Joining the Girls

While on vacation in the big city, a cat's friend gets turned into a trashy rat girl, then tries to do the same to him. Explicit.

The last night had whirled into an exciting blur. Rebecca had been with him for most of it. She had run off in some other direction, said there was someone who wanted to something something and she'd be back by morning, and he hadn't seen her since. Circ had ended up sprawled on the bed in the hotel room by the end of it all.

Their trip to the city had been a lazy, fun week for the two friends to kick back and do all the sorts of touristy things. They were leaving Sunday night, but they still wanted to make the most of it, so the two of them had convinced each other that going out to a club would be fun. And it was fun. The problem was getting up the next morning.

Circ's nose twitched and the brown cat pushed it down into the pillow. There was an unpleasant smoky smell in the room but he wanted to keep sleeping. After a minute with his head in the pillow, it seemed like he just wasn't getting back to sleep. He lifted off the covers, slid to the side of the bed, and crawled out onto the floor. The sun shone in through the windows; it was almost noon, and though Rebecca wasn't there, the squirrel's bed had its sheets practically torn off. Her purse was on the floor beside the bed.

So Rebecca was probably downstairs getting in on the tail end of a continental breakfast. Circ didn't think he would be up for eating right now, so instead he showered, dried himself off with some good towel-ruffling, and pulled on the fresh tee shirt and boxers he took with him into the bathroom. He was a perfectly nondescript young male: not quite as trim as he'd like to be, but better-looking than he generally thought he was.

The loud click of a card slipping into the lock was audible even in the bathroom. Rebecca coming back from breakfast, he thought. He grabbed his dirty clothes, stepped out of the bathroom, turned to say hi, stopped, and dropped his clothes.

Now, Rebecca was a brunette with a pixie haircut and a cute smile on top of a lithe little body. What was in front of him couldn't have been further from Rebecca.

Her oil-black hair fell in teased out curls down over her shoulders, framing her eyes, painted with dark eyeliner and scathing blue eyeshadow. The vibrant red of her lips drew in his gaze, which then slipped down to look at the glossy gold spandex tank top, and the brown-furred cleavage nearly spilling out of it. The skintight material clearly delineated the shape of her nipples. On her shoulders sat a tiny leather jacket, barely enough to reach down to her midriff if she closed it, (and if it managed to fit over her breasts) with sleeves of thick, fluffy fur. A tiny pair of black shorts stretched around her waist, clinging tightly to her heavy ass. Fishnet stockings ran from her high heels, up around her legs, and underneath her shorts. Gold hoops glittered in her ears and jingled around her wrists with a fake, plastic sound.

The naked hands and feet and tail made it obvious: she was a rat. And between her clothes, her makeup, and her slight sneer as she chewed on a stick of gum, it was equally obvious that she had no sense of class. Circ wouldn't admit it, but looking at her made him think of bending her over, ramming deep into her, pulling her hair and listening to her scream. He was shocked at his own obscene thoughts. And though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, those thoughts were getting him excited.

"Hey, Jerk. You gotta problem or something?" the rat asked. Her voice was sharp and rough, tinted with a Brooklyn accent that made everything she said sound just a little mean.

There was only one person Circ knew who called him Jerk. But the tramp in front of him was a rat, not a squirrel. There was no way it could be her.

"Did you...meet Rebecca?" he asked.

"It's me, dumbass. Don'cha recognize me? But call me Rita. Rebecca sounds like I'm a fucking mom."

Circ's brow furrowed, and he took in the words, but his mind wasn't willing to connect what he was seeing and hearing to the Rebecca that he knew.

"Okay. I get it, pretty funny. Where's Rebecca for real though?" he asked.

Rita scoffed as she walked past him, bringing with her a wave of cheap perfume and the smell of cigarette smoke. It was the same thing he had smelled earlier. Circ stumbled; the strength of the scent made him feel woozy.

