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Maid May: Tabby and the Pussycats

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The doorbell rang five times. Three times in rapid succession, a pause, and then twice more. It’s not like I took my sweet ass time getting there. I shuffled over as fast as I could, with bits of breakfast toast still crumbled over my shirt. I quickly dusted off what I could and opened the door.  


I blinked. I saw her mouth open but didn’t hear a sound.


“Oh! Hi!” I composed myself, running a hand through my hair and surveying the petite young woman on my porch. She had pink pastel pigtails, tattered jeans, and a white shirt with the outline of a derpy-looking cat. She clutched her bucket of cleaning supplies tightly. 

“I’m here from Maid May’s.” She looked down and away.

I didn’t blame her. I’m sure it’s a lot easier to clean houses when the owner isn’t home. But Maid May’s explicitly stated that the contractee needs to be happy with the service before a job is completed.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Uh, do you need help with anything?”

“N-no. I’m Tabby.” 

Tabby pushed past me, her curls hitting me in the face. I sputtered when some of the pink strands stuck to my lip. I guess my mouth was hanging open.

Tabby stood in the middle of the living room, scanning over the two-story townhome. I closed the door quietly and walked over to the kitchen island. I grabbed the pamphlet for “Maid May’s.” Looking at Tabby again, I felt perplexed. She was a total oddball. The ad was standard. Typical cleaning services, Gettysburg stock photos of women who supposedly enjoyed the job. Nothing out of the ordinary. I already felt confident I wouldn’t be making a contract with Tabby. Nevertheless, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt and at the very least get my place cleaned up for today. 

“What a sty.”

The voice was so tiny, but I heard it. It didn’t sound quite like Tabby, but it had to have been her. 

“It’s not that bad,” I said mostly to myself. I was hurt, honestly. I lived alone, sure, but for the most part the bachelor life hadn’t turned me into a complete slob. I supposed I didn’t need all this space to myself. There were a few papers scattered around, three (or maybe five) half-full cans of Sapporo… The kitchen was terrible. I’d give her that. I can’t cook, and it shows. 

Tabby turned around with a look of mortification. Her eyes were big, and her lip looked like it was trembling. She bowed low, her hair flying up around her. 

“Please forgive me Sir. I – you, you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Tabby shuffled over to my hallway and bowed again before disappearing. It wasn’t long before her head peeked around the wall.

“Which way is the bathroom, Sir? Sorry.”

“Down the hall, to the right.” 

I sighed, watching her vanish again. I suddenly felt winded.  Grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge, I set one down for Tabby. I contemplated grabbing a beer, but that’d be unprofessional. Instead, I chugged my water, trying to shake off the sudden exhaustion. Getting the last chug down the hatch failed me, though. When Tabby reappeared, the liquid came right back up and everywhere. Tabby was… sexy. Was that the right word? When she asked for the bathroom, I assumed she was putting her hair up or getting her gloves. Instead, she was putting on a kinky, French maid outfit. Her hair ribbons looked suspiciously like cat ears.  

“S-sorry,” I said. I went for the paper towels, trying to avert my eyes. I think I saw areolas. Perfectly pink, and perky…. 

“I’ll get it, sir.” Tabby blushed and clutched the hem of her dress while she walked past me. 

“Look, uh, Tabby. What… What the hell are you wearing?” I snatched the pamphlet off the island again, this time looking for the fine print. Nothing. I watched the door, waiting for an undercover cop to bust me for “happy ending” maids or something.  

“It’s mandatory, Sir, but I-I can change back into my jeans if you don’t like it.” Tabby said this while she bent down to wipe my spit-water off the floor. I covered my eyes too late: I had already seen the sheer, pearl-colored panties, tufts of lace, shoved between her ass cheeks. I cleared my throat and turned away, only to feel Tabby’s hands clutch the back of my calf. She was wiping some spilled water around my feet, though her hand was inching upwards slowly. At least, I think it was. 

