Utterly Pointless Drivel
So I woke up in the morning, and there was a naked catgirl in my bed. Just rolled over and there she was, sleeping happily, curled up in a little ball naked with her ears twitching cutely and her big, fluffy tail wrapped around her body and purring softly and naked and furry and soft and did I mention she was naked? Yeah, that she was.
In that sort of situation, there's only one thing a guy can do.
"YESSS! WHO da man?!!" I exclaimed, a little louder than I expected.
"Meow?" the girl said, looking up at me curiously.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Meow?" She sat up and yawned cutely, revealing big, nasty looking fangs.
"Um. . . can you talk?"
"Mew." Purring, the catgirl turned over and revealed her white, fuzzy tummy, looking up at me expectantly.
I blinked in surprise. "Okay, I guess that's a no," I muttered, as I reached out to scritch her tummy. The catgirl mewed and closed her eyes blissfully, purring the whole time.
The door opened. "Hey, Jack!" yelled my roommate, Kenneth. "We've gotta hurry if we're gonna make it to class on ti-hi-hi who the hell is that?" he shouted, pointing at the catgirl.
"HISS!" the catgirl hissed, and she rolled over onto all fours, her tail puffing up as she spat at him, terrified.
"Woah woah woah woah woah!" I yelled. "This is a friend! Friend. . . whoever or whatever you are. . . friend!" This seemed to calm her down a bit: at the very least, she ran off the bed and hid behind my couch, peeking out from behind it at us timidly.
"Jesus Christ, Jack, is that what I think it was?" Kenneth exclaimed, wild-eyed.
"Yeah, buddy," I said sheepishly. "Honest to God catgirl."
"I didn't think they existed," Kenneth said, scratching his head.
"Neither did I." I gestured to the girl to come out, but she shook her head and just hid even further behind the couch. "Shit," I sighed. "Now look, you've scared her."
"Does she have a name?" Kenneth asked curiously. He tried to peek around the corner of the couch, backed off real fast as a clawed hand swiped at his face.
"I have no idea," I sighed. "She doesn't talk."
"Did you check the tag on her collar?" Kenneth asked.
"What collar?"
"The one around her neck?" Kenneth pointed. There was indeed a red leather collar around her neck with a little tag hanging from it.
"I can't read it from here. Why don't you read it?" I asked.
"Me? She nearly took my head off a moment ago, Jack! She's your catgirl, YOU read the damn tag!"
"Fine!" I shouted. I got off the bed and headed towards her, but she backed off even further into the corner. "Shit," I muttered. "Um. . . get some tuna."
"What?"
"Get some tuna from the kitchen. It always worked for my sister's cat."
"Dude, are you smoking crack? This is a catgirl, not some tabby," Kenneth exclaimed.
"Siamese, actually, and would you just shut up and get the damn tuna?" I yelled. Kenny threw up his hands in the air and walked into the kitchen. I sighed and extended my hand to the girl.
She hissed and took a swing at me. "Figures," I muttered, backing off. "First time I got some pussy in months, and she doesn't even want to talk to me afterwards" I quipped, taking out a cigarette and lighting up. "You know, this is a very bad start to the relationship."
"Mew," the girl replied.
"I brought you your goddamn tuna, now can we please go to class before the Prof marks us late?" Kenneth complained, walking back into the room with an open can.
"I'm skipping today," I replied. "I'm getting an A anyway: the way Schowalter grades, I could skip the rest of the semester and still wind up with a B. Besides, you're not even a little interested in this?" I gestured behind the couch, where a white fur-tipped tail peeked out from behind the furniture.
"No," Kenneth replied, "and if you had any sense, you'd run for the hills ASAP. In manga, these things always end up becoming a secret government conspiracy or some sort of alien invasion, and usually heads get cut off in the process. I'm going to class before she sprouts wings and kills us all."
"Wuss!" I yelled at his retreating back. He snapped me the one-finger-salute over his shoulder and left the apartment. I sighed, took some tuna from the can, and extended it to the catgirl. "Here. Ya hungry?" I asked, waving the fragrant fish in front of her. She peeked out at me timidly, her big eyes - one green, one blue - glancing around furtively for threats. "Hey, don't worry," I said, smiling disarmingly and making my voice soft and soothing. "Scary man is gone now. It's just you and me now." She reached out, licked the tuna