"You're talking to her, shithead," Rita said, glancing over her shoulder with a grin before she bent down to root through the purse sitting beside Rebecca's bed. She bent at the waist, and from the glimpse of her ass Circ got, he guessed she didn't have any underwear on.

Circ would have continued his protest, but seeing her pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse confused him. Rebecca didn't smoke. So what, Rita planted them? It was an odd detail to fake...

"You were saying I ain't Rebecca?" she asked, cigarette held between painted claws. She stuck the tip against the lighter for a moment, then breathed in a mouthful of smoke.

“If you are then how'd you get like this? You don't look like her," Circ said.

“Fuck if I know. We were at the club, right? And there's this girl and shit, she's so hot. So I'm all shy and whatever, and she's just like 'come on bitch' so that's when I found you and told you I was going. And then we're talking and then we're making out and then just plain fucking and I start feeling real good, then she fucking runs and I gotta suck a cock just to get some fucking clothes that I'm not ripping out of." She motioned to her outfit. “Pretty fucking hot though. I gave the guy some anal to say thanks."

"I just—that's not possible," Circ said, shaking his head. He had listened with morbid interest while starting to edge toward the door.

Rita scoffed. "I'll fucking show you."

Cigarette smoke and perfume whirled around Circ's head as the rat girl closed in for a kiss. It was a rough and hungry kiss, with little care or love in it, more like a passionate attack. Circ faintly tasted cum on her lips—and it was fresh. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, while she held him by the shoulders to keep him from getting away. He struggled, but as she breathed smoke down his throat, his limbs seemed heavy, jaw slack, eyelids drooping.

"Good shit, huh?" Rita teased.

“Wha'd yoo...doo..." Circ said. He felt like a little doll, moving underneath Rita's hands.

Rita slipped off Circ's clothes while he could barely move. The words seemed to get weighed down in the back of his throat, keeping him from protesting as he lost his shirt and jeans, then finally his underwear.

"God," she groaned, voice raising to a drawled, uncouth whine. "You got no idea how much I wanna fuck you. And cock isn't even my thing."

As she slid her shorts down her legs, a few drips of creamy fluid fell onto the floor from her folds. It didn't look like it was her own. Circ could only wonder how many times she'd had sex today all ready.

"Stop, wait," Circ managed to get out of his throat. "Rebecca, if you're in there, you've got to fight it. You're not like this."

"Sorry to break your heart but she fucking loves this. Can't believe I was friends with such a fucking prude," Rita sneered. She held Circ steady as she closed the distance, smelling of smoke, perfume and now sex, all mixed into one.

Circ shuddered as the rat girl descended over his shaft. She moved quickly, riding him like an expert, whipping him up into an erection with skill. She was still wet with someone else's cum. It was disgusting, Circ thought, the idea of having sex with someone who was so used like that. Someone tainted with wanton sex, so eager she didn't even bother to clean in between, so desperate that she wanted him now...he was sure the idea had bothered him before but now it simply didn't. His lips met Rita's in another kiss, and she blew more smoke down into his throat. It lingered there, while her body ground along his, her coarse fur gently scratching at his skin as she moved back and forth. His nose was growing larger, pulled forward, and dragging his muzzle with it. Fur started to fall from his dangling tail. Where his fur rubbed against his own body it felt rougher, more wiry.

"Come on kitty, I know you wanna tear open my pussy. Fuck that shit raw. I wanna scream."

His groan hitched in his throat, his eyes glazing over. His hands rested on her hips. He couldn't help it. He held on, and now he thrust back against her, moving in time with her, curling his back with each push. The way she could talk dirty, with that whore's voice and the look of sheer in her eyes—it made him more eager than he wanted to admit.

"Bet you get lioness bitches lining up to suck your dick. But I bet they don't fuck you as good as a rat can, cause rats are slutty as shit, right?."

“Oh...yeah," he said, speaking without even thinking about it, as if Rita was making him say things. “Rats are way sluttier than cats so they fuck way better."

