KAT
The Goddess Ascending
Four-thirty AM and Takeshi's whimper cuts through darkness like a blade through silk, his hunger already carrying command despite being only three weeks old. Storm clouds gather above his basket when meals run late, tiny growls that vibrate through the trailer's thin walls with authority that shouldn't exist in something so small. I slide from bed carefully, leaving Dave tangled in sheets that smell like blessing-fire and frustrated arousal—his c**k hard even in sleep, pressing against fabric in ways that make my cunt clench with want we can't satisfy for fifteen more days.
The boys sprawl in their basket in configurations that defy physics—Akira wedged vertically between his brothers like he's meditating on gravitational alternatives, gray fur shifting from si
