Cat & Mouse - 1/2
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
https://linktr.ee/spartacuswrites
Contains: Weight Gain, BBW, Anthro
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Cat & Mouse
I
From the time she knew she liked women, Felicity’d had a thing for petite women. As a cat pushing two meters tall, it certainly never limited her dating pool, so she figured it was a harmless kink. She’d spotted Molly through the dim, mood-lit bar, standing barely one-fifty in kitten heels, patiently waiting for the cephalopod bartender to see her. Felicity was smitten.
Her grandmother would have called Molly’s tight bob “mousy” brown, but she’d been set in her ways by age fifty. Wearing a tasteful navy and polka-dot dress that hugged her top half and flared at her hips, the only spare flesh on Molly’s body was her barely-a-handful breasts and a pair of well-turned legs. Her arms were bare, giving Felicity an eyeful of the light, near-translucent hair that did nothing to conceal a menagerie of tattoos. It wasn’t until the next morning that Felicity noticed just how many of those tattoos were culinary themed.
Felicity squeezed herself through the narrow doorway to their tiny bathroom, sucking it in for all she was worth and praying the metal plate thing wouldn’t scrape her belly again. For the hundredth time, she wished she’d convinced Molly to move into her place instead. In high school science class, she’d learned that her ancestors, the ones who’d lived around the time of those dinosaur movies, used their whiskers to judge whether they could fit through small spaces. Felicity’s whiskers hadn’t reached the breadth of her body even before she met Molly. And like everything else about being with Molly, being a bit too big for her girlfriend’s space had been intoxicating, at first.
As she maneuvered her more-than-a-bit-too-big body in the cramped room, Felicity’s unwieldy breasts bumped the shelves beside the sink, sending the bottles and jars of product clattering. Mercifully, nothing fell. Bending down to pick them up was no longer in Felicity’s skill set; they’d have stayed scattered on the tile floor until Molly got home.
Softening her posture, Felicity had sauntered up to the bar. Some preternatural sense had made Molly’s ears twitch, and her head turn to regard her. Those ears had made heat pool below Felicity’s stomach—all fuzzy and round, one slightly smaller than the other.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She’d taken it as a sign of Molly’s reciprocated interest that the mouse hadn’t immediately scoffed at the line—perhaps the worst Felicity had ever uttered.
Molly’s dark eyes had reflected the neon signs around the bar like a kaleidoscope. As her gaze slid down Felicity’s black bodycon dress and back to her face, she’d slowly turned until their bodies were facing. The mouse’s pupils dilated, making Felicity rise to her full height just to watch them widen further.
Molly hadn’t disappointed, but she’d blinked away her awe in a flash, offering Felicity a smirk. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Felicity’d given her a grin of her own. For a moment, she’d worried this would be too easy. She raised her arm without breaking eye contact with Molly. While not the tallest person at the bar—that honor belonged to a pair of gazelles necking in the corner—Felicity knew she was difficult to miss. She detested the gym, and no one would ever confuse her for a gazelle, but the creamsicle cleavage plunging into her black dress hadn’t failed her yet.
The tender had drifted toward them, pulling beers and shaking a cocktail with their spare limbs. Felicity ordered a Brandy Alexander. Before she could ask, Molly added, “Gin and tonic.”
She had let Felicity pay, at least.
Felicity stood under the steamy water, cold tiles against her backside, plastic curtain clinging to her front. She and the shower curtain had never been allies; it had tried to wrap her up like a cat burrito since she moved in. Now, the damn thing would press against her if it were hanging straight down—if it could fall straight down with her inside the shower, which it could not. She rotated slowly, tugging and plucking at the curtain to keep it from following her and letting water spray all over the bathroom. She missed her big bathtub, though she doubted it would be as roomy as she remembered.
“And then, he insisted on ordering for both of us,” Molly had said.
“No!”
“Yes. Their ‘gourmet’ grilled cheese with a side of baked Mac.”
“Oh. My. Gods.”
“I know! Like, I get that wolves have that whole alpha thing, but be so for real.”
Felicity’s full-body laugh rang through the din of the bar. It earned them several glances from surrounding patrons, but Felicity had seen none of them. Her entire world had shrunk to their corner table and the incredible creature who sat across from her.
“Anyway,” Molly’d said, taking a sip of her third G&T, “that was the first and last time I went out with a guy.”
“Amazing. So—“ Felicity’s stomach let out a growl so loud it had made Molly blink.
“Oh, wow. Sorry.”
Molly had grinned with all of her tiny little teeth. “That’s alright.” She’d hesitated half a moment, then said, “I know a great little hole-in-the-wall diner like two blocks from here?”
Felicity had glanced at the clock hung between faded liquor ads. She never ate after midnight, even as a hangover prevention. But she hadn’t been ready for the night to end. She’d have said yes to any second location Molly suggested, but to her surprise, a midnight snack sounded even better than an invitation back to her place.
It took three entire towels to get all of herself dry, and everything below her belly was guesswork and hope. Felicity scrubbed a damp towel over one thigh, looking down at a sea of pink-orange rolls. She’d lost the ability to see her feet past her boobs without bending over long before she met Molly, but then this thing appeared. A big, soft, apricot mound, visible even past her two best features, and it kept getting bigger.
Everything else was getting bigger, as well. Even though she couldn’t see it, Felicity’s thigh felt wider than her girlfriend’s hips, much wider. She slung her third sopping towel over the curtain rod before worming her way out of the bathroom. The effort of standing for her shower had left her winded, however. Halfway through the inadequate doorway, Felicity’s gasping breath weakened her hold on her sucked-in gut, and she felt a sharp pain.
