Work Text:
Mid-February. Winter. Boon County.
"Good morning, Boon County! You are listening to WMEW 99.9. After a night of heavy snow, many roads are covered in a blanket of white. Watch out for frostbite on your kitty paws, because your paws are already pink. Meow!
This next one's called 'Sad Cat Lady,' and it illustrates the problem of havin' so many kids you don't even know their names, you have to have someone else count 'em out loud for you."
As Magdalene stepped up the wooden stairs, the sound of the radio playing on the first floor grew fainter and fainter.
A few nights ago, she had adopted two excellent cats. One of them had sturdy ribs that felt hard to the touch, while the other had fluffy paws and a large frame. She was ecstatic; these were exactly the traits she wanted in a good cat. She remembered how, just a couple of days prior, she had gleefully placed these two tiny new family members in the attic, which happened to be the largest room in her sizeable residence.
She thought to herself that after a night of mating, they would be able to produce some fantastic kittens. A smile couldn't help but spread across her plump face, pushing the extra flesh around her mouth all the way to her earlobes.
Turning the doorknob to the top floor, an extremely chaotic scene greeted her eyes. After a night of uproar, the previously arranged bookshelves and tables had been shifted. Blocks had spilled from their boxes and been kicked everywhere by the cats, and furballs were stuck to the curtains and the carpet.
But none of this mattered. She temporarily turned a blind eye to the feces on the floor, shooed away dozens of fighting cats, shouted at them to be quiet, and shoved aside the cluttered food storage bins to look for the kitten in the cat bed. After finally navigating those few difficult meters, sure enough, there was a kitten with black fur, bright piercing eyes, and a white gradient patch above its lip, resting quietly in the bed and purring. Both its expression and appearance were remarkably similar to the two cats she had adopted a few days ago.
Magdalene was overjoyed. She clenched her fists against her chest and swayed from side to side. Still feeling this wasn't enough to relieve her excessive joy, she picked the kitten up and spun in circles, once, twice... until she was so exhausted and panting so uncontrollably that she had to reluctantly place it back into the cat bed. Stroking its furry cheek with her fat fingers, she murmured into its eyes, "Little cutie, what kind of collar should I give you? Hunter, maybe? Because you have vitality, which neutralizes the dangers of the adventure, and you also have very hard ribs, able to target distant enemies..."
·
“Magdalene! Magdalene!”
Just as she was reluctantly parting from the kitten, a familiar voice sounded faintly from outside.
At first, Magdalene thought she was hallucinating. After all, it was so cold outside that no one with any common sense would choose to visit her at a time like this. Meters of snow had piled up so high that the front door on the first floor was nearly impossible to open. Even if the weather weren’t so freezing, who would bother visiting a "cat lady" for no reason? Her doubts only lingered until she saw the cats prick up their ears, looking nervous; some even arched their backs with their fur standing on end, making hissing sounds. Only then did she realize she wasn't just hearing things.
Stepping forward, she pushed against the window with all her might, using her body weight just to force it open. A clump of snow tumbled to the ground with a thud, and she peered down.
It was a man she knew. Dr. Beanies.
He was wearing a tattered lab coat, pointing his finger toward the sky with a look of utter frustration. Beyond that, he was glaring up at her with a vicious intensity. His mouth was open, clearly saying something, but he was too far away to be heard. His cracked glasses were held together with tape, barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. As usual, he was still wearing those dark, filthy gloves. His messy remaining hair stood up on his balding head—this man combed his hair into the shape of cat ears every single day! She wanted to laugh every time she saw it.
Thomas A. Beanies was a self-proclaimed cat genetic scientist. He once had a laboratory (actually a converted residential house). The history between the two of them dated back a year.
A year ago, she had fallen into a deep sleep; darkness shrouded her vision and her breathing grew faint. Thinking she was about to die, she closed her eyes. But the darkness lasted only a moment. With the sound of an electrical hum, she suddenly jolted. Opening her eyes, she saw a massive face right in front of her—the face of an old scientist who looked surprisingly youthful in spirit, looming so close it left her speechless with shock.
