i don’t care how contrived this is
Fit doing his rounds cleaning the Federation offices and there’s a soundproof room in the basement that is one of the few rooms he’s forbidden to enter. so of course, he eventually lets his curiosity get the best of him and he makes his way in when no one else is down there.
Fit’s jaw drops, because it’s not a high-tech lab or a top secret storage room like he was expecting; it’s a pretty poor excuse for a bedroom. he’s alerted to the sound of a person in the room, curled up in a corner on a cat bed. he wonders why they’d be over there instead of on the much larger human bed that’s also in the room, because he has no way of knowing that Cellbit is isn’t allowed up there unless whoever’s in charge of him wants him up there.
Fit drops his cleaning supplies, kneeling down to help Cellbit. but of course, Cellbit is a dumb kitty- he doesn’t understand human speech! so when Fit gets his attention, Cellbit immediately goes to the only thing he know how to do when someone comes to his room: he paws at Fit’s lap, nudging his head against Fit’s thighs and crotch, much to Fit’s confusion.
Fit tries to push Cellbit off of him, asks him a firm “Cellbit, what’s wrong?” but Cellbit lets out only a pathetic “mrrrp” in response, staring up at Fit with big, wet eyes.
The sound of the door locking tears Fit from his utter confusion. He turns, seeing Cucurucho standing there. Before Fit can start tearing into him, Cucurucho begins a long-winded monologue of explanation.
“Welcome to the Federation’s Official Stress Relief Room. As part of the continued effort to keep Quesadilla Island as happy and smooth-running as possible, the Federation provides this new amenity to all qualifying employees at no extra cost.”
Fit looks the bear up and down, trying his best to ignore how Cellbit is still nuzzling into his side. “Uh huh. Amenity?”
“Studies show that pet ownership can reduce stress by at least forty percent. Employees may spend time with the Federation’s new Stress Relief Tool however they wish in order to reduce stress and maximize efficency.”
Fit flinches when Cellbit sits on top of his thigh, grinding down and tucking his head into the crook of Fit’s neck.
“Please use the Federation’s new Stress Relief Tool to your advantage.”
Fit shakes his head, gently trying to push Cellbit off of him. “No fucking way I’m gonna do that.”
Fit doesn’t need to look back at Cucurucho to know that white fucker has a gun pointed at him.
“Please use the Federation’s new Stress Relief Tool to your advantage.”
It’s hard to ignore the trembling man grinding into his lap. It’s also hard to ignore the gun pointed at his head. Fit finds it disgusting that they’ve clearly done something to Cellbit, made the island genius into whatever the brainless thing desperately humping Fit’s leg is now.
He finds it even more disgusting that it’s working. The small, catlike noises leaving the man’s mouth and dampness growing between his legs were doing their job to weaken Fit’s resolve in defying Cucurucho.
Closing his eyes, Fit takes a dizzyingly deep breath. He rationalizes this the best he can. How did Cellbit end up here anyway? For all I know, he asked for this. But that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that if I don’t do this, Cucurucho will kill us.
Fit opens his eyes. He places a hand on Cellbit’s cheek, making the little cat slow his movements. Gently, he picks Cellbit up and carries him over to the big bed, because he’s afraid that Cellbit won’t know what he means if he asks him point blank to move.
He gets Cellbit to lay down, stretching out and mewling contentedly. Fit can still feel Cucurucho in the room, so he wills himself past the wrongness in his brain and peels off Cellbit’s boxers. Cellbit lifts his hips like it’s second nature and once the offending garment is gone, he turns over onto his hands and knees, presenting himself to Fit, head kneading the mattress.
“No, no-“ Fit insists. He turns Cellbit back over, taking in the confused look on his face. “Get comfortable.”
“Mrrp?” Cellbit tilts his head to the side. He’s clearly hard, but that seems to be of no interest to Cellbit as he waits patiently for his next orders from Fit, and whatever Fit just told him wasn’t something he recognized.
Fit sighs. He considers what to do next. And then he hears the gun click again. He’s taking too long.
He knows what Cucurucho is doing. They’re making him complicit in whatever crime this is. And Fit is falling for it. He’s never gonna feel like he can do anything to save Cellbit from this if he partakes in it. But the way he’s acting has to make Fit consider… is there anything Cellbit really even wants saved from?
He can’t dwell. He undresses himself, trying to ignore how red his face gets when he realizes that Cucurucho is seeing him naked and half-hard, and climbs onto the bed, over top of Cellbit.
As if his mind is being read, a tiny bottle is dropped onto the bed. Fit looks back at Cucurucho, who is still standing there, staring, unmoving. The gun is still in their hand, but at least it’s at their side instead of pointed directly at Fit.
Fit tries not to pay attention to the litany of scars and bruises all over Cellbit’s body- particularly, how fresh they are. Or to how controlled his noises are, as if he’s scared of being hurt if he screams. Or the disgusting squelch that comes from Fit pressing a lubed finger into Cellbit’s hole, how Fit doesn’t even want to guess how many have used and abused it in the past week alone.
But Fit especially, especially tries not to pay attention to how every little movement, every noise that leaves Cellbit’s mouth makes Fit’s cock twitch in anticipation, and Cellbit can see it too.
He takes his time stretching Cellbit out. Just because most of these Federation freaks have been brutalizing him, it doesn’t mean Fit needs to. That’s what he has on repeat in his mind as he slicks up his cock. When he sees Cellbit licking his lips. When he gently moves Cellbit’s legs over his hips. When he eases into Cellbit’s hole and almost completely falls apart at the sight of his cock sinking in. When Cellbit purrs and clenches around Fit’s cock.
Fit’s still not great at this. He’s a little rickety as he tries to start thrusting in and out of Cellbit at an easy pace. His hips stutter, he reaches out his hand and splays it across Cellbit’s chest to steady himself, but Cellbit doesn’t seem to mind any of it. His eyes flutter shut, purring contentedly as he does the thing he’s the very best at, the only thing he was ever made to do.
It’s probably a blessing in disguise that Fit is such a quickshot, actually. It means he very quickly works himself up, forgetting everything else in the room, rutting himself into Cellbit furiously as he chases his orgasm. His cock disappearing and reappearing in Cellbit, causing a bulge to protrude from the kitty’s abdomen whenever Fit is sat fully inside, the way his cute little tits bounce with every thrust… he’s a fucking vision. No wonder the Federation wanted him all to themselves.
Before he can even think to pull out, Fit is spilling inside of Cellbit. His vision whites out, hot cum painting Cellbit’s walls as Fit yelps out over his orgasm.
This is usually the point where the Fed workers will pull out, slap Cellbit on the ass, maybe promise him a cat treat, and then leave him to try and lick himself clean. But Fit just can’t bring himself to do that. Not when Cellbit’s still ferociously hard. So he does pull out, and then leans over Cellbit’s writhing body and wraps a hand around his cock, using the little cat’s own leaky precum to get him off.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Fit whispers in Cellbit’s ear, pretending he’s whispering sweet nothings or whatever the fuck Cucurucho wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you want out of here. Just find a way to let me know. Let me help you.”
Cellbit likes the deep voice in his ear, and the hand around his cock, and the cum leaking out of his ass, so he whimpers and yelps as he arches up into Fit’s grip and cums all over his hand.
It’s a shame the dumb little kitty couldn’t understand what the nice voice was actually saying.
