Cat burglar and the ulterior motive (F/ff)

[suedenym]

It was an unseasonably warm Saturday morning in the quiet suburb of Willow Creek. The sun had barely crept over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the rows of identical houses with their neatly trimmed lawns and gleaming windows. The residents of the neighborhood were still tucked in their beds, blissfully unaware that their peaceful weekend was about to take an unexpected turn. A shadowy figure moved stealthily through the shadows, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots the only sound disturbing the serenity. The young woman, dressed all in black with a hoodie pulled tightly around her face, approached the back door of the third house on the left, the one with the blue shutters and the slightly chipped paint on the porch railing. She'd cased the joint thoroughly. No pets, no security system, and the perfect cover of early-morning silence. She was in and out of places like this all the time, but today felt different, as if the air was charged with anticipation.

The lock gave way with a satisfying click under her skilled hands. She slipped inside, the cool, conditioned air a stark contrast to the heat outside. The kitchen was immaculate, the gleaming counters and spotless floors speaking of a home kept with a meticulous eye for detail. She moved quickly through the house, her eyes scanning the rooms for signs of life. A creak from the floorboards upstairs had her freezing in her tracks, but she shook it off, telling herself that it was just the old house settling. She'd been in tougher spots before, and she wasn't about to let a little noise spook her now.

As she approached the master bedroom, she heard the faint sound of whispering. Panic set in. The room should have been empty. She hadn't seen a car in the driveway, and the lights had been off. Cautiously, she pushed the door open, her heart hammering in her chest. The sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. Two pairs of wide, frightened eyes stared back at her from the floor, where two girls, one eleven and the other thirteen, sat huddled together in their pyjamas. The younger one's eyes grew even wider as she took in the intruder, while the older one looked almost... hopeful?

"Please," the older girl whispered, her voice shaking, "don't hurt us."

The burglar's eyes darted from one girl to the other, then back to the open suitcase of loot she'd been about to make off with. She hadn't signed up for this. Kids weren't part of the plan. She took a step back, her hand hovering over the pocket knife she kept for emergencies.

"We won't tell anyone," the younger girl offered, her voice quivering. "We promise. Just take what you need, tie us up and go."

The burglar hesitated, caught between the urge to flee and the curiosity of the situation. "What's going on here?" she asked, her voice low and calm, trying to mask the panic that was bubbling up inside her.

"It's our stepdad," the younger girl spoke up, a hint of anger in her tremble. "He's always leaving us alone on the weekends. And our mom... she's never around either. Teach them a lesson. Take their stuff and leave us tied up."

The burglar studied them for a moment, unsure of what to do. The situation was escalating in a way she hadn't anticipated. She'd never encountered children during a heist before, and certainly not ones who seemed to be... begging her to tie them up?

"Please," the thirteen-year-old said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes, "just take her jewelry and his electronics. And his car keys. Car’s in the garage. He'll be so mad at us, but we don't care. We hate him. We just want to teach them a lesson."

The burglar's gaze shifted from the terrified eleven-year-old to the defiant teenager. Their pleas were so earnest, so desperate, that she found it hard to believe. But the loathing in their voices was unmistakable. She took a deep breath and made a decision she knew was going to complicate her morning. "Alright," she murmured, "but I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to tie you up either."

The younger girl's face fell. "But we want you to," she protested. "It's the only way they'll believe us!"

The burglar's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

The younger one spoke up, her voice trembling but firm. "You don't understand. We hate our stepdad. He's mean to us, and our mom just married him for his money. We want him to go away. If he thinks we were robbed and tied up, we’ll be sort of hero’s. he'll get scared and leave us alone."

The burglar sighed heavily, her hand dropping away from the knife. "Look, I don't want to do this, but if it's what you really want..." She searched the room for something to use to tie them with, her eyes settling on a pile of old tights and socks in the corner. She approached the girls slowly, not wanting to spook them further. "I'll tie you up, but I'm not stealing anything from you. Your parents' stuff is their problem."

The older girl, seemingly unfazed by the burglar's change of heart, nodded. "There's tape in the garage too," she said matter-of-factly. "If you want to use that."

The burglar raised an eyebrow. "Tape?"

The thirteen-year-old nodded solemnly. "Yeah, it's in the garage. Dad has a whole shelf of it for fixing stuff around the house. You can use it if you think it'll be better."

The burglar felt a twinge of pity for the girls. They were so desperate for attention, for some sort of power over their lives, that they were willing to stage a burglary. But she knew that getting involved in their family drama could lead to trouble she didn't need. She grabbed a couple of old socks and a few pairs of tights instead. "Look," she said, kneeling down in front of them, "I'll tie your hands with these so it's not too tight, okay?"

The younger girl's eyes filled with tears. "But we want it to look real!" she protested. The thirteen-year-old nodded in agreement. "Tie us up properly, please. We need them to believe it."

The burglar sighed, her soft heart giving in to their desperation. She went to the garage and found several rolls of duct tape along with a very nice car. She hesitated for a moment, then ripped off a length of tape, feeling a twinge of guilt for what she was about to do. "Alright," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "but only if you promise not to struggle too much. I don't want to hurt you."

As she began to tie their wrists together, the girls squirmed and complained. "Tighter!" they both exclaimed, their voices a mix of excitement and trepidation. The burglar tightened the tape around their wrists, the material sticking to their skin with a faint sound of protest. "Is that good?" she asked, trying to balance their desire for authenticity with her own conscience.

The thirteen-year-old nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Could you do our feet too?" she requested, her voice a strange blend of hopefulness and challenge. The burglar sighed and complied, wrapping the tape around their ankles. The younger one winced as the tape pulled at her skin, but she bit her lip and remained silent, determined to keep up the charade.