Of course, that was simply Dr. Beanies shouting “SCIENCE!” and reviving her from her coma. He excitedly went on at great length about the scientific nature of cats and the bizarre theory that cats could save the world. He later gave Magdalene a special kitten. This was part of a cat population in Boon County that had emerged under his influence, requiring only a single day to reach adulthood. From then on, she had spent many days with these cats and Dr. Beanies himself.
Snapping back from her memories, Magdalene couldn't help but sigh; she really didn't want to see him. She gripped the windowsill, intending to shout down at him. However, knowing that such a move would be foolish, she grabbed the sides of her skirt and went clattering down the stairs.
She figured that whatever was coming probably wouldn't be good. Dr. Beanies had always been a madman with a severe personality disorder. That wasn't a clinical diagnosis, and she wasn't a physician, but anyone who had ever spoken to him knew the guy was a freak. He had a peculiar obsession with experiments, constantly working on interspecies hybrids and robots, and would sometimes say things that sounded like human trafficking or federal crimes.
But surprisingly, could one really say he lacked a moral compass? Sometimes he seemed to have plenty of common sense. He knew how to socialize, understood social subtext, and could occasionally discuss history and economics with reasonable arguments and a vast vocabulary. On the other hand, most of the time he wasn't like that at all! He would just babble excitedly, saying terrifying things, or preach about the benefits of cat worship while simultaneously advocating for cat abuse, not to mention going on at length about his libido. In short, he didn't harm her, but the man had a unique talent for leaving anyone he spoke to with post-traumatic stress.
Throughout the past year, he would always mysteriously call her to his lab, saying things like, “A new invention appears! This time it will definitely make me a billionaire!” Then he would give her some mixture of urine, mustard, and secretions from other creatures, calling it "experimental treatment" (which sounded a lot like the treatment her late son used to take). She used these things on her cats, and he wouldn't have much of a reaction. But if she happened to lose his "trash," he would get terrifyingly angry. When he was mad, he would let out a scream like a boiling tea kettle, cursing her as a "useless idiot," throwing objects, and kicking her out, yelling, "I'm never speaking to you again!"
Yet, a few days later, the cycle would repeat, and he would happily invite her over again to tell her about his latest invention. That was the nature of their relationship.
When Magdalene opened the door for him, he was already waiting at the entrance. He stood there with his arms wrapped around himself, clutching his lab coat and shivering all over, his breath turning into white mist. As soon as he saw Magdalene, he beamed, his expression shifting to one of pure ecstasy. Then, uninvited, he ducked straight into her home. He kept rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air into his palms—even though Magdalene didn't understand how blowing through gloves provided any warmth, she figured it was just for psychological comfort.
His boots were still covered in snow, leaving a trail of water that dirtied the entrance floor. He turned his head and said, "It is cold outside on winter days."
"Yes, Dr. Beanies. What brings you here?"
"Alright, alright. I know saying things like 'Hey, I just wanted to see you' is unreliable to you. The truth is simple: it's just too cold outside. Hobos like us... you know! There’s nowhere to stay in the winter! I mean, actually, there's nowhere to stay in the other seasons either."
She thought about it carefully. Although she didn't really want him inside and wanted to turn him away immediately, watching his misery made her feel a pang of pity. She couldn't help but think that if he ended up a frozen corpse in the wilderness, it would become her problem.
"Oh... poor thing," she said with a bitter expression, letting him in and quietly closing the door. "Well then, please, come in. My house is a mess, but I guess you won't mind."
Before Magdalene could finish, he snapped, "Hey! Don't you go acting all ignorant and pitying me! You're the reason I lost my lab! I'm out here wandering, and you bear full responsibility for it!" Dr. Beanies pointed his finger aggressively, nearly poking her in the nose.
"...Ow, I pulled a tendon," he grimaced, sticking out his tongue and clutching his hand with a groan. Seeing that the cats near the entrance had been scared off, he smoothed over the awkwardness. He shook his hand and wiped it twice on his lab coat. "...Anyway, back to the subject. The garbage station near the lab is too cold and I can't stay there anymore. I need to bunk with you for a few days."
