Chapter 13: Cat on a Hot Tin Grid

Answers. Here I might find some, Steed had told me as he gave me the key and explained me the way to his storage room. Yes, a few answers would be very welcome. Questions I had enough by now.

After the party noise the hallway seemed strangely quiet. My cat paws did not disturb the silence at all. What a clever designed costume, I thought once again. My feet did hurt a little but I was able to walk quite elegantly by now -- result of a long evening's training. I looked over the neighborhood which finally came to rest. Dawn was not very far. First of November -- my birthday 364 days away again. This definitely was the strangest birthday party I ever had experienced.

The room was the very last one in the uppermost floor. I turned the key in the door and it slid silently open. The room was empty but for a foot-high pedestal in the middle. All walls covered with mirrors made it look as if it had no limits. I stepped in and stumbled. Only now I noticed the steady grid which covered the whole floor three inches above the ground. I carefully stepped on it. It was safe to stand on as the filaments were less than an inch apart. I was standing on a fine net of metal wires which only slightly gave way to my weight.

The door slid shut behind be. I was standing in the dark, but only for a moment. The grid on the floor started to glow in a very low but warm orange color. I turned around and saw that the inside of the door was covered with mirror too. I was alone and still accompanied by an endless number of catwomen dressed exactly like me. I moved forward and reached the pedestal. There was a narrow bench fixed to the middle of it, another foot high, two feet long and six inches wide, with some items carefully arranged on it. One was a finely done cartoon on a catwoman dressed exactly like me crouching on her knees and elbows. At closer look it became obvious that she could not do otherwise as her ankles were attached to her thighs and her wrists to her shoulders by four conic sheaths, one for each limb.

The sheaths depicted on the cartoon lay next to it on the bench. Careful not to blow up my butt plug again I sat on the bench, pulled one leg up and slid one sheath over my bent up leg. It fit like a glove which somehow did not surprise me. To pull the tightly stretching rubber form off again took all my strength. The two smaller sheaths obviously were made for my arms, and they had the same locking mechanism as the chrome and steel corset I wore to my last working day. Should I? Somehow I knew that it would be the logic way to proceed. To perfect my costume. Or was it a costume? It actually felt nearly like a part of myself by now.

I pulled my left foot close to my thigh again and sheathed it again, then knelt and entrapped my right leg in the same way. There was a sort of metal plate covering my knee. Probably a protection if one would have to walk on these, which of course was nearly impossible. I thought. After a moment of hesitation I pulled the left arm sheath over my left elbow. There was a metal plate in there too. The familiar ratcheting of the closing mechanism, and my left palm was lying on my left shoulder, the wrist attached tightly to my upper arm. With a flap that I could conceal hand and shoulder.

The free limb that was left was my right arm. The sheath was lying with its opening facing upwards, invitingly. Like a mouth ready to welcome me if I decided to give up my freedom. With a deep sigh I bent my right arm too, leaned forward and pushed it all the way in. The ratcheting sounded somehow darker than with the left arm. I fell forward and now was indeed standing on my elbows and knees. The dozens of catwomen on all walls were doing exactly like me. I saw how well the sheaths matched with the costume. In the dim orange light no rim was visible.

The feeling was overwhelming. I was aroused and horny but that was not all, not even the most important. I felt happy. Truly happy. All nervousness, all worries about the lost job, the costs of the house seemed to have fallen off me like discarded egg shells. I felt as if I had caught a glimpse of the bottom of my own soul.

Vanity and pride were other feelings normally strange to me that I suddenly discovered in myself. I do not think of myself as a true beauty. Always found my body too skinny, busts too flat, skin too pale, hair too reddish. Now however, I felt the urge to contemplate my reflection more closely. I approached the edge of the pedestal, turned round, and with knees first managed to get down to the grid rather awkwardly. "The elegance of your movement is not yet catlike, Maria", I smiled to myself, as I let all fours down and approached the nearest mirror. The threads of the grid gloomed in a stronger, lighter color where I touched them with my knees and elbows and pressed my weight down. I touched my reflection with my shoulder and meowed to myself, my breath fogging the chilly glass momentarily.