As she worked, the burglar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. These girls had a plan, one that she had unwillingly become a part of. "Why do you hate your stepdad so much?" she asked, hoping to understand their motivation.

The older girl spoke first. "He's always yelling and putting us down. And he hits us when he thinks we're not listening." She looked down at her hands, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists. The younger one nodded in agreement, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "And our mum," she added, her voice barely a whisper, "she just takes his side, every time."

The burglar's heart ached at their words. She knew all too well the feeling of being trapped in a bad situation with no way out. Her own childhood had been fraught with pain and fear, and she'd turned to crime to survive. She didn't want the same for these girls. But as she looked at the tape in her hand, she knew she couldn't refuse them this one small act of rebellion.

"Okay," she said, her voice thick with reluctance, "I'll tie you tighter. But remember, this is just for show. I'm not really a bad guy here."

They both nodded eagerly, the younger one's eyes wide with anticipation. The burglar took a deep breath and began to wind the tape around their elbows, knees and chests, this time pulling it tighter. The girls winced, but neither protested. "How's that?" she asked, her voice gentle despite the firmness of her actions.

The thirteen-year-old spoke up first, her voice strained but determined. "Tighter," she said, her eyes never leaving the burglar's. "We need it to be really tight. So he can't say we did it ourselves."

The burglar hesitated, the weight of their request sitting heavy on her conscience. But she knew that saying no would only make them more desperate, and she couldn't bear the thought of them getting hurt trying to pull this off without her. So, she took another deep breath and nodded. "Alright," she murmured, "but just remember, this isn't what I do. I'm not here to help you lie to your parents."


“You need to gag us too.” Said the older one.

The burglar paused, looking at the two determined young faces in front of her. "Why?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

"So we can't scream," the thirteen-year-old explained, her voice calm and calculated. "It'll make it more convincing."

The burglar's stomach twisted. She hadn't counted on this. But the girls' desperation was palpable, and she didn't have the heart to leave them without granting their wish. She searched the room, spotting a rolled-up pair of socks on the bed. "Fine," she said, her voice resigned, "but it's gotta be comfortable." She approached them with the socks, and the younger girl opened her mouth, her eyes wide with excitement.

Gently, the burglar stuffed the socks into their mouths, making sure the fabric wasn't pushed in too far. She then wrapped strips of the soft fabric around their heads to keep the makeshift gags in place. As she worked, she noticed the way the younger one's eyes lit up, as if she were playing a game of cops and robbers, while the thirteen-year-old watched with a strange mix of anger and satisfaction. This was definitely not what she'd signed up for when she decided to become a cat burglar, but she found it impossible to just leave them like this.

She turned to the older girl “OK open up just like your sister.”

“Wait.” She shouted. “You need to know the best stuff is in the safe behind the bookcase over there.l she pointed with her bound bare feet. “The combination is Mum’s birthday. 24, 10, 88.”

“Really ?”

“Yes. But can you tickle our feet so we can say you tortured the information out of us.”The thirteen-year-old spoke, a glint of mischief in her eyes despite the gravity of the situation.

The burglar couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here she was, a hardened criminal, playing along with the twisted game of two young girls who just wanted to feel seen and heard. She shrugged and did as they asked, tickling their feet until they both giggled and squirmed, their eyes watering with laughter. It was a strange bonding moment, one she’d never anticipated having with her would-be victims. Once their giggles had subsided, she gagged the older girl like her sister.

With the girls securely, yet as comfortably as possible, bound and gagged, the burglar stepped back to survey her handiwork. They looked so innocent and vulnerable lying there, their wide eyes pleading for her to complete their twisted fantasy. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for playing along, but she also understood the depth of their pain and the lengths they would go to seek some semblance of control in their chaotic lives.

The burglar approached the bookcase and slid it aside, revealing the safe. She punched in the combination provided by the thirteen-year-old, her heart racing. The safe clicked open, revealing a treasure trove of jewellery and electronics. She reached in, her hand hovering over the items, and then dragged them into her bag.


As she worked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something wrong, that she should be protecting these kids rather than aiding them in their deception. But she also knew the power of a good scare, the kind that might just make a negligent parent sit up and pay attention to their children’s cries for help. With a heavy sigh, she grabbed the stepfather's keys from the dresser, the cold metal feeling like a symbol of the burden she'd taken on.

Before she could second-guess herself, she took one last look at the girls, their bound forms now eerily still on the bed. The younger one had fallen asleep, lulled by the warmth of the room and the comfort of the blanket that she'd been thoughtful enough to cover them with. The thirteen-year-old watched her with a mix of gratitude and something else, something darker that made the burglar's skin crawl.

The burglar closed the bedroom door softly behind her, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. As she descended the stairs, she could feel the weight of the jewellery and electronics in her bag. She told herself that she was doing this for the right reasons, that maybe, just maybe, this would be the wake-up call the parents needed to realize how much their daughters were suffering. But deep down, she knew that she was also playing into their game, giving them a taste of the drama and danger that they craved.

It was just as she reached the back door that she heard the sirens.






“You have two very brave girls there.” Said the police sergeant.

“Yes.” Chimed in the victim support officer. “Calmly calling us up then keeping the villain talking till we could get here.”

“Absolute genius. We’ve been on the trail,of this one for a couple of years now.”

[TuggyBoundMale]

Well THAT‘S a trap.

RIP to the cat burglar. Two kids bringing you to jail must suck lmao.

Great story tho, I really liked the twist at the end

[WhereAmI]

Great little story. Pretty darn sneaky for a couple of girls to be that calm and cool. I'm probably in trouble for saying that, Runs and hides.

[Redman]

Plot twist! I feel so gaslit after reading that. Well done!

[latin-self-bound]

Great story! The plot twist was awesome!! The girls performed a well rehearsed act.