Circ's jaw was slack again. Most of his real thinking was going on around his groin. With constant puffs of smoke rolling against his face, each one breathed in and destroying his current train of thought, keeping him wrapped up in a trance. He could hardly think about resisting Rita. He knew this was bad but he couldn't pull away. He just kept pounding away, trapped in pleasure.

"Bet you wanna be a rat," Rita said.

“I want to be a rat." Circ repeated against his will.

“A trashy rat who gets to fuck like crazy?"

Circ bit down on his lips, but his head rolled up and down.

“Let's get fucking started," Rita said, a bright look in her eyes. She squeezed her body against Circ, and despite himself, he loved the feeling of her wide hips and that huge chest pressed against his body, so hot and needy.

Her fingers slid up along Circ's chest, groping the softness that was collecting on top of his shrinking pecs. She let go of her two handfuls with a disgusted face. "Shit babe, you gotta get some fake tits. You're a fucking board," she said.

But he was a guy! ...but he still needed implants. Rita was right, and she felt so good, and he needed more of that smoke, but she was taking fewer puffs, but he wanted more, he needed to keep breathing it in because it was so good and made him feel so good and he needed it now.

“Yeah, I know, I'm so flat," he said as if the words were being drawn forcibly from his throat.

Circ's waist was shrinking, softened, the weight fading as he breathed out after Rita's smoky kisses. It worried him deep inside, but he couldn't deny that it felt good, like breathing out your troubles, leaving only the good stuff behind. Just below, on his ass, where Rita's hands rested, he was swelling just as fast, and felt the tingle of tender flesh swelling outward, becoming more sensitive.

“What're you doing to me?" he asked, eyes wide, trembling but not moving. His voice creeped upward, less masculine, more shrill.

He lifted his paws, placing them on her back for support as his center of gravity changed. He could run now but it was slipping from his mind. Did he want to run? Could he run? It was way easier to just stay where he was. Escape wasn't the only thing fading; as he focused more on Rita, school felt less important. College grew mushy and started flowing out of his mind. It wasn't useful the way sex was. It was hard for school to compete with a piece of rat trash like Rita.

Rita stuffed the lit cigarette between Circ's lips and he moaned. The sudden inhalation of smoke sent ripples throughout his body. He wrapped plumping lips around it, pulling down deep puffs, trembling just slightly, but still thrusting into Rita all the same. Not for too long, though—light burst before his eyes, his furless toes curled, and he bit a softer lip with rodent-like incisors as he started cumming. He arched his back, leaning into her, and filling her with his seed until he felt spent and was softly gasping for air, his shaft going limp.

He thought he might have a reprieve, but Rita grabbed him, pushing him back onto the bed, and quickly climbing up to straddle him. The moan that escaped his mouth was higher-pitched and sharper.

"Oh gawwd Rita," he moaned, lost too deep in a smoky trance to realize the accent creeping into his words. He sucked gently on the cigarette, letting his lips grow, feel more tender, shaping to curl into a perfect O.

His orgasm had been more draining than he thought. As Rita climbed over him, his cock was dwindling smaller and smaller, and his balls were neatly tucking themselves away into his body. With one hand, Rita pushed her fingers into his developing folds, spreading them, while her other hand drew a long shaft from her purse and slipped one end up into her body.

Rita she eased the double-sided dildo into the rapidly-growing pussy between Circ's legs. His muzzle lengthened, stretching slowly, the sensations of bone shifting lost in the pleasure between his...her legs, and the feeling that her body was still steadily growing. The brush of the latex shaft against her new clit made her wince and squirm in delight.

"Rita, my tits!" Circ gasped, the word coming to her lips naturally, more naturally than 'breasts' or anything else. Twin points of pleasure burst inside her chest, small, intense and acute. The delight grew, and so did her flesh. Flat skin grew into small, perky mounds, which softened as they grew, bigger, rounder. They were getting firm as they swelled, and showed no signs of stopping soon. She could feel the shifting of fur against fur, as her breasts first lay against her chest, then pressed against each other.

