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The Coalition Of Communist Catgirls"remind me again why we're doing this?"
Shyla dropped the crowbar with a noisy clank on the concrete floor, the sound echoing through the empty, cathedral like space.
"For the thousandth time, what organisation do we belong to?"
"the Coalition of Communist Catgirls." Shyla replied.
"And what is our biggest enemy?"
"The capitalist machine."
"And what's the biggest racket in town, the biggest example of the soul crushing, proletariat abusing corporate fat cats?"
"Mama-Trixies All Butter Cakes, they're the biggest business in ten, but we aren't exactly skinny cats-"
Her companion turned to her and scowled. Amelia had chosen theirs outfits for this evening, but unfortunately had picked them both in the same sizes: too small.
Black catsuits were meant to be figure hugging, but not to this degree. Amelia's breasts bulged ridiculously in a riot of cleavage that protruded from the partly undone zipper, the curve of her ample, plump body plainly visible thanks to the material so tight it appear
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