Chapter 4: Purrfect Housewife THATWARD HO: Baka the Bakeneko chapter 4 by JollyJoe

 

Inhale. Exhale. “Qué calor.” JJ muttered to himself with a dirty hand pushing against his cheek. The make-up he put on yesterday ago was completely ruined by just about everything already, but the sweat didn't help. It ran down his head from his long sad mohawk, to the back of his neck, down the leather covered torso, and stopped at the tight of his black denim pants.

 

After she recovered from the heat, Finger saw the dead body in their hallway and wouldn't shut up about it. He just tuned her out. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Right by his ear. 

 

JJ stared at the cop car parked in his driveway, unsure of how to handle it. How much work would it be to hide it by normal means? How successful would it be? Eyeliner and oil smeared when he rubbed his lids and wiped his brow.

 

It would have to be witchcraft. It would be easier. It couldn't fail. 

 

“Finger. I get it. Shut up.” he told the homunculus. She didn't shut up. In fact, she was even more worked up.

 

Like a professional gunslinger, JJ drew his hand and grabbed Finger. Without looking at her or bringing her to his face, he spoke. “We should probably do something about this.”

 

Finger’s wings never stopped trying to flutter like a god damn hummingbird. She banged her hands a couple of times on JJ’s thumb. “It should never have happened! And don't even think about trying to make me do all the work this time, this is way beyond what I'm capable of. And, also, no!”

 

The brujo furrowed his brow. He hated being told no. He held Finger in front of him. “No, what? I was going to take care of this myself.” 

 

“That's not what I am talking about! I know that look. That is not taking care of things, JJ!” 

 

“You don't even know what I'm thinking of. I have. Like. Three different ideas.”

 

“First idea: magically graffiti a police car into a pizza van.”

 

“Yeah.” They were on the same page. Good. He loosened his grip and held out his left hand for her to use as a platform. Finger stood near the space of JJ’s missing middle finger.

 

“Not completely terrible. We could make it work. But it requires extra steps. It's still a police car, with equipment and baggage. And you'd have to maintain the illusion.”

 

“Mm. Maybe not then.”

 

Laziness. It annoyed her. “Second idea: we just blow up the vehicle or dump it in another plane.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“If you want to summon a demon to quietly disintegrate the vehicle, be my guest. You're so good at binding others to do your will.” Finger snipped sarcastically.

 

JJ growled. “Cuidado.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “And you should know material objects should never leave the material plane. The ripples they would leave across reality are something neither of us could fathom. And as for your last idea…” Finger trailed off. She was not amused.

 

JJ shrugged and glanced aside. “It would work.”

 

“Look at me. José Santana-Cortész, look at me. NECROMANCY. NEVER. WORKS.”

 

“I've done it plenty before. It wouldn't be permanent. A few days at most.”

 

“As a progressively rotting corpse without a mind of his own. When have you ever successfully raised the dead, as you intended, without any hiccups?”

 

“I'm not an amateur. Besides, it would save us having to clean up the corpse.”

 

“Corpses are easy. We bury, well, I bury, plenty of dead bodies, figuratively speaking, that you leave in your wake. We can work just fine with illusions. That is your bread and butter, that is the only thing you're good at, because that is just about the only thing you can't possibly fuck up."

 

JJ whined. “No tengo ganas. Imma grab the body.”

 

Before he could turn, Finger had already zipped inside.

 

****

 

Upon reentering, JJ did not expect to see what he saw. Inside, manor was well lit with sunlight and candles, cozy and warm, but far cooler than the blistering heat outside. There was no more snow. The smell of mildew and mold had been replaced with a fresh scent of rush grass and bamboo. Old furniture looked new, not a speck of dust to be seen. Wooden music played from unseen instruments. And all of it thanks to a lithe lady in a loose kimono.

 

Baka's latest appearance was unlike anything JJ had ever seen, save the occasional samurai film. Her feline features were almost completely absent. No tail, no fur, and normal ears hidden by her white hair, styled with a flipped braid and a low bun. She had none of the pudge or exaggerated curves. Everything about her appearance was sharp and subtle. JJ would not have recognized her as Baka at all, were it not for the silk white hair and angular emerald eyes.

 

She knelt on both knees in center of the front room, next to a low table set with a kettle, a pair of cups, and a pair of bowls. All were steaming. The woman looked up at JJ and smiled coyly. He raised an eyebrow.

 

“What's all this?” He asked.

 

She gestured toward the table. The way she moved was….elegant. It was not something JJ was used to. He didn't typically interact with….elegant folk. Though to be fair, he usually tried to keep socializing to a minimum.

 

“Sit.” She said, her voice soft and measured. Something about her voice compelled him to do so, and he did sit, but it wasn't a conscious action.

 

She spoke again. “Baka made food and drink for master.” 

