Often, in your fledgling young adult years, had you pondered the idea of owning a cat. Many years prior, a domestic shorthair acted as a close bonding friend of yours, leading up until the later stage of your juvenility. Now, with him gone for 3 years now, the idea struck you again. Those little mischievous creatures, with an odd way of intelligence, but kindled stupidity in the slightest of disturbances, had grown on you as the perfect companion when going through tough times.
 
Only a week in, you had lost contact with your girlfriend, who despite a mutual loving relationship, simply couldn’t make it work out. In a neutral departing, you both had decided to remain single for the time being, letting you restructure your lives on your own.
 
On top of this, your first year away from home had been a harsh one to bear alone. Your friends, who all resided in your home town, either stayed or ventured to other places in search of work or study, leaving you alone. While some online contact was regular, no one really got the same stance of friendship to you as the peppy, unusual boy that you had met during his time as a barista, falling in and out of jobs.
 
Hudson Beaumont, known so embarrassingly by his friends as "Hubby", due to being the token stereotypically homosexual friend of the group, was certainly an odd character. Of course, it would be expected that someone like him, being frightened and nervous about every step of his life, would be a noticeable difference from the average person. At a dwarfed 5’4, Hudson often found himself scraping the barrel for companionship, being single for all but 2 months several years back. Most often, he would find himself wildly involved in loving imagination, but never had the gall to see it through.
 
It was only understandable that Hudson would be attached to his new friend. You had known him for a while now, and there was clearly some sort of shared kin of understanding between you and him. Perhaps it was the unbalanced interaction with old friends that drew you together, or maybe the struggles in understanding the various wonders of the contemporary world, but regardless, he managed to stick to your side for quite a long time, enough to move in only a day after leaving his mothers suburban house.
 
Several times, the topic of his strange intricacies came to light in your private thoughts. Sure, he was in line to find a boyfriend sooner or later, but it never occured to you that he had any interest in you. Hudson understood, in his confused little brain, that you certainly weren't the type to be interested in men, as much as he knew. For that reason, no such questions came from him in regards to that matter, and he seemed to keep a good friendship with you on the base of aid, rather than relationship. He definitely had the capacity for love, but was closer to that of a stubby, shortstacked animal who resided in your home, thriving off of attention.
 
Hudson was a fan of cats. He used to volunteer for a local shelter, owned two previously, and seemed himself obsessed with owning one together with his roomie. Stickers adorned the metal flask he carried around almost everywhere, usernames and passwords adorned with cats and the like. You already knew what his reaction would be when you mentioned having owned a cat before. The little apartment which housed you two was about fit for a cat, but in the economic state you both fell within, it would be an expensive venture. Knowing Hudson, he'd probably find a way to get a cat in the house at some point, conventionally or not.
 
The day following, Hudson was acting more odd than he usually was. Talking in hiking pitches, energetic, sprung with more life than usual. Maybe it was some side effect to his "headache" he so complained about before you left to attend a weekend shift. In all his shrimpy lack of willpower, he figured to stay home that day, surely stuck to his bed, probably snoozing all day, but that wasn't too unusual.
 
Stood early in the morning by the door, you scrambled for your keys, which would be a terrible disruption to lose on so late a leave. You ask Hudson if he'd seen them, to which he came sprinting in his peculiar fashion as always, arms to his sides, but one struck 180 degrees up, pitching a chain of various keys in the air.
 
"No worries, I gottem-!" he peeped through his drowsy voice, wobbling himself towards your direction.
 
Fresh from a shower, he tapped his way in puffy slippers and a hardly fitting sweater from the bathroom. Giving a somewhat elegant click of his feet lining together in front of you, he stood straight and handed you the keys, reaching himself upwards without a notion of a pause and drawing his thin arms over your broader shoulders, giving his usual warm hug before you went off. His big, glossy eyes gleamed up at you, resting his head at your chest before stepping back, tucking his hands to hold eachother behind his back.
 
"You have a good day now, m'kay?.. Don't go losin' your stuff again~.."
 
A smile couldn't help but crack across your blush peached face, giving a considerate sigh. In instinct, knowing he half liked and half hated it, one hand reached to the side of his puffy, frizzled hair, holding your palm to the side of his head and caressing the top with your thumb, before giving your thanks and departing, feeling a little bit of sorrow having to close the door in front of him on the way out.
 
