Modern medicine cannot explain what happened. Many doctors tried, but none could identify the ailment that afflicted me. Their only recourse was to identify my symptoms—extreme fatigue and delirium—and suggest extensive bed rest and a high fluid intake. They were equally dumbfounded by my miraculous recovery. I remain similarly uncertain as to the nature of my peculiar illness, yet I will forever cherish the memories of those ten days I spend in bed. Hopefully you will too.
It had been mere hours since the appearance of the first symptoms and already the family doctor had given orders restricting me to my bed. Under normal circumstances, I would have been thrilled at the thought of missing a few days of school, but, given my extreme fatigue, enjoying my time off was impossible. No matter what I did, be it watch TV or read a book, I kept nodding off. And it was still quite early. In a final attempt at resisting sleep’s inviting embrace, I did something I knew would keep me firmly rooted in reality.
My hand slipped under the covers and slithered across my naked body until it reached my pussy. I began massaging my clit. A moan of delight floated past my lips. Two of my fingers slid into my wet slit. My eyes slowly closed and my breathing quickened. This was my first time masturbating since I had turned eighteen. It was bound to be a memorable experience. And it was, only not in the way I had hoped.
Soft moans toppled from my mouth as my fingers slid in and out of my wet slit. My free hand traveled to my breasts and began teasing my nipples. They were stiff with excitement. Each touch sent a shiver of delight rippling through me. My breathing quickened as I felt the familiar feel of nearing climax. It was only a matter of time before…
That was the last thing I remembered. One second I was pleasuring myself and the next I was asleep. Instantly, I started to dream.
I stood on a wooden porch. The planks creaked beneath me as I turned to study my surroundings. I instantly recognized the neighborhood. It belonged in my memories. Two houses down stood my childhood home. As thrilled as I was to see it, I was even more excited by the house that stood behind me. I whipped around and my suspicions were confirmed. It was my aunt’s house.
Aunt Abby had always been my favorite aunt. She was a little eccentric and owned far more cats than I could count—I had tried once, only to give up after passing the hundred cat mark—but I loved her dearly. Every time I came over, she would offer me home-baked cookies and a tall glass of milk. I visited her at least once a day for most of my childhood. But, mere days after my eleventh birthday, she passed away. No one knew the true cause for her passing, but many believed the cats turned on her and ate her alive. I never believed such a thing.
I had often fantasized about seeing her again, but knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking. Yet there I stood, feeling like an excited little girl visiting her favorite aunt after a long day at school. I feared I had reverted back to that innocent little girl, yet a quick downwards glance told me I was still the beautiful eighteen-year-old I had grown to be.
My excitement quickly became too much to handle. I reached out and knocked tentatively. Instantly, a familiar voice reached my ears.
“Come in,” said my aunt. “I’m in the kitchen.”
My tentative excitement turned to giddy exhilaration. I threw the door open and rushed in. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. The tacky furniture. The poor lighting. And the cats. They were everywhere. On the couch; on the floor; one had even climbed onto a bookshelf. He clearly regretted his decision, because he was now meowing to get down. I felt bad for him, but my joy at seeing my aunt again was too much to contain.
I rushed to the kitchen, but stopped before entering. I hesitated for a second, then stepped past the threshold. Standing before the stove was my aunt. She was exactly as I remembered her. Short and stubby, but with a wide smile constantly plastered across her lips. She was in the process of removing the cookies from the oven when I entered. They smoked slightly as she placed them on the counter to let them cool. There was already a glass of milk on the counter. She must have known I was coming.
She turned to me and smiled. “You’ve grown,” she said. For a moment I thought she could actually see me as I now was, but then I remembered she used to always do this when I was a kid. I played along.
“No I haven’t,” I shot back. I was beaming.
“Yes you have,” she insisted as she handed me a steaming cookie and the glass of milk. I snatched the cookie and took a large bite. It was just as I remembered. I took a swig of milk and swallowed. In mere seconds, the cookie was gone.
“In fact,” continued my aunt, “you’re so big you deserve another cookie.” She handed me another steaming treat. I vanished as quickly as the last. I had not been this happy in a long time.
Aunt Abby and I spent the entire day together. We did all the things we used to do when I was a kid. We played games; we dressed her cats in silly outfits; we baked another batch of cookies. Everything was exactly as I remembered. But, like in my childhood memories, the perfect day eventually came to an end and the time for me to go home finally arrived. But I was having so much fun I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with my favorite aunt for the rest of my life. And that’s exactly what I told her.
My aunt pretended to think about it before finally agreeing to let me stay the night. I was so excited I hugged her. It made her laugh and in no time we were giggling uncontrollably. We spent the evening playing games. It was a magical night. The only downside was that it had to end.
Aunt Abby tucked me in. It had taken us almost an hour to transform her pussy playroom into a guest room and another thirty minutes to retrieve all the cats. But it was worth it because I now felt as safe and cozy as when I was a kid.
Deep down I knew none of this was real, yet I was so desperate for it to be more than a dream that I played along and waited for sleep to gain me. But, no matter how long I waited, it would not come. Perhaps it was because falling asleep in a dream is impossible. Or perhaps it was because I was too horny to sleep. I cannot recall the exact moment it happened, but I was now so turned on sex was all I could think about.
