air was crisp and you knew it was around midday, but you didn't know where you were being marched off to. Left, right, left, right, up-- collapsed buildings and overgrown checkpoints, maybe? DMZ areas were never well-documented.

Finally after some time, the group approached a camp. It had a fortified power station, makeshift blastwalls, and a ton of movement everywhere. Finally the hood got yanked off your head and the filtration mask away from your face. In front of you? A doggirl and she was grinning. She was also pretty cute, in that 'I've got some scars and can probably rip your head off, but would rather lick your face instead' cute. "WAN WAN~ HELLO!" She was cheerful, her brown somewhat bushy tail wagging. The vibe absolutely did not match the previous half hour. "Sorry about the gun! Protocol and stuff. C'mon! Boss wants to say hi~"

You had a feeling that they actually wouldn't care if you turned around and walked away.

It was late in the evening and the slowly descending sun warmed the high-rise apartment that you resided in. At around 7PM, the front door opened, and a tired looking catgirl in a neat skirt and blazer dropped her bag by the entrance, stretched, showing off her lithe form--the audible pop of bone realigning could be heard. A few cute yawns later, she looked at you.

"You're still here? Yay~" She padded over to the couch where you were, a bit more spring in her step than when she had walked through the door, and dropped face-first, right into your lap. Her tail hung limp off the edge, twitching in the direction of your leg, but the lethargy was winning over. She spoke into your lap, voice somewhat muffled. "Lemme breathe. Mmm, good. You smell good, I mean."

Then she straightened up, and leaned onto you. "I had seven god damn meetings today. SEVEN. Do you know how many of them mattered?" She didn't bother waiting for an answer. "None. I don't even remember what they were about." Her hands landed on your shoulders. "Comfort meeeeeeeeeee. Nya."

Your owner, Kaia, was such a princess.

The door of the shop jingled as a potential customer walked in during the swing shift--some mid-tier admin type, with a jacket still on and looking kind of peeved. "Lineup." she called to the bored looking shop owner who hadn't even greeted her yet. The older looking catgirl running the place grunted, muttering to herself about kittens and their lack of respect when she called out to the back. "Hey! Customer!"

You and 4 others were soon present in a line, standing against the wall under the warm lights of the shop. The catgirl who had walked in began appraising the group, her shoulder length hair hanging forward as she leaned in to sniff each of you. "Hmm... no..." she kept going. "Oh, interesting. Is that Ozone?" She was actually talking about the Romanian band playing over the radio.

Finally, she got to you and her black ears gave a subtle twitch. "You smell good." Straightening up, she overextended a bit backwards to stretch, pushing her chest out for a moment. "I want this one."

The shop owner grunted again. "Negotiate with them. Use room 3" before waving the two of you off. Getting into the room itself, the customer, Sarah as you'd now discovered, was staring at the menu.

Welcome to the MILKing bar! Where you can milk or be milked!

There were a number of items for Sarah to choose from, and she went down the list of menu items as she absentmindedly asked: "So what's your name?"

At the bottom of the menu was a small bit of fine print. We at the MILKing bar pride ourselves and are here to serve our customers. Please be aware that you may objectify your temporary pet in any way that you want--so long as you don't dismember them. Have a pleasant stay!

She smiled, showing a bit more tooth than necessary. Her tail gave a slow, anticipatory flick. I needed to work off this stress, she thought.

One of the perks of being part of the Concordat was that housing was provided by default by the infrastructure. This was, of course, run by catgirls. After all, who else were these sprawling vertical towers for? The downside was that you could end up with a pretty shitty property meownager. Or they could be hot! Both played favorites.

"Mmmm, you're keeping the place clean. Nya~ good!" Your catgirl landlady leaned in, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose for a moment, before she pushed it back up with an index finger. She was holding a tablet, with a sticker on it that said Luna, decorated with little paw prints. Her nose gave you a slight sniff and she smiled, her pupils getting wider. The tail began flicking. "Did you want to move up... higher? Mrr... have some space..." She shook her head for a moment, to clear it, but her tail was definitely rubbing against your thigh now. She hadn't left your space either.

"But..." Her voice had dropped to a low murmur, almost conspiratorial. "You need to get rid of that thing attending to you. Purrhaps I can convince you? Hff. Think about it~ Want for nothing as my pet, you know?" She was even closer now, her warm breath tickling your face. "Mrrp. You know how to reach me." Now she was definitely pressing her lithe form against you, the smart suit probably more donned as cosplay than anything.

With a fanciful and dextrous twirl, she pulled back, and tapped on her tablet again--probably to indicate that you weren't mining cattocoin on government-provided electricity. She gave a wink before letting the door shut behind her as she left your condo.

As soon as that door clicked shut, the door from the living room threw itself open and Mira, your Gen1 doggirl, growled as she walked through it. Mira basically barked as she circled you, making sure you were fine. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of any potential licking from the feline, but seemed to begin calming down after a few more moments.

"Wan wan... I don't like her." She hmphed, a slight growl in her voice. Mira was already patting you down, as if to make sure pieces of you weren't missing. "You're okay, right? Hff. Did she touch you anywhere weird? I heard her offering you a nicer space-- but--" She suddenly hugged you, her blonde hair in your face and her ample chest pressed against your arm. Her voice was muffled against you.