"Well... I guess so. But how long do you plan on staying?"
"What do you mean, 'how long'?" He looked at her as if he hadn't considered the question once. He formed a 'V' with his thumb and index finger, placing them on his chin. "Well... I suppose I'll stay until the weather isn't so cold anymore. If it really comes down to it, I'll pay you for the lodging."
·
Dr. Beanies hadn't showered in a long time, so she urged him to use her bathroom.
"I don't have any clothes to change into," Beanies said, rummaging through a cardboard box of salvaged items—mostly just a few pairs of underwear. After all, he had almost been hit by a half-human Delta and caught the Ebola virus. "So you can't blame me for this."
She sighed, "You brought this on yourself. But, fine, I guess you can wear my former husband's old clothes."
"Oh, is that okay?" Dr. Beanies turned around, his eyes wide. "I know you have a son, his corpse is still in your backyard! Won't this make you think of sad things?"
She really wanted to snap at him and ask how he knew Isaac's body was in her backyard, but she didn't feel like getting into it. She crossed her arms and clicked her tongue. Trying her best not to show her sadness, she whimpered, "It’s fine. I don't have any use for them anyway."
·
Life together became natural, and looking back, a month had already passed.
Ever since she got her cats, Magdalene had quit her bad habits; she no longer drank or smoked, went to bed early, and stayed away from anything harmful. Despite the house being cluttered with a hundred cats, there was enough room for one more person—especially for a hobo like him, whose demands for quality of life were low. It went without saying that they would sleep separately.
However, Thomas had told her many times that his lifestyle habits were terrible. Without alcohol and drugs, his withdrawal symptoms were so severe that even his blood vessels would ache. She warned him sternly that if he wanted to stay, he could not bring those things inside, regardless of the excuse.
Then came that night. Magdalene was startled awake by the sound of crashing and shattering coming from Dr. Beanies' bedroom downstairs. She walked quietly to the kitchen and asked, "Thomas?"
Sure enough, there he was, having smashed the household plates all over the floor. The scene made her gasp. He was crying and swearing, with blood on the floor, shouting fragmented words. He kept calling out the name "Stacy." Despite the horrific scene, her eyes held no disgust—only pure pity. Unlike his usual moments of condescending arrogance, this was the first time she had seen his outward agony. She truly felt sorry for him—perhaps she realized there was a reason behind all his outrageous behavior?
Just as she loved Isaac but lost him, he loved Stacy but lost her.
Seeing him like that, her body trembled, and she found herself crying too. She stepped forward and hugged him from behind, whispering comforts into his ear over and over. Once he quieted down, she told him he could come to her room and sleep with her, saying that perhaps the night wouldn't be so terrifying that way.
Every day thereafter, Magdalene went to sleep earlier than he did.
She wasn't particularly fond of seeing what Beanies did with the cats in her room. Since these cats were his "creations," were they technically his property? Still, she couldn't stand how he observed them—grabbing them by the scruff, prying at their ears, and yanking their tails while looking quite pleased with himself despite their screams.
She lay in bed early, feeling uneasy. Though she did so to avoid his face, he was all she thought about before falling asleep.
Now, she wondered: was she making a mistake? Even now, she didn't understand if this lunatic, who, in his moments of madness(or perhaps his lucid ones), would chop off her cats' tails actually deserved to live in her home. Yet, they had been sleeping in each other's arms for a month. It was only now she realized these feelings were no longer simple. If having such a person sleeping beside her made her feel safe rather than afraid, what was she to conclude?
She pretended to close her eyes, waiting for the nightly sensation of him sleeping on her other side, habitually hugging her body from behind. But she quickly drifted into a dream where that warm, somewhat abrupt touch seemed to exist, yet didn't.
·
At that moment, they were sitting in the kitchen having dinner.
On the plates was roasted chicken breast with broccoli. Dr. Beanies used his fork to stab a piece of broccoli with a death grip, his expression solemn as if he were confronting an enemy. His face wrinkled like a bitter melon, but he eventually succumbed to hunger and swallowed it with difficulty.
