Cat Scratch Stories Novels & Stories

“The message. The search history. Tell me right now—did you kill Vienna’s cat on purpose?” Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed as she scrambled for composure. “Oh, uh, well... I mean—look, it’s not like that!” Warren's jaw clenched. “Not like what?” “I just…” She fidgeted. “My allergies were awful, okay? I was sneezing constantly. I couldn’t breathe, my eyes were itchy all the time. And the cat scratched me once! Look—” She held up her wrist, showing a faint red line.

The fuck. Janice’s face instantly lit up. “Oh! Look!” She crouched down, making soft noises. What was happening right now? The cat hesitated, staring back at her like it was trying to figure out something, then trotted over confidently. No. No. And fucking no. I took several steps back. “Careful, darling! Those things are feral… they carry diseases and they scratch.” She looked up at me, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Calder… are you scared of a little cat?”

Because of lack of affection and love when she was young, she grew up distrustful of other animals and the people who came to visit her. The kitten did not like the humans in particular. Whenever they saw her, they attempted to grab her and she didn't know why. They rarely succeeded. She hissed at them, so some gave up early and left her alone. Those who persisted and grabbed her anyway ended up with hands, scratched to the blood.

"Your petty made up stories won't rid me off this glorious view from up here." "Made-up stories?" She giggled. "Just like how I made up the story of the giant tarantula in the stream which bit your dearest bum after you failed to heed to my warnings." Chris's face changed and a look of fear overcame him. "Remember how you couldn't walk for two weeks and how big your swollen bum became." She said adding to Chris's fright. "That's enough!" He said as he began climbing down the tree. "You're one big jerk, you know that?"

I wanted to bite those breasts, even over her tank top. “My kitten likes to be abused.” I whispered and heard her let out a low moan, almost a meow, and carefully inserted a third finger and Scarlett's breathing quickened. I could feel my fingers getting wetter as the third finger went in more easily and I started moving my hand in and out with force. Scarlett wiggled and squirmed until she held onto my shirt and closed her legs a little tighter, trapping my hand. “How wet you got with just a few thrusts.” The wet sound of my fingers slapping against her sex echoed around the room, even with the television on. “You are a very naughty kitten.”

I shuffled over, careful to keep my head low. Back in Malden, my friend Timmy MacDougal had told me a story about this kid that was crawling under the farmer’s porch of a house during a game of hide-and-seek and put his hand right into the guts of a dead cat. It grossed him out to the point he forgot where he was, and stood up to run. An exposed nail dug into his head and he needed a bunch of stitches and a tetanus shot. The very thought always made my legs go rubbery and I was obsessively cautious anytime I was under a porch or in a basement or attic. There were plenty of roofing nails poking through the wood above me.

“She won’t get down, she hates walking. Excuse me, sir, may my cat ride your cow?” Geal just shrugged. The witch's cat walked back and forth, up and down my back as I walked. I just kept plodding along, trying not to flinch as it kneaded my backside with its claws. I pretended to be just another cow, then he bit my ear. Mooing, I shook my head hard. I refused to shift. I couldn’t risk it as the cat kept walking back and forth up my spine. When it started chewing on one of my horns, Scarlett reached out and swatted the cat off my neck. She patted my shoulder.

Ace growled. “She is planning something.” In order to figure out her plan, I played along and climbed onto the bed after taking off my coat. “Great. I would love to hear a story.” My little alphas immediately scooted closer. Kate started reading again, and the story was about a family of cats and their bedtime routines. Yet somehow, Orion and Knox listened to every ridiculous detail with full attention. Soon, they started yawning, blinking their eyes sleepily. I gently caressed Orion’s hair.

She spent less and less time with the cat. "The cat wanted her attention, so it started scratching the people around her who were taking her attention away. In the end, it even accidentally injured her with its claws. "After that, it was soon neglected. Later on, the cat became depressed and fell ill." Marina was very good at telling stories. Even such a simple tale became vivid and absorbing—so much so that Sharon found herself listening intently. When the story suddenly stopped, she instinctively asked, "And after it got sick? Did she abandon the cat?"

Chapter: 3. ***** A TRIP INTO THE PAST. PT:1. ****** A helpless kitten was caught in a hunter's trap. He sat there whimpering and calling for help but after having sat there for nearly two hours he began to accept that no help was coming. His mother had told him not to go wandering around alone, they'd only just moved here and they weren't familiar with the grounds yet. The sixteen-year-old sat there crying and watching his leg bleed out. He has lost way too much blood already at this point he may even be losing a leg.