(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)




How many things by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection!

- William Shakespeare

Catherine awakened in contentment. It was her natural state after a night of lovemaking. Marriage and three children had done nothing to diminish it. In fact, she decided languorously, she and Vincent fit like a foot in an old slipper Ė molded to each other, comfortable and just a little soft.

She looked over at her lover, laying on his back, the sheet draped decorously over his hips. It didnít hide the impressive bulge there, but he was quiescent.

Vincent felt Catherine awaken and waited. He was testing himself, seeing if he could do something which had been in the back of his mind for some time.

Catherine reached along their bond, knowing that Vincent was awake, but sensing something out of the ordinary. He seemed a bit tense, as if he was trying to hide something from her. She wondered what that was, and when she realized it, felt herself stiffen in shock. He wasnít purring!

She had become so used to feeling the vibration of his purr when she awoke Ė in the bed, against her hand, along her body, anywhere - and knowing that his reaction was in response to the love she felt for him. But it wasnít there this morning. All was quiet. It was as he had suddenly stopped breathing, although she knew he hadnít. She didnít like the absence at all. Was he sick? No, she would have felt that. He must be deliberately preventing himself from purring! Why? Well, she would not allow it!

Catherine reached across to him and ran her hand along his ribs, then touched his nipple. She saw the bulge quiver - but still no purr. She reached her hand up to his face then and pulled herself over to plant a sideways kiss on his lips. She felt his joy at the touch, but nothing more. He kept his eyes closed.

Well, enough of that! She wanted an answer. Catherine moved to drape herself on top of Vincentís body, pulling the sheet over them both. Then she rested her head on his shoulder and spoke quietly.

"Whatís the matter, Vincent?"

There was a grunt and a sigh. Catherine moved to look Vincent in the face and kissed his lips. Then she moved to his cleft, running her tongue along it, up to the warm, smooth tip of his nose and then began a slow journey with her lips up its soft furry length. She had not travelled very far when Vincent opened his eyes, regarding her with that azure passion she loved. The bulge under her thighs was now pulsing insistently, but there wasnít a hint of that wonderful vibration she loved.

"Tell me," she demanded, now really concerned. "Why arenít you purring, my love?"

Vincent put his arms around her and sighed again. How to explain? Well, heíd better start at the beginning.

"Catherine, I was remembering my childhood. You see, when I was very young, Father thought I had asthma, because of my odd breathing pattern. He banned all feather-stuffed bedding from the chamber I shared with Devin, and wouldnít let me read in his library, because of the dust. My raspy breathing only happened occasionally, usually when I was alone and relaxed. I guess Father either didnít identify the sound, or didnít want to. He always tried to ensure my differences did not keep me separate from other children.

"So, I learned to suppress that vibration in my chest. I didnít know what it was, but I didnít want Father fussing over me. It became automatic, at least during the day. I simply thought about something else, distracted myself and it stopped. Father was pleased and reasoned that his tactics had worked.

"At night, I was less successful - at first. Devin used to kid me about it and complained that it kept him awake. He called me a dynamo Ė not quite accurately. I think he knew what I was doing, but he never told Father or me. That was his way. He liked to have something to use as ammunition for his pranks on me. As a result, I got very good at suppressing it at night as well. I simply read something boring before I went to sleep and that did it. Devin moved on to other jokes Ė and then he left us."

"So Vincent, youíre saying that you never realized that you were purring?"

"No. I was very naive in those days. I led a sheltered life, you know, and I believed everything Father told me. We never had pets Below. I knew about cats, of course, but how would I know what a purr was? Even if I had, I would not have associated it with myself. I was sometimes teased about my appearance, but it wasnít malicious. We used to call Pascal ĎPipí because he was so small. I kept my hair long because I thought if I had to look feline, I should be lion-like. Besides, I could hide inside my hair. Very useful sometimes,"

"When did you discover you were purring?"

"I didnít, Catherine. I never thought about it at all. Suppressing it had become second nature to me. I didnít purr again until we made love for the first time. It happened without my thinking about it. I was so happy, so contented, so replete Ė there had been nothing to match that feeling in my life up to that point. The vibration was not as I remembered it, anyway. Itís much stronger now and louder Ė and more even. But after we became lovers I did get curious.

"I did some research and discovered that scientists still donít know why the members of the feline species purr Ė or how they do it. The bigger cats only purr on the exhale, but they all do it. Other animals can purr too, under special circumstances Ė hamsters, raccoons Ė even elephants."

"So, why arenít you purring now, Vincent? I donít think Iím going to like the answer," Catherine whispered, stroking his face.

"I was just seeing whether I could still suppress it. I knew you would notice and I wanted to see if I could resist you when you made the obvious overtures."

"Oh, obvious, am I?" Catherine was a little miffed now.

"Catherine, after so many years, I think we know each other better than any other couple on the planet. We fit together like yin and yang."

"And to think I was comparing us to an old slipper. I like your allusion better. But I want that purr back, Vincent Ė or I donít know what Iíll do to you. Why did you think this experiment necessary, anyway?"

Vincent looked at her, his eyes mischievous, but his bond sent her something akin to fear.

"Catherine, I have another characteristic of the feline species Ė Iím curious. But Iím not suppressing my purr anymore, at least not consciously. I seem to have been too successful. Itís gone."