You felt a little disturbed by the last couple of steps following your morning routine. Why, was it, that he had your keys? Hadn't they been neatly left on its hook as usual? And if he was so sick as he said he was, what's the bother with getting up so early? Maybe it was just his own natural routine, but whatever it was, he was up to something.
 
As several hours came and went, you trudged home in a most tired fashion. Working yourself to such lengths as you had been was a struggle most hated by your emotional side, but you knew there was a purpose to it. After all, there was the prospect of a dream that one day, you would be coming home to a proud, happy family, of which to raise and give life to. A few people, or at most a person, to come home and relax your worn body with a comforting sensation. For now, Hudson would have to do. His feminine attitude and style matched at least the idea of a partner. But of course, you didn't fall in that line, did you?
 
Only up until now, did a unnerving thought come to your mind. Usually, at this point, if ever Hudson was home first, he would announce his fantastical plans for dinner, asking for advice on simple tasks, or mooching over text to you in hopes to get his way with meaningless household developments that he found neat. Lifting your thick cased phone from the pocket of an autumn chilled jacket, you realized that not once had your closest, needy friend sent you anything, not even some entirely unrelated videos of cats he found on the internet.
 
He must have simply been sick all day, you thought, shuffling through the At this point, little Hubby would have dropped whatever he was doing to come greet you, but when the door swung outwards at your will, no one was there. Why hadn't he come? A strange silence filled the room, only further developing your unsettled confusion. He surely hadn't left, he left his plentifully decorated car right where it was last time, unmoved right outside.
 
As you undressed your outdoor attire, something shuffled in the master bedroom. The second you drew closer to inspect, all movement stopped. Was he moving in his sleep? Why wouldn't he have responded to your entrance? A quick peek inside would clarify everything.
 
 
Upon the bed, knees bent and hands pressed on the mattress, Hudson was...
Laying slouched on top of his own stomach? His sweater lay above the mulching mound, while his usual tights were nowhere to be seen, replaced with the shocking view of skimpy white boxers and short, fuzzy socks. Most noticeable, was his general appearance, simply in the way he was acting. Having donned a headband of cat ears, similar in colour to his own hair, he had one hand raised to his mouth, pretending to lick its back like a cat washing itself.
 
His knees were together, but the lower ends of his legs stuck out to both sides. Squeezed between his thighs was the long end of his extended stomach, boasting a human shape, prodding and groping about from the inside. The clumsily panicked boy stretched his back, pushing his hands deep into his bloated guts, then reaching far outwards, before with a deep sigh, he peered to you, clearly embarrassed.
 
".. Ah-.. Eh, you-.. Uh.."
 
Hudson already ruined his setup. Stricken with fear, he tried to keep his cool. Having just devoured someone alive, it wasn't easy for him to reveal himself so plainly to his friend. Or, at least it was thought he considered you a friend. Knowing his antics, he couldn't help but be obviously drawn to you as more than that. This little stunt proved it well. You knew about vore, and in fact, were quite interested in it. He, being the sneak he was, saw from a unguarded phone when you slept, every detail of your interests.
 
Sitting there on your bed, was both your most trusted friend, as well as his attempt at replicating a catboy, wiggling his rear end as if to replicate having a tail. He lay on top of his struggling meal, stretching his body lengthwise across it, squeezing his thighs around its head and resting his chin on a tightly pressed cylindrical bulge. His little hands, wrapped in sleek, fingerless gloves, which fit the sweater, perched on the edge of the mattress, grabbing at it while kneading his body into the blurbling mass.
 
"Eheh-.. D-Don'tcha' like this kinda stuff.. Dummy?.."
 
Two questions came to mind at once. Why was he doing all of this, and why did he look so.. cute doing it? Was it from this, such a strangely.. arousing sight, that your true interests came out? The glint of passion in Hudson's eyes seemed to know. The throttled stretch in your pants told him so.
 
A set of large hands pushed out, grazing across their captors thighs. Rightfully so, Hudson was more than excited and equally erect. His small form rolled to its side, leaning his head on one arm and stroking his fat guts with the other. The exposed back which was directed to you now contrasted the muffled face of his meal stuffed right between his balloon knot and plumped love sac, both which were covered by a thin layer of cotton.
 
