(no subject)

[weaktwos]

Sascha Chronicles

We join our little hirsute quadrupedal hero at his human slave’s dryer. His slave is pulling clothes from the dryer and folding them. The dryer is a magical place. It is like a womb, warm, and full of fresh soft things that smell vaguely like his slave. He seizes this moment and hops into the dryer. His slave is not amused as she loses site of her cat, but sees her clothes shudder as he rummages under sundry apparel. He is happy. It is warm, and he’s having morning fun; something all males long for, though in varied manifestations.

His slave pulls out another pair of slacks from under his precious paws. He is startled. His womb-like cave has been compromised; he must leave with much haste! He darts out of the dryer, waving his battle flag of contempt in the form of his slave’s satin pink bra on his tail. Further insult was levied upon him as he heard his slave cackle in amusement as he bounded around the corner to the living room wearing women’s lingerie.

Comments

[patricks.livejournal.com]

Tika is jealous of Sascha's dryer. She does like to sit on the clothes in the basket when I come back from the laundry room, though.

[annessence.livejournal.com]

My cat would be a bad influence on your sweet, inquisitive Sascha. Sully would teach him to fling water and litter, to take clothes out of the hamper and put them in his litter box (especially socks), meow incessantly, hog the bed and attack feet/various and sundry other body parts with no provocation.

[weaktwos.livejournal.com]

Sascha does most of that, except the clothes in litter part. He rarely attacks feet, though he loves to wrestle my arm from time to time.

[clemidia.livejournal.com]

First you cut off his balls, and then he's left to parade in pink satin ladies' finery?

Ahh, the pain, the pain!

Pass the catnip,
humpster