"What, you thinking about pumping them up some more?" Rita asked, without taking a single pause in the motion of her hips, driving the dildo into Circ, spreading her virginal folds wide open.
"Take that back, my tits aren't fake!" Circ said.

"They're fucking melons, they ain't fooling no one."

"You're just jealous cause you got tiny tits!" Circ snapped back instinctively

Oh god, she thought. She was becoming some bitchy tramp. This was what happened to Rebecca. She felt like an idiot for not doing...anything, but she really had thought it was just a prank.

"Hey Rica, ya know what I was thinking? Girl like you...gotta love cock, right?"

Circ was ready for her body to disobey her again, but she thought about it, and she really did like the idea of a big dick pushing down her throat and filling her with cum or spraying all over her face or stuffed into her cunt and—wait, no, those weren't the right thoughts!

“I...I don't..." Circ stammered.

"Sucking it, riding it, licking it...fuck, you got your tits cause you wanted to give titjobs, remember?" Rita asked pointedly.

With her will devoted to resisting those sex-saturated words slipping in with the smoke and perfume and everything trashy and wonderful about Rita, Rica was slipping in other areas. She was sure she had some other name but Rica was all that came to mind. And she didn't get her tits to give guys tit jobs! If she had she wouldn't have gone as far as double-D...or was that an E? She reached out, grabbing her nipples, squeezing the taut mounds back against her body, and feeling the sparks of pleasure fly from the touch of her claws. The slow growth of her fake tits combined with the dildo splitting her apart to keep a constant haze of lust over her thoughts.

“Shut up Rita, you're a fucking whore!" Rica shouted.

"Yeah, but you're so fucking addicted to cock," Rita said.

Rica loved that word! Her plump, tingling, swelling lips spread into a grin across her rodent muzzle. The sound was just so perfect. Cawwwk. Circ was no longer a prisoner in her own body—she was becoming exactly the thing she'd been trying to avoid. She wasn't watching it; she was living it, feeling every part of her twisted into something new, and guiltily enjoying the perversity.

“Aw yeah, I love cock! I'll take it fucking anywhere," Rica said.

"Heh, sometimes you're such a fucking breeder bitch."

Girls were competition. Sure, Rica thought girls were hot and they could get her wet but she wouldn't fuck them. She was fucking straight.

“And you're a dyke bitch all the fucking time," Rica said.

As Rica's mind went into a downward spiral of positive feedback, lust feeding corruption and back into lust, out went manners, out went her family, out went decency. Tramps had sex, whores got laid, sluts got cock. She had to be like those sorts of women. She had to be one of those sorts of women. She was a fucking slut. Her ass made her back curl in delight as it grew, expanding beneath her, giving her more padding, shaping her legs into a more titillating silhouette. She bounced back up against Rita and her double-sided dildo she was ramming down into her.

She screamed as she came, her brown fur pushed up against Rita, her juices gushing out of her. The feeling of her cum dripping down her legs only excited her.

"Come on, we hafta get you looking good," Rita said. She peeled Rica off the bed, and pulled her toward the bathroom.

Purple eyeshadow, deep pink lipstick, eyeliner rubbed on too dark and heavy, and that cheap perfume that gave Rica pleasant tingles all down her body. All of it was slathered on nice and thick, to make sure she got the point across that she was a slut. She looked in the mirror, pouting her cocksucking lips and thinking about all the cock she could be having while Rita painted her nails. Cock, and Rita. Cock and Rita filled up a good portion of her mind that wasn't filled up with slutty things to have written across your tits and how to turn just about any action into an invitation to sex.

Rica turned to look at the mirror, licking her lips, and giving her fake tits a small lift with her hands, loving how the heavy orb overflowed her hand. She couldn't imagine feeling any happier.

But that was before the trip to the mall. Rita had suggested it, and now late in the afternoon, the two rat girls returned to the room, laden with bags full of the sluttiest things they could find and giddy with the trampy possibilities.