Almost off of instinct, you came up to the side of the bed, by all means at a loss for words. His steaming, groaning, melting stomach yearned to be pet. Your eyes traced from his own, to his stomach, but more importantly the contents inside. How had he done this? Was he doing all this to confess love? If he was, it was working. The rubbing of his head into the soft pillow beside it, like a cat to its owners leg, beckoned you closer. Taking a seat, one hand rested on his gurgling tummy, making Hudson give a slight flinch.
 
"...Haah~.. Ooh.. Thanks, d-dude.. eheh.."
 
Awkward as ever, Hudson, who was ever embarrassed, drew one leg over the top of his stomach, while tugging himself closer to your lap. After a shocked second, he lay there, his tired head on top of your legs, arms reaching around your torso and yawning, sleepy from all the exhausting work of melting down a whole human inside of himself. Accepting your role as his 'owner', a hand of yours settled on his head, brushing through his hair as you would always do before leaving him. A warm feeling made its way to your heart, the same one that came from comforting a tired childhood pet. Hudson, from now on, was your new pet.
 
Squeaking out moans from under his breath, Hudson stretched his aching body. Inside, the sloshing motion of his prey's movement grew stronger, then weaker, and stronger again, as if he was being drained of his life force with every loving prod at his body. The once firm figure began to melt in its form, sludging down to the bottom of Hudson's rosy gut. He scooted upwards, dragging his fat, bulbous mass up, squishing it between his legs, all while being caressed sweetly by one arm leaning across the rear of his shoulders, and the other pressing into his digesting orb of meat.
 
Hudson had planned a far more romantic setup to his scheme. Devouring some innocent man alive, crushing and compressing him into a butt fattening slough on your own bed, then being plowed all while the tight fit of his rear would grow even tighter. Instead, he was resting like a sleeping dog, head on his owners chest and body slouched down. His belly rounded in a bid of struggle, with Hudson's hands stroking across its sides for minutes on end.
 
With a roll into your chest, and the subsequent slosh of thick, steaming slush inside his body, Hudson glanced up at you again.
 
"I'm... really kinda gettin' sleepy.."
 
His pouty voice, which was used only when he really wanted to get his way, begged along side his energy depraved roll of his stomach on top of your legs. It was warm, and felt like a rolling tide of half solid, half liquid soup. Like a water balloon filled with boiling water.
 
".. can you take me to bed-..?"
 
A look like that, with Hudson's flustered cheeks peeking up as he smiled, eyes saggy and posture droopy, could not be ignored. Helping the boy up, you brought yourself off the bed, holding him from two sides underneath his arms, once more, like a cat. He reached out, grasping at the far lengths of your shoulders and struggling to get up. His legs dangled back as he relied almost entirely on your help, letting his broiling ball of fat hang low. His head pushed into your pecs, the fake cat ears pushing upwards against you, just as firm.
 
Settled in his own bed, which was far more dressed in glamour and prettied up for his style, Hudson lay on his stomach. It was a wonderful sight, this pathetic boy, his pot of human soup sprawled out to his width, both legs close together, lifting up a round, bountiful pair of boxers, which were now stretched within the fat developed along the forward lengths of his pretty boy's ass.
 
You understood the situation. Without notice, you lay yourself on top of the boy, though not to put weight on him, rather with your knees to the sides of his waist, hands kneading into his back, eyes glued to the seams of his bottom. Hudson snuggled in with a pillow, his sleepy voice making long drawn squeals of loving intent. Two broad hands found themselves rubbing the spherical hills of fat, held up by equally fat thighs. Tucked right at its bottom, you drew them up to the waist of his undergarments, sliding them off to this ankles.
 
From here, it was almost entirely up to instinct. Spooned up with Hudson, you lay one hand rested across his broad thighs, the other perched at the top of his head, rubbing between the ears. His stomach lay bloated, bubbling with heavy sounds of squeezing deep inside his body, grinding its meal into a slurry. Hudson grinned, watching his wobbling belly work away, feeling his lower half get thicker by the second. His member pressed upwards, firm as stone, which was aptly held in a loving embrace.
 
The contrast, of two friends, now lovers, one slim, tall, and the other a plump bottomed twink, was admirable. Hudson snoozed off, smothering his face into the broad side of a pillow, tucking his lower legs around his partners, while you, so enamored with his display of love, decided to then admit your own love for him.
 
With a hand groping at his firm shaft, bloating balls, and bottom as soft as cotton, it was safe to say that, with this kitty in your arms, your old worries could finally go away.