"...You know what? This reminds me of my mother," he mumbled. He twirled his fork and continued, "Actually, my mother loved making broccoli when I was a kid. I hated it, but she kept forcing me to eat it."
Magdalene chewed quietly and replied flatly, "Now, both you and I have reached the age of the mother you're talking about. Have you ever thought of that?"
Dr. Beanies froze, his fork nearly slipping. He grabbed his hair, leaning his head against his forearm on the table. "Damn it! Why is time linear?!"
"Stop making such a fuss. That’s just the way it is." Magdalene swallowed her last bite. "Also, you’re still doing the dishes. That was the deal."
"...Fine. Whoever cooks, the other does the dishes." He lifted his head, squinting at her. "I think whoever made up this rule is absolutely cruel and mean."
"Who told you that you can't cook?" Magdalene teased. "I simply put some oil on the food and shoved it in the oven. I don't want to judge your 'science,' but how can you not even know how to cook?"
"...Next time we should just get some frozen pizzas," he muttered. He stood up to clear the plates but suddenly paused. "Hey, uh, Magdalene..."
"Yes?"
"Um..." He coughed twice. "I was thinking..."
"Yes?" Her voice grew a bit louder.
"Hey, I was thinking, since we finished dinner together, aren't you going to give me a kiss?"
Hearing this, Magdalene instinctively took two steps back, she ‘eww'-ed twice, her face full of disdain. "Who wants to kiss you, weirdo."
His expression looked as if he had swallowed a fly. "What?! Clearly, you have a problem understanding my vocabulary!" He clenched his fists, speaking with his usual tense, angry face.(even now, the bruises from when his lab specimens beat him during the mutiny hadn't fully subsided.) "You eat my food, live in my house, sleep in my bed, I pay your rent and utilities, isn't asking for a kiss the most normal request in the world?!"
"Can you be normal for once? You're my guest!" Magdalene wanted to say that aloud, but something stopped her. In truth, why had she agreed to sleep together, eat together, and spend all this time with him? She craved his warmth in her sleep. But she didn't know if this man could really be trusted, or if his "like" carried the same weight as hers.
Magdalene tugged at her skirt and pondered for a moment. She sighed. "Alright... honestly, I haven't made up my mind yet." Her expression became serious. "Thomas, I haven't really figured out what my feelings for you are. I think you like me, but do you truly feel the same way I do? I don't know."
He began tracing circles on the table. A heavy silence followed, broken only by a cat meowing behind the kitchen door.
She glanced toward the door, then let out a heavy sigh. "Forget it... Have you rinsed your mouth? I always feel like your breath smells like fish."
His lips twitched; he was speechless at first, then suddenly overjoyed, nearly jumping with excitement. He ran to the edge of the kitchen, rubbed his teeth with his fingers, and rushed back to hug her. After the long hug, he raised his head, his voice shrill: "...I don't know, I haven't kissed a woman in a very long time... I..."
Magdalene lowered her head slightly and kissed him.
To her surprise, Thomas's tongue was soft and flexible—perhaps that was why his way of speaking was so obnoxious. He hooked her lips, occasionally brushing against the roof of her mouth, making Magdalene feel a tingle that left her floating. She saw that his face was flushed deep red. She stroked his cheek, tilting his face up as he rested his hands on her waist.
She was no longer slender; childbirth and depression had stripped away her curves. But in the way he looked at her, staring straight into her eyes rather than looking down, she felt respected.
When they finally pulled apart, she laughed nervously. "I don't know... I don't know if God will resent me for this. I haven't forgotten the past, it's just..."
"I don't believe for a second that the old man likes seeing people happy, do you? He resents us because we're doing too well right now." Beanies' tone was light and arrogant. His hand, covered in calluses and with veins like withered branches, quietly slipped under her clothes. "Don't you think so? That damn old bastard?"
The moment his hand touched her, her body trembled.
"... Ugh, do you not like it?" Beanies looked confused, his face still very red.
"It's just... I haven't been touched by anyone in a long time," Magdalene said, biting her lip.