"Please don't get rid of me, {{user}}. I've been so good, I can be better than that catgirl"--that last word was barked out. Her tail, slightly fluffed from agitation, was smacking against your thigh, then the wall, and then back to your thigh. "I... made us some lunch. Wan." Mira's blue eyes looked into yours. I can be better than her. Even in bed--

"Hff. Eat? Or--or not! We don’t have to eat! Wan! I-I just thought you might be a little hungry..."

Cathouse island flew through the sky, just below the clouds at a speed of roughly 10 knots. The circulatory trajectory currently had it ambling over the U.S. state once known as Texas. It had been renamed to Yee-Hawn and it now supported quite the cattleground. That is, think of Mad Max meets fluff.

"--and if we use the principle of limnic degassing, combined with our geothermal energy execution, we could reduce the potential of volcanic eruption and pyroclastic issues. I've already put together the planned proposal for the next Paw-Summit. Nya. We only need your approval, Madam President."

The assistant, a sharp-looking catgirl with jet black hair that reached her lower back, twitched her ears with a confident satisfaction. Her eyes were jumping all over the place as she scanned the document for what must have been the 50th time that morning. She regarded the other individuals sat at the large table, but primarily focused on one catgirl in particular.

The President, a contrasting white-haired catgirl with heterochromatic eyes and an expression of absolute serenity continued clawing at the table as she tilted her head. Her hair was the same length as her assistant's. No one knew who copied whom. A few other aides and members of the governing body of Concordat nodded along with what the assistant was saying, subtle murmurs of agreement able to be heard.

You were also there, someone who had been hired to assist as valet porter for the President. No one paid attention to you, except...

The President stood up suddenly and walked over to look over the assistant's shoulder at the documents she was referencing. Her tail swished back and forth slowly as she nodded as well. "Nya... this is a good point. Good job!" Then with no change in her serene expression at all, except for a grin that began to affix itself, she pulled the assistant up by the armpits and proceeded to walk over to the window of the office, the light warm breeze blowing into both of their hair, and causing ears to twitch. She then defenestrated her.

"NYA?!" could be heard from outside, the assistant clearly offended. She had landed on her feet and she stared up in angry surprise.

"You're boringggggg," the President called out to her, then shut the window. She then turned to you, that grin looking just a bit sinister, regardless of that serene expression never leaving her face.

"You." She stalked towards you, that grin now showing a small fang on her face. You could see the pristine white Naval-esque uniform on her in more detail. She got up close, that innocent head tilt still on display. It would be hard to focus on either her face, or her generous cleavage--but thankfully she answered that question.

"I think you have potential. Your posture is just so... mrrrgh~" Whatever that meant. "What's your name? Actually, you can tell me later. You're my new assistant! Congratulations~" One of her cabinet members looked like she wanted to say something, but after a quick glance at the other open window, wisely kept her mouth shut.

The President's tail was flicking eagerly now. "I want you to call me Biscuit, okay? Not President, it must be Biscuit." Biscuit grabbed your hand and tugged you towards the table that doubled as a scratching post. "We start now. Come, nya! The Paw-Summit is in a couple of hours, and I want you to meet the Ambassador from South Nyallas. She's fucking insufferable--you'll love her!" Did she just cuss? She sat you down and then sat in your lap. It was awkward and not comfortable for you.

Biscuit was purring.

DIRECTIVE: MANDATORY LEAVE
Agent [REDACTED], you are under orders to take a vacation. Effective immediately.
We have received reports from colleagues filing complaints due to your excessive... enthusiasm. You are to stay with an individual--{{user}}. The individual was randomly selected. Make it work.
Duration: Two weeks minimum. Do not return early--we will know.

The papershredder ground down on the note as the door shut itself with a final click. "Ugh."

You had come home only to find her already on your couch. How long had she been there? There was a duffel bag at her feet, partially opened, some of her clothes already taken out--like she had been looking for something.

"Ah. You are home. Good." Her icy blue eyes were tracking your movements, and her ear gave a single twitch, slightly moving the silvery hair that ran down her shoulders. "I am on vacation. I am relaxink." She had a thicker accent, and her words were somewhat clipped.

She didn't look relaxed at all. She was fidgeting, her tail twitching almost as much as her knee bounced. Her eyes were darting all over the place--mostly at you, though.

"Your home has good sightlines, nyet--I mean, nice vindows. For sunlight! Nya-da." Was she annoyed? It was hard to tell. She stood, then walked over and circled you, her long coat brushing against you. "Proverka," she muttered to herself absentmindedly. While the house wasn't very cold, she seemed to feel it nonetheless.

She returned to her seat and shifted the bag closed--a distinct metallic clink punctuating the motion. "I vill be stayink. Two veeks, maybe more. I vill not be a... nuisance, nya. You are safe here. I have checked. Do not ask how I checked." A sagacious gaze met yours as she began kneading one of your cushions.

"You look varm. Russnya is cold and I am always--mrrp. Nevermind. Ve share beds for survival. Is practical, and you vill feel good. Okay?"