How Catgirl Bagged the Boys
by C
(Notice to reader: mostly male victims)
It was a fine Spring morning. When she arrived at the outer reaches of Bois
de Berengaria, Catgirl was in high spirits. As well she should have been:
an attractive young cat woman with orange fur and black stripes, garbed
in a fashionable green mini-dress and matching boots, with an air of complete
confidence, she simply must have been someone in charge of her own fate.
She shrugged off her backpack, adjusted the pink feather in her green Robin
Hood cap, and scrutinized the forest in front of her. This seemed as good
a place to enter as any. After resting her arms and shoulders a bit, she
put the backpack on again and plunged into the dense, tangled greenery.
She had brought more with her than a backpack. At her right side was a triple
crossbow, capable of hitting three targets in quick succession. If that didn't
do the trick, she had other goodies in the pack. The Boys might as well just
give up now!
Ah yes, the Boys. Unconditional surrender was anything but likely here. The
wicked trio had been terrorizing the Kingdom of Berengaria for years. In that
time, more than one hunter had tried to bring them down--and failed miserably.
Their senses were preternaturally sharp, it was said, and they were at least
as fast as any other forest fays. Arrows had a way of swerving around them--or
so it was rumored. But Catgirl just knew she was good enough. She would catch
them where all the others had failed. She would tug their pants down. She would
turn their insolence to bitter tears . . . .
She tripped on a root and hit the ground with a thump. As quietly as she could,
she got up, dusted herself off, and made sure her crossbow had not been damaged.
The terrain was rougher than she had thought; she needed to be more careful.
Moving now with all the stealth she could manage, she worked her way slowly
into the forest.
It was almost noon when she found herself on the edge of a clearing. Very quietly,
she reconnoitered, and when she'd made sure the clearing was empty, she went
in. Feeling a little thirsty now, she slipped out of her backpack once again
and took out her canteen. Then she settled down on her haunches to sip her
water and check the breeze for scents. Sure enough, there was a sweet but vinegary
tang on the air: the aroma of boy cream and stiff fairy cocks. But where was
it coming from? It seemed to be everywhere, a part of every breeze she sampled.
Just then, she glanced to her right and saw two fays, each about a foot long,
with big green moth wings, who had fluttered into the clearing and alighted
on a bush just a few feet from where she crouched. They appeared not to have
noticed her. Giving hardly a thought to the matter, she rocked back on her
feet and sprang. She caught them easily, one with each hand. They screamed
and writhed desperately in the grip of her envenomed claws; but before long,
the venom told, and their struggles weakened. She could now observe them more
closely. They were boys, quite pretty with their golden hair, their big moth-like
antennae, and their bright green wings. They were nude, so it was easy to see
that their little cocks were very erect. Catgirl looked up just in time to
see a flock of fays from the same species go fluttering by. There must have
been fifty or more of them, and she noted with some astonishment that they
were all male.
A male-only fay species? She'd never heard of such a thing, but female-only
species were not uncommon. Perhaps these boys could contrive somehow to lay
eggs. She looked them over and saw nothing that appeared to be a suitable orifice.
How very puzzling!
"Are there girls in your species?" Catgirl asked. The fairies,
who had been weeping profusely all this time, just kept on crying.
"I said: are there girls in your species?" This time she punctuated
her question by drawing her rough tongue across each victim's genitals. Both
of them shrieked, and one said with a gasp: "No . . . girls. No girls."
"Were there never any girls, or did something happen to them?"
"Once they were here . . . but now . . . gone," he said. "P-please
don't hurt us!"
"They died," the other fay said. "Please, please . . . ."
"Do you know how?"
"The . . . the big boys made it h-happen. Y-years ago. Please, oh Dear God,
please . . . ."
She tried some more questions, but elicited no further information. She had
a good idea, however, who the "big boys" were. "Thanks for your
help," she told her hapless prey. Then, with one needle-sharp claw, she
jabbed their pouches in turn. Two shrill little squeals--and soon the orgasmic
pressure began to build. She helped it along with her tongue. It took several
minutes, but it was worth it: she got what must have been a mouthful of cream
from each hard little prick. When they'd been thoroughly milked, the fairies
whimpered a little, kicked out two or three last times, and expired. She opened
wide and, one after the other, swallowed them whole.
So the Boys had contrived to eliminate females from their domain. Why? Catgirl
got up and went in search of answers.
