Mr. Scruffy/Lord Shojo

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty! Mr Scruffy?”

The sound reverberated around the deserted corridors, echoing forlornly in the musty, stale air. No one must have been down here in years and I was revelling in the freedom, but he sounded like he was falling behind so I stuck my head round the corner and meowed at him.

“There you are silly cat! Come to Shojo, come on now. What are you doing down here anyway?”

Little did he know how much I had longed for an opportunity, how long I had planned; switching his belt for a Girdle of Feminity/Masculinity so no one would recognise him and then leading him down here, away from prying eyes; but soon, soon it would all come to fruition, not much longer now. Darting into a room on the right I hid just inside the door and waited, meowing to attract his attention. He hesitated for a moment on the threshold and I could feel my breath coming faster as the excitement built. Just a little farther, a couple more steps, then he was in the room and with a twitch of my claw I closed and locked the door. The only light came from the candles on the exquisitely set table, each piece I had dragged down myself from the kitchen. A bottle of wine was already open with two glasses poured and a little something extra in his goblet, a pink liquid with an oily sheen. I wound round and through his legs purring, tonight should be magical.

“You’re rather affectionate tonight, Mr Scruffy.”

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