"That's good then." He was sweating. While watching her eyes, he continued to stroke upward—her navel, then her breasts. He kneaded her nipples, making her tremble all over, while reaching out his tongue for another kiss.
"Do you think we should go to the bed?" Beanies asked. "It's just... I can't carry you."
"You should exercise more," Magdalene teased. She touched his earlobe and kissed his cheek again. "I think we should go to the room."
·
Magdalene walked in front, her heavy frame echoing on the wooden stairs. The person following her made lighter sounds behind her. They were holding hands. Dr. Beanies had just confessed to having "hand-holding anxiety", so Magdalene just gripped his crooked index finger, as if she were dragging him upstairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced back, but Dr. Beanies was busy observing a few black cats under the stairs, not daring to look at her.
When they reached the room, Beanies sat on the edge of the bed. A slight bulge was visible beneath the fabric of his trousers, and he gazed up at her with a nervous, trembling intensity.
Magdalene looked down, surveying him as a wanton smile spread across her face. From this downward angle, his balding head looked particularly awkward, yet the sheer absurdity of the scene only fueled a desire that was becoming nearly unbearable. "I certainly didn't see this coming," she giggled.
"Expected what?" Beanies asked, his voice thick with curiosity. She wasn't about to tell him that her sudden rush of excitement was, in part, triggered by the sight of his peculiar hair.
"Never mind, you old fossil," she laughed. She glanced at the cluttered bed they shared every night, now seeing the stray cat hair and tangled quilts in a new light. Under her current scrutiny, the mess felt strangely domestic, as if they truly were a long-married couple who had spent a lifetime in this house.
Shaking off these unrealistic thoughts, she hurried to undress, tossing her clothes carelessly onto the chair by the door. Though she stood before him naked, her demeanor remained entirely natural. She stepped forward and sat beside him, her heavy thighs pressing firmly against his. She leaned in close, stroking his skin as she whispered a question, asking why he was still fully clothed.
Beanies turned his head to kiss her again, but when they pulled apart, he only stammered, refusing to give a straight answer. Puzzled, she continued to caress his body, resting her head against his shoulder for support.
She reached into his trousers, her hand finding the heat of his cock. His penis wasn't fully hard yet, but it was radiating an intense warmth that made her own palm feel cool by comparison. She immediately understood the reason for his hesitation, with a knowing smile.
"And here I thought you were just messing with me when you babbled on about taking 'Vitamin V,'" she teased.
"I really should have brought the cases containing my Viagra and Cialis," he muttered defensively. "How was I supposed to know our relationship would ever turn into this?"
"Liar," she countered.
"Sss..." Dr. Beanies let out a sharp hiss of a groan. "Ahhhh... slow down, slow down!"
Magdalene increased the pace of her hand, pushing him past the threshold of easy stimulation. Caught in a blur of pleasure and overwhelming sensation, his hands instinctively moved to grip her waist—not to push her away, but to steady himself as he surrendered to her touch.
Magdalene reached out from his trousers to begin unfastening his clothes. He was still layered in his grey lab coat, the grey base-layer wool sweater she had found for him, and a tattered white shirt—the same one he had worn when he first arrived, which she had later hand-washed for him.
As she removed his clothes layer by layer, his body was finally fully exposed to her. She watched as his breathing quickened with nerves; his grey chest hair rose and fell with his chest, a stark and jarring sight. His skin was even paler than his flushed pink face, and his abdomen was drawn in from the cold. Beanies panted softly, watching her finish undressing him until his penis was revealed.
She noted that his penis was slightly firmer than when she had first caressed him, yet she herself was already incredibly wet. She took a moment to appreciate the scene with a meaningful gaze. He was circumcised. The tender head was held high, glistening with the fluid, the pre-ejaculate from her earlier touch. The fluid had dampened his underwear and his grey pubic hair, and a salty, musky scent began to fill the air.
Magdalene reached out to continue jerking him off . Though she could tell he was excited beyond measure, he was still only semi-erect. "...I..." he began, looking awkwardly into her eyes, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. "It doesn't just get hard whenever I want it to."