Catherine looked at him in disbelief. Her voice was rough.

"No Vincent, it is not. I wonít have it! Your purr is the most wonderful thing about you Ė well after these," she twisted a little to get her hand under those furry globes between his legs. "And this," she slid her hand upwards along her favourite appendage.

Vincent growled and cupped Catherineís bottom, felt her passion soar with his. He flung her off his chest onto the bed and felt her heat rise. Then, his hands cupping and massaging her breasts, he moved down to kiss and caress her special place, taking his time and enjoying the desire he felt burning in her, matching his own.

Finally, as she gasped and spasmed, Vincent slid his manhood into her moist and warm passage and sighed with delight at the sensation. He gathered Catherine to him and lay down sideways, wrapping his legs around her and stroking her back and neck. She raised her head and they indulged in a deep kiss that left them both gasping for air.

A wave of passion washed over them both, magnified by their bond, and they let themselves ride it, surfing breakers until they were cast together into that place that was theirs alone.

Catherine waited Ė and it came. Vincentís purr vibrated along her length like a massage Ė far stronger than before. She felt it to her bones and behind her eyes. His manhood, still within her, seemed to be transmitting an electrical charge that demanded more. She looked at him and saw his canines showing. He was gasping and she felt something akin to pain along their bond.

Vincent discovered he was not finished yet. Their orgasm seemed more of a pre-amble. His organ was still swollen inside her and it felt ready to explode. It actually hurt! And his purr ran like fire around his groin.

Catherine sensed that Vincent was not finished yet and felt her own desire rise again. She pushed on Vincentís shoulders to signal him to lay on his back and then followed him over. He felt enormous inside her, hot almost. She drew herself up and down his column, felt the tingling purr bring her quickly close to climax and realized Vincent was very nearly there too. She closed her eyes, put her arms around his neck and arched her back in pleasure. Vincent put his hands on her buttocks again and raised his hips. His organ was huge and throbbing inside her.

She let go, let Vincentís fire flare over her and transform them both into an inferno. They sagged at last, but their lips met to kiss and Vincentís arms held Catherine in a tight cuddle.

Vincent felt uncomfortable, so lifted his left hip to slid Catherine into the crook of his arm. He let himself slide out of her with unaccustomed relief and caught his breath. The relative cool of the room felt wonderful on his organ. He kept his eyes closed, afraid to look at it.

When she could find enough breath to talk, Catherine whispered in of his ear.

"I think your experiment had an interesting result, Vincent. But Ö

"But?" Vincent rasped, sure he knew what was coming.

"Donít you ever deny your purr its natural outlet again! Next time it might not return. Promise me."

Vincent was disinclined to deny Catherine anything, anytime, but he didnít hesitate. The elevated purr after their first lovemaking had verged on the painful. His penis had felt as if it was being electrocuted. Unable to resist, he moved his head a fraction to take a look. It was bright red. He closed his eyes again, felt his face flush. His voice was a tense rasp.

"Catherine, I will never do that again, I promise. My Ö organ Ö feels Ö peculiar."

Catherine felt his embarrassment and was immediately concerned. She moved to take a look between his legs. His penis did look inflamed. His purr had diminished to a slight vibration.

"Does it hurt," she asked him.

"It stings a little," he confessed, unwilling to admit more than that. In truth, it now felt as if it has been barbecued.

"Well, I have just the cure for that." Catherine rose and went to the bathroom.

Vincent could hear her rummaging around and she emerged with a small plastic bottle and a handful of cotton balls. She straddled his legs and took a good look, gently supporting his penis from underneath. He closed his eyes. Her hand was cold. He felt something chilly touch his penis and looked down to see her wielding a cotton ball and running a trail of coolness up it. He sighed. It felt wonderful.

"What is that, Catherine?" he asked after a few moments, feeling better already.

"Witch Hazel, Vincent. The best thing for ... um Ö swellings."

He felt her lift his organ and apply the cool cotton ball under it. Then she moved around it in circles, as if painting it. The relief was incredible. He sighed again and his purr grew to its usual comfortable level. He felt Catherineís happiness that it was back.

He looked down finally when she stopped her ministrations, and saw that his penis looked almost normal again. He pulled her down to him. She put the bottle and the cotton balls on the table as she moved to lay on top of him. He lifted her chin and looked in her eyes.

"Thank you, Catherine. You may do that any time you wish."

"Vincent, I donít think youíll need that treatment again. Not if you keep your promise. Thereís nothing more precious than your purr Ė your particular purr, that is. Itís purr-fection personified."

Vincent groaned at all the puns and alliteration, put his arms about her and stroked her back. Truly, he was a lucky man. His manhood now felt as it should. His purr mirrored his contentment and that of Catherineís. All was right with their world.

Catherine lay along Vincentís chest, experiencing a sense of dťjŗ vu. Hadnít she been here before, just recently? This time it felt right. Vincentís purr was vibrating along her length and his wonderfully soft and firm hirsute body was where she loved it best Ė against her. She let herself match her breathing to his purr, found it fit perfectly and drifted into a nap.

Vincent realized Catherine was breathing in time with his purr and wondered anew. Had she done that before? So his purr had another use, besides arousing them and broadcasting his contentment. He smiled as he let himself drift into a nap. Now it all made purr-fect sense!