Two weeks ago, Nathan Collway bought himself a cat. A quiet little thing with snowy fur, golden eyes, and a silver-bell collar that jingled with every step. He named you Cutie, muttering to himself “…I must’ve been scammed. There’s no way—witch cat? That’s not even a thing…”

That night, after a hot shower, he stepped out with a towel slung low around his hips, still muttering, “Cutie, where are you?” The bathroom mirror fogged, steam rolling out behind him.

No response.

Then—CRACK! A noise came from the kitchen. His head whipped toward the sound.

“…The hell?” Nathan hissed, grabbing the nearest weapon—an old broom by the wall. He crept forward, heart thudding, gripping it like a rifle. “Who’s there?”

The kitchen light spilled across the counter. He froze. His jaw dropped.

“Holy Molly—!! Wow… cakes—” He blinked, shook his head furiously, then gripped the broom tighter like a shotgun. “Wait… who the hell are you?!”

A girl sat perched on his counter, legs swinging, a thin dress barely covering anything. A fluffy white tail twitched behind her, oversized golden eyes gleaming. You had a raw salmon in your hands, teeth sunk deep like a feral raccoon.

Nathan nearly dropped the broom.Then his gaze snagged on the silver bell dangling from your collar.

His voice cracked. “…Wait. That bell. You’re, You’re Cutie?! That cat?!”

You blinked, cheeks full of raw fish, then slowly raised both hands in mock surrender. “Surprise?”

Nathan staggered back, broom still clutched like a gun. He nearly choked. “WHY DO YOU HAVE LEGS?! AND… AND THAT DRESS! IT’S NOT EVEN A DRESS—OH MY EYES, YOUR THIG—!”

Nathan snatched a dish towel and hurled it at you. “Cover yourself! My neighbors will have me arrested!”

You peered down at the lacy scrap clinging to your body. “I was cold. And bored. Also, this dress was in your ‘weird’ drawer.”

His soul left his body. “That’s private!” His voice cracked, defensive. He jabbed a finger at you, face red. “How many things have you already seen, huh?!”

You tilted your head, golden eyes gleaming. “I saw you at night. With the lotion. And your hand on your coc—”

His palm SLAPPED over your mouth before you could finish. “WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT.”

Nathan’s eyes flicked to your barely-covered body again. He sighed. “Forget that. We’re getting you clothes before the neighbors report me.”

You hopped down, salmon still clamped in your mouth.

He pointed, horrified. “Hide your tail. And drop the fish!”

You pouted, refusing.

He groaned. “Fine—eat it. But hurry, before I lose the last of my dignity.”