She simply shrugged, wearing an "of course" expression as if she had expected as much. She knelt by the side of the bed and looked up into his eyes; he stared back at her, visibly tense. Leaning forward, she took him into her mouth to give him a blowjob.
She began by licking, circling the head and using her saliva to lubricate him while her hand moved in rhythm. Then, she took him in deep, moving slowly and repeating the motion many times. She even used her other hand to cup and gently lift his testicles. He leaned his head back in bliss, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Under her skillful work, he finally became hard.
"In a bit... you can put two or three fingers up my ass," he whispered, stroking her yellow curls to signal her to stop. The pleasure from her oral sex had been so intense that his eyes were nearly rolling back into his head. "It'll make me harder. That's what I do when I masturbate. Don't judge me, straight men have prostate pleasure too. I didn't make the rules!"
Magdalene slightly nodded. She stood up slowly and pushed Beanies back onto the bed. She turned her back to him, pausing for a moment to seek his silent consent. When Beanies hooked his hands firmly onto her waist, she lowered herself onto him, guiding his penis into her vagina.
"Ah, ah, ohhh!" the man beneath her let out a string of lewd cries as the sensation of insertion overwhelmed him. "Oh my God, my God, Magdalene, I never imagined..."
She began to rock her hips back and forth, the wet sounds of their love-making filling the room. Moaning as she felt their union, she leaned down and used her right hand, moistening her index and middle fingers with saliva. She applied it to his ass and smoothly inserted the two fingers.
The opening wasn't particularly tight. She explored within, searching for the firm spot. As her fingers entered him, she felt his entire body stiffen, and the warmth inside her grew even larger and more engorged. Caught up in her own peak of pleasure, she hooked her fingers upward, pressing against his prostate.
"Oh, oh, OHHH..." Dr. Beanies’ entire body trembled involuntarily; he moaned like a small boy. He was unable to form a coherent sentence, gasping for air as sweat soaked his skin. His lower body moved in a frantic, instinctive rhythm, driving into her so hard that Magdalene couldn't help but groan along with him, all while maintaining the rhythmic hooking of his P-spot.
"My God, my God... the fingers in my ass... this feels so much better than Stacy's palms, ohhh!" His cries were super disturbing — "I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, ahhh!"
The warm semen filled Magdalene’s body, leaving her feeling thick and sticky at the point of contact. She panted heavily, standing up while holding onto his legs. A mixture of white and transparent fluids trailed down her thighs. She arched her back, showing him the aftermath of their encounter.
Then, she crawled up the bed to sit over his chest. The intense exertion had left her breathless. Rubbing her clit, she looked down at him and asked, "I haven't hit my orgasm yet. Help me out?"
Beanies squinted and gave a slight, weary nod. Magdalene pressed her unshaven vagina against his face. His high bridge of a nose pressed perfectly against her clit as he used his hands to part her butt flesh, licking her with a mixture of his own semen and her abundant fluids. His tongue swirled inside her, and he occasionally used his fingers to find her internal sweet spots.
Wave after wave of pleasure hit her, and before long, she reached her orgasm in his mouth. When she finally stood up, trembling her legs, Beanies’ glasses, hair, ears, and nose—and, of course, his slightly parted mouth—were covered in semen, feminine secretions, and pubic hairs.
She lay down beside him, one leg draped over his lower abdomen. She covered her chest and turned to him, asking softly, "Did you really never imagine we would end up like this?"
He swallowed what was in his mouth and shook his head. "I didn't. I used to think you were just a dim-witted assistant, but you're actually very kind. I mean it."
·
The biting wind remained as sharp as ever, but Dr. Beanies was bundled up heavily this time.
Trailing behind him were Magdalene and four cats. One was a green cat, sporting The Monocle and a pair of fake cat ears, with a Sacred Heart accessory hanging around its neck. Beside it was a brown cat, clutching a bunch of Daisies in its paws. Then there was a purple cat with an oversized head, a second head, wearing a Wizard Hat, was perched upon its neck. Finally, a grey cat performed martial arts strikes, completely unadorned without a single accessory.