Rica, in her glittering heels that made her oversized tits jiggle with every step, the tiny leopard print miniskirt that hid her groin, and the snug leather tank top, looked at herself in one of the big mirrors, curling a fake nail around the blond highlights in her hair. There wasn't a shred of intelligence behind those slutty eyes, but brains didn't get you cock. She admired her big pink hoop earrings and plastic jewelry. She looked like some five-dollar whore, even though she wasn't. She didn't charge.

As Rita came in, Rica turned around and glared at her.

"You gotta stop making me look like a dyke in fronta guys. I coulda gotten fucked like two more times if you weren't all grabbing my tits and shit," she told Rita, adding, "Fucking lesbo."

"Okay cunt, look. First, you're my fucking girlfriend so I can grab your tits if I want. Second, I paid for them, so they're mine anyway," Rita said.

"I don't give a shit! I just wanna fucking cock now and then and you fuck that up with your gay lesbo shit," Rica said. They were getting loud enough to be heard a few doors down.

"You wouldn't be getting fucked if you didn't have the fucking tits I pay for and the makeup and shit!" Rita shouted.

"You don't pay for it, you just fuck it outta people!" Rica shouted back.

Rita's hand clapped across Rica's cheek. “Maybe you should try it so I'm not buying shit for your broke ass all the time!"

Rica reeled from the slap, shook her head, and at Rita with an angry sneer. Rita sat on the bed and pushed down her shorts.

"Hey, Rica. Want some cunt?" Rita asked. She spread open her folds with her claws and Rica's brow relaxed, and her eyes went blank. Sex trumped fighting, even if Rica had just really been getting into the fight.

"Yeah! ...fuckin queer bitch," she said under her breath as she dropped to her knees. Her wild, curly hair laid on Rita's legs, her lips pushed against her girlfriend's heavily used folds, her tongue slipped into her, and Rita groaned.

"Shit yeah. You know you like that," Rita said.

“Nuh lezbuh," Rica insisted, with her tongue deep inside of Rita.

Rita smirked, running her claws through Rica's hair. Even by Rita's standards her little arm candy was dumb, but she was so much fun to play with that she didn't care.

After a wild, sheets-tearing, thrashing orgasm, with enough moaning that the people in the rooms next to them were banging on the walls, Rita was smoking again and Rica was cleaning off her muzzle with her tongue and her fingers. A soft, tinny song began to play, catching the attention of both of the rat girls. Rita looked around for the sound, then tossed aside an old pair of jeans and picked a cell phone up off the ground. “It's yours," she said as she passed it to Rica, who stared at the caller ID. She didn't recognize it. She pressed the green button anyway, leaving a smudge of Rita's juices on the screen.

"Circ? I've been calling all day. Are we still on for meeting up tomorrow? Are you okay?" the voice on the phone asked. It sounded like a guy.

"Yeah, I'm fucking great! So hey...you gotta cock? Cause I haven't had a cock in way too long," she said, leaning against the bed and pushing her free hand under her skirt to rub her pussy.

"What...what!? Are you all right? Is Rebecca there?"

"Oh yeah, she's here. We're gonna go out soon though cause we wanna get trashed and I was thinking I'd do that thing where you get like a guy fucking your cunt and one you're sucking off. And maybe I can get one to fuck my tits or some shit." She pulled her fingers from her pussy and rubbed the wet claws along her huge mounds, letting out a soft moan into the phone.

"Okay...I don't know what's going on with you or what but I'm coming up there tonight. Don't do anything stupid."

Rica pulled her head away when she heard the click. "So?" Rita asked.

"Maybe we can stay here and just order some pizza and shit and get hotel porn. Some guy with a cock's coming over tonight."

Rita's eyes lit up. "We can fuck the pizza guy too! Hope it's a chick," she said.

Rica stuck out her tongue. "Fucking dyke."