 

JJ looked at the dishes before him. A bowl of rice. Chopsticks. He wasn't sure what was in the cup. 

 

“Sake.” Baka told him.

 

“Sake.” He repeated. He only had it once, and didn't care for it. Mostly the texture. Like snot or cum. “I don't like sake.”

 

“Try.” 

 

And he did. It wasn't bad. Wasn't the best, but nothing was really good while you were smoking a cigarette.

 

The texture was thick, like he was expecting, but it wasn't slimy. More like a full-bodied wine or mead. The taste wasn't his favorite. Too gentle. He preferred something closer to scotch or mezcal. Spicy boilmaker. Something tough.

 

He drained the square wooden cup set for him. Baka refilled it. JJ reached out to drain it again, but the cat stopped him.

 

“Master has not eaten today. Baka does not see master eat enough. He is short and scrawny. Master should eat to grow big and strong.”

 

“Eating won't make me get any taller.” JJ replied. He didn't feel like his height or weight were a problem. Sure, he could pass for a mini-estrella if he wore a mask and cape, and sure, he'd get his ass kicked in the ring since he didn't barely weigh a hundred pounds. But he weren't insecure about it. 

 

Baka patted his head. “No. Master will always be tiny. Little jefito.”

 

JJ growled. "Don't do that.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Don't talk down to me. And no Spanglish, gata. Real quick ways to get on m’bad side. Got it?”

 

The smirk on Baka's lips and the glint in her eyes remained unchanged.

 

JJ decided to let it slide. He wasn't okay with it, but she wasn't pushing her luck. Instead, the brujo’s hands fiddled with the chopsticks, unable to get them to work. He threw them down and used a dirty hand instead.

 

He wasn't a good cook, but the rice was nothing like his abuela’s. It was plain and sticky. No spice, no flavor. There were vegetables too, but he ate around them. 

 

Baka's kimono carefully slipped off one shoulder. “Is master satisfied?”

 

“Mm.” JJ mumbled with his mouth full. “S’aight.” It wasn't a compliment. It wasn't an insult either. 

 

Baka watched him eat. Her eyes unblinking. Her kimono slipped further, revealing more of her smooth, pale skin. She didn't touch her food. JJ eventually noticed.

 

“Why aren't you eating." He observed. "I know you're a ghost and don't need to, but I first found you in my kitchen and Finger says you ate some of our food. You like to eat. Besides, you fixed yourself a bowl right there.”

 

The brujo said all those things to deny any lie the cat might try. In response, she said, “Baka is full and already ate. The bowl is to be polite and encourage master to eat.”

 

He could buy that. “Where's Finger.” 

 

It was a bored accusation. Baka stiffened. Her coy face turning to a subtle displeasure masking behind the same smile. “Oh. In master’s room. She was in a hurry to do something.” 

 

To do something with the deputy's body. Before he could get to it. But the body was supposed to be in the hall, not his room. And JJ doubted Baka missed a corpse in her cleaning performance.

 

“Baka. Spit her up.”

 

If the woman had cat ears, they would've flattened. Baka fixed her kimono, slowly rose from her knees to her feet, and bowed. She left the front room for a short time, and came back dangling the pixie by its wings. 

 

Finger's arms were folded. Like always, she looked aggressively upset. 

 

JJ sipped his sake. “I'll take it Baka ate the corpse. Sure you got a good look.”

 

“And thank God for that.” Finger grumbled. She looked out a window. “The car is gone too.” 

 

The brujo looked as well. So it was.

 

Finger wasn't finished. “We still need to take care of the disease that caused those symptoms. The evil killer spirit that's haunting this house and that's bound to you like the electric tape is bound to your tattered jacket.”

 

JJ looked at one of his shoulders. Black tape was peeling off. He pressed it back down. It did nothing.

 

As Baka returned to her knees, she set Finger down gently on the table. Everything about the bakeneko's composure was still held with an uncharacteristic grace. She bowed again, and her kimono slipped back to where it was before, revealing the swell of her breast.

 

“Baka is good wife. Baka cleaned. Baka fed master. Baka made herself pretty like before she died. Master is satisfied?” 

 

“Eh. Equis.” replied her master. He wiped his fingers on his shirt.

 

“Master is satisfied. Baka is perfect housewife. Baka wants reward for being perfect.”

 

Her voice was still soft. Undemanding and humble, even if her words were not.

 

JJ stared at the barely exposed tit. The feeling low in his gut pulled. He lit a cigarette. “Finger, find something to reward her.” He stood up and scratched the dry sweat and crusty black make-up on his neck. Everything itches. Baka eyed him greedily. “I'm going to go relax. So don't bother me.” 

 

Seeing a chance to reframe her reward, Baka spoke. “Master is dirty, he smells like acrid smoke and death. Master works hard all day and needs relax. Baka will draw bath.”