“Ow, fuck!”
Felicity turned to slip out the door ass-first, making the hollow door behind her creak ominously. She looked at her reflection in the steamed mirror, pawing at her tummy to see the damage. An angry red line cut right across her middle, as long as her hand, but fortunately, it hadn’t drawn blood.
She poked at the wound and pouted. Why did Molly’s apartment have to be so damn small? As soon as her girlfriend got home, Felicity would give her a piece of her mind. She’d make Molly put ointment and lotion on her so she wouldn’t get a scar, then she’d declare that she was finally going on a diet. She’d never wanted to be a twig, but this was getting ridiculous.
Molly kept a huge glass jar on the kitchen counter perpetually filled with cookies. Felicity ate three of them before remembering she was still naked.
A second location hadn’t precluded a third, as it turned out. Felicity had woken spread-eagled on Molly’s bed, feet dangling off the mattress, sunlight blasting through the curtains. She hadn’t planned on staying over, but all she remembered of the previous night was Molly shattering her world so thoroughly that she’d passed out on her mouse-sized bed.
She’d folded her arms behind her head, replaying the evening. It hadn’t been any one thing, more like a litter of feelings, each of them enticing and exhilarating. Molly’d been funny, clever, insightful, and feisty. Despite being half her size, Molly had been fully in control. Knowing that, feeling that, the fact that Felicity could easily overpower her, but chose to let the tiny woman lead… It was like nothing she’d ever felt, even with other diminutive partners. It would be several months into their relationship before they really got into roleplay, but Molly seemed to fit perfectly into a space Felicity hadn’t realized was empty.
Felicity’s nose twitched as a trace of frying bacon had wafted into the bedroom. She might have wondered why being around Molly made her hungry, but it seemed entirely natural after the workout she’d had the night before.
Felicity polished off half the jar before her feet started to ache. And her legs. And her back. She’d been standing since she got up to take a shower; she needed to get back to her recliner.
But she was still naked.
And more cookies were right there.
She wanted to make them last, though. If she ran out, she’d have to wait for Molly to get home and bake more.
Thinking of Molly made her stomach grumble despite its payload of chocolate and sugar.
Felicity grabbed two out of the jar to give her the strength to waddle all the way to the bedroom.
Bras and panties were in the top drawer, with leggings in the second. The decision to divide their drawers between high and low had seemed like a height issue at the time. Even though Felicity’s plain, extra-strength bra was almost as long as Molly was tall, the straps and bands pinched as she fastened it around her girls. Her panties weren’t much better, and the leggings were so reluctant to slide up her ass that she worried they would rip.
Her tops, at least, still fit well enough, though the lime green she pulled out of the closet was more snug than she remembered. Molly had slipped the blouse on a few months ago, and it covered the mouse like a tent—she’d had to clutch the material over her chest to keep the collar from falling off her shoulders, and it still pooled around her feet in a puddle. Was that tarp really the same one clinging to her belly and tits? At least it showed off the girls, but had she truly gotten that much bigger than her girlfriend?
Now she was horny as well as hungry. Was there a word for that? Horngry? Pondering such etymological questions smothered the fear Felicity might have felt as she smoothed her dropcloth blouse, squeezed out of the bedroom, and waddled back to the kitchen.
Felicity had traced the tattoo of a pasta fork on Molly’s bicep before kissing her good morning. Molly was a chef, she remembered, which seemed a perfect coincidence. She’d been so ravenous that she mowed through half of the fluffiest omelette she’d ever tasted before noticing she had an audience.
Nibbling on chunks of melon, Molly’d watched Felicity eat with a self-satisfied tilt to her mouth. Felicity compared the mouse’s fruit cup with the Queen’s feast laid out in front of her. The disparity in their respective breakfasts felt like a metaphor, but she’d been unable to resist a comment.
“Is that your breakfast?”
Molly shrugged. “I’m mostly vegetarian.”
Felicity had gaped. Her omelette was stuffed with ham; there were fat sausage links the size of bratwurst; even the hash browns were smothered in cheese. “You didn’t have to make all this just for me.” She’d spoken by reflex, but Felicity’s stomach had murmured at her to shut up and keep feeding it.
Molly’s laugh was an adorable giggle. “I cook with meat at the restaurant all the time. And besides, I’d never feed a cat fruit—At least, not one who looks so cute eating a burger.”
She’d nearly forgotten about the burger. Molly had been right about that diner; sketchy and run-down, staff who were kind of mean, but the biggest, greasiest, most delicious midnight burger she’d ever tasted. No wonder she’d woken up famished. She’d messed up her whole appetite schedule by eating so much so late.
Still, the extravagant breakfast had fed her ego even as it fed her belly. It seemed to be telling Felicity, without words, how Molly saw her. Big, yes, but also substantial, significant. She’d spent the entire morning, while Felicity lazed in bed, sweating over a stove to make food she wasn’t going to eat, food she didn’t even like. Felicity’d imagined herself looming large in Molly’s mind, taking up space the way she’d filled up her bed, the way her butterscotch boobs had overflowed Molly’s hands the previous night.
Felicity’d bit into a sausage, purring as the juices hit her tongue. In truth, she’d started feeling full a few bites earlier, but it’d all been so delicious, and she couldn’t insult Molly by not cleaning her plate. She thought she could get used to feeling that important to someone, so long as these big meals didn’t become a habit.