I lay atop the covers, the cool evening air tickling my skin and cooling my hot body. A shiver ran down my spine as one of my hands slithered down my body. This time I did not bother to tease. I slid two fingers into my wet slit and began jerking them about. Soft moans flowed past my lips as my eyes fluttered shut.
It was a great feeling to be able to pleasure myself without constant fear of my illness pulling me deep into slumber. I could focus all of my attention on the joy that filled me; on the wetness of my slit; on the feel of my fingers darting in and out of me. It took a moment before I realized something was wrong.
My fingers momentarily left my slit, yet the arousal that filled me remained. I felt something slither across my labia. It was hot and prickly. It was a familiar feeling, yet one I was unable to identify. My sexual excitement made it impossible for me to think clearly. All I could do was lay there and enjoy the feel of that mysterious thing slithering across my slit.
It was not until it slithered deep into me that I finally recognized it. My eyes flew open and my head shot up. My gaze travelled down my body until it reached the animal standing between my legs. The beast in question was a beautiful cat by the name of Fluffy. He was one of my aunt’s favorites. I was now beginning to understand why.
I watched the animal’s tongue dart in and out of me, too stunned to figure out how to react. I knew I could not let Fluffy’s tongue remain within me, yet the way it made me feel was undeniable. I had never felt this aroused, this happy. But it was wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong. Then why did it feel so good?
I struggled with what to do. On one hand bestiality was both wrong and illegal. On the other it brought me more arousal than ever before. What was more important? Giving in to my perverse feelings or doing what is right? I weighed the pros and the cons, but no matter how hard I tried, I remained unable to make up my mind. In time, the decision was made for me.
Fluffy continued to lick my pussy. That small, spike-covered tongue of his darted in and out of me, bringing me more joy than any of my previous lovers. Perhaps it was the taboo aspect of bestiality. Perhaps it was the roughness of the licks brought on by the barbs that covered the animal’s tongue. Or perhaps it was simply because I was delirious.
I forgot all about my aunt and began moaning powerfully. Encouraged by them, Fluffy licked faster. He kept going until I finally climaxed. My chest now rose and feel to the rhythm of my rapid breaths. My head was thrust back in ecstasy. My body shook uncontrollably. Then it finally happened. I began to squirt.
The hot cum gushed out of me. It sprayed onto the small feline’s face, but the brave animal fought on. His tongue continued to dart in and out of me throughout my entire orgasm. Even when the last squirt oozed out of me, he continued to pleasure me.
I lay there, panting and moaning as Fluffy licked my pussy. I had just come, but already I felt my sexual hunger return. I no longer cared that bestiality was wrong. It did not even matter that my aunt was in the next room. I simply focused on my feline lover’s tongue and moaned.
Fluffy suddenly stopped licking. My eyes flew open and I peered down at the puffy animal. He stared back and meowed. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me, but it seemed important. This theory was proven correct when he placed his front paws on my stomach. I wondered what he was up to until he moved his body forward and something pointy pressed to the mouth of my pussy. It was his cock.
My eyes widened in disbelief. Being licked to climax by a cat was one thing, but letting him fuck me was quite another. Before I could decide if I was willing to let such a thing happen, he jerked forward and his member slid into me.
“Fuck!” I yelped. The surprise than filled my voice quickly faded, giving way to arousal. In no time at all, I was moaning as my feline lover repeatedly forced himself into me. Like his tongue, Fluffy’s cock was covered in small barbs. I recall my aunt once telling me they were designed to rake the vaginal walls to help trigger ovulation. It may have been quite painful for a female cat, but to me it brought an added layer of delight to an already incredible experience.
Fluffy was an exceptional lover. His member may have been quite small by human standards, the manner in which he propelled it in and out of me pushed me far beyond my usual limits. I moaned and writhed until my seemingly unquenchable sexual hunger was finally satiated. I began to squirt. My orgasm was far more intense than any I ever had before. My cum sprayed onto my thighs, warming me with its heat. Fluffy’s own semen soon joined it and brought even more warmth to my body. In no time at all, I lost my hold on reality. All I could do was moan and enjoy the intense orgasm that shook my body.
I could not tell how long it lasted. All I knew was that I had never before been so completely satisfied. I lay there for the longest time, panting madly. By the time I opened my eyes, the world around me had changed.
It took a moment for me to understand what had happened. My aunt’s improvised guest room was gone, as was Fluffy. In their place now stood my bedroom. The cold sweat that covered every inch of my body was enough to remind me of my mysterious illness. It also told me the bestial sex I had just shared with my aunt’s cat was nothing more than a dream. A surprisingly enjoyable and incredibly perverse dream, but a figment of my imagination nonetheless.
Part of me was relieved it was only a dream. Another craved the sexual release my dream lover had brought me. Deep down, I feared I would never truly know how I felt. That was my final thought before my illness dragged me back to the arms of sleep. I spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of sleep. I had no idea how I felt about my bestial dream, yet I could tell it would not be the only one of its kind. Perhaps being bed-ridden for the next few days would not be such a bad thing after all.
To be continued...