 

The brujo took a very long and very hard inhale. After accidentally flicking the ash onto his jacket sleeve, he brushed it off. “Nah, Imma just go read. You go with Finger, she'll find something nice for you.”

 

Finger saw what was coming a mile away. And she thought it funny. To avoid his wrath later, she'd have to at least pretend to try. “JJ doesn't do bathes. Come on, Baka, there's some–”

 

“Bath.” Baka insisted, voice hinting its usual tone. “Master is stinky.” She started to purr.

 

JJ formed a finger gun. “Master is fine.” 

 

Her elegant form was starting to slip, as the kimono started to fall off of her rapidly growing body. Her breasts were starting to tear the cloth. Her arms. Her legs. Her belly. “Baka is good wife. Good wives wash bad, dirty husbands.”

 

One step back. Two. Silk strained against her. Soft rips. “We ain't married, and I ain't takin’ a fucking bath.” 

 

Her ears flicked back in existence. Height surged. What was once a lithe Japanese lady, was now the familiar feline female. Breasts, heavy and now unrestrained, bounced ever so slightly as she breathed. A tail sprouted and swayed from an ass half as wide as he was tall. Still only one tail.

 

Pulling the trigger, mist landed on the large woman's muffin top. No sell. Baka did not react. That little trick wasn't any good unless he could reach her head. She looked down at him, a fang hanging from her upper lip. 

 

All pretense was dropped. “Master dirty. Master will be cleaned.”

 

Hands raised, JJ started to sidestep. “Eh, eh, eh! Wait just a minute….I air out just fine….wait….”

 

He tried to run. Baka came down hard and fast, faster than he could possibly be. Before he could react, her teeth held him by the collar of his shirt and jacket. JJ was being carried to the bathroom like he was a fucking kitten. She continued to purr.

 

This would not stand. He kicked his legs like the officer earlier, the only thing he was able to do. “Put me down! Finger! Finger, help me, carajo!”

 

The homunculus didn't move from the table. She was doing her best not to bust out in laughter. “JJ, if there's nothing you can do, there's even less I can do. I warned you this would happen. I warned you and you didn't listen.” Finger felt very vindicated.

 

Carried to the bathroom like he weighed nothing, cursing and fighting all the while, JJ was set down on the white tile when they reached the bathroom. Baka set her thick thighs and heavy ass down with a thump that shook the house. Her lower half surrounded the brujo like a short fence. 

 

“Clothes off.” she said sweetly, already hooking a claw under his jacket.

 

“No! Gata malvada! Naughty! Bad! Stop it!” he pushed at her paw with both hands. It wouldn't budge. His protests turned into the squeak of a mouse when the shirt and jacket were peeled off with a single tug. Then, the rest of his clothes. Dirty laundry, all in a pile. 

 

Naked, save the layers of grime and occasional tattoo. JJ hugged his knees and looked up at Baka with evil intent. Her large supple body made his dick throb. She looked down at him and continued to purr.

“Aw. Little jefito so cute when he pouts.”

 

“I'm not pouting.” He grumbled, trying to plot his way out. Then, an idea came to him. 

 

But it was too late. Her tongue, the length of his arm and rough like sandpaper, slid up his back. It scraped off the salt from the dried swear. Dried beer. Then a layer of grease. And another. Then a layer of dead skin. And another. 

 

“Ow! No! Quit it!” 

 

But his erection told her to continue. Her tongue molded around him, scraping every corner and crevice, pulling at his hair and dragging it up in the air. He tried to fight, but a paw pinned him down. Repositioning him like an action figure, she continued. Purring all the while.

 

“I'll make a fucking rug out of your–Ay!” her tongue slid over his face. Again. And again. And again.

 

Then his front. Nipples and navel. Then….

“Ay, ay, ay!” JJ screeched. But Baka kept at it. Every corner. Every crevice. Deliberately. He arched his back in spite of his whimpers. Twitching. Leaking.

 

“Master likes it. Baka good wife.” 

 

“Master does not like it and we are not–” his voice cracked at another pass. He very much did. He fell limp. Dead like the deputy, but it was a little death. Rigor mortis kicked in. The seizure-like spasms of a pent up orgasm. 

 

She did not stop until he was completely clean. Then, Baka cradled the brujo in her breasts like a baby. Purring.

 

Massive. Warm. Like a fleshy….JJ fell asleep.

 

****

 

He woke up later that evening. In his chair. In his clothes. Clean. Everything was clean. Like new. No frays in his pants. Loafers and leather were straight. Gleaming. A small white cat, sleeping on his lap.

 

Finger opened her mouth to speak, but JJ cut her off. “Not one word. This never happened.”

 

A statue of wax burned in a corner of the room. It was shaped like the deputy. His face an expression of unending terror.