When I opened my mouth to ask what the hell Tabby was doing, a meow followed. Panic settled into my gut before realizing it wasn’t me, but a grey and white kitten rubbing up against my foot. Like a pussy I yelled and accidentally kicked the small cat away—not hard, I hoped.  

“Where – where did that come from!?” I shouted.

“Ugh!” Tabby squeaked and pulled herself up off the floor. (I would miss the sensation of her hand halfway up my thigh.) She grabbed the kitten and shoved it into her bucket. “P-please ignore him; he’s not supposed to be out!” Tabby turned back to start in the kitchen, flashing me her ass again. She tapped the bucket with her foot on her way back, and I swear she hissed.

“I’ll get started on the kitchen, sir.” She curtseyed. 

I was at a loss for words, but had to admit her breasts looked good under the frills. Leaving the kitchen, I investigated the bucket to find the tiny, grey cat peering back at me from between cleaning supplies. It looked mad—at me specifically. I stuck my tongue out at him and wobbled into the living area in fatigue. I collapsed on the couch. I took one last glance at Tabby’s ass and reconsidered making her change. 

“Let me know if I can get you anything,” I offered. 

Tabby only nodded at me from the kitchen, and I let my head roll back onto the cushion. This was going to be a long day… 

“What a loser.”

“Is he dead?”

“Tabby-san likes him.”

I jolted awake at the feeling of tiny claws kneading my skin and whispers in my head. Staring back at me were four little kittens. I didn’t know how, but I knew they were talking shit about me. I jumped up from my seat and the kittens scattered. 

“TABBY!” I shouted.

I heard tiny feet running down my stairs in a hurry. Coming from my room, Tabby bounced down the steps, her breasts popping out from poorly constructed bra cups. She didn’t seem to notice this, but my dick did, and I quickly sat back down to cross my legs.

“Y-y-yes? What’s wrong, Sir?” she asked innocently.

“Why are there four cats in my house? I can look past one but”—


The small, airy voice of tiny Tabby boomed through the house.I damn near fell off the couch, clutching the armrest for security. I watched, distressed, rising boner dissipating while four kittens sauntered out from various corners of my home. They lined up obediently in front of me, ears flat, eyes cast down. 

“Apologize to Sir right now,” Tabby huffed, boobs exposed. I couldn’t choose between watching the cats or staring at Tabby. Tabby, cats, Tabby, cats… I know what my dick wanted—and no, it wasn’t the kittens.

“Now git!” Tabby ordered. The cats scattered again and disappeared inside the bucket. I briefly wondered how they all fit in there. 

Tabby had ninjaed over and was climbing on top of me. 

“Whoa, whoa uh… Tabby. Look.”

“Please forgive them, Sir. They’re just jealous.” Tabby padded at my shirt much as the kittens had done earlier. 

“Wha-what the hell is happening here.” I felt dizzy. Tabby’s sudden confidence was so far removed from her earlier shyness. The smell of light floral and the feel of her milky skin was intoxicating. I liked the way her hair felt while it fells around my face.  

Tabby planted her lips on mine, breasts squashing up against my chest. I forgot about the cats. I remembered the FBI, but I kissed her back anyways. 

When she let me breathe, Tabby was straddled over my lap, her top down past her shoulders, her skirt bunched up around her hips. 

“Is this part of the Maid May’s services?” I laughed at my own stupidity. I was about to get laid by the maid.

Tabby smiled at me and nuzzled close. “It can be if you promise not to tell Maid May about my cats.” She leaned in close to my ear, nipping at the lobe. Was she purring? She was purring.

“She’s doing it again.”

My head spun over to the bucket. Tabby’s teeth catching on the skin. Four pairs of beady eyes watched us over the lip of her bucket. They squinted at me hard.

“Did one of them just talk?” I asked.

Tabby gently pulled my attention back to her while one hand undid the zipper of my jeans. I flipped off the kittens and admired Tabby’s soft body. When the thin material of her panties touched the tip of my dick, I knew I’d be making a contract with Tabby after all. 

“I promise not to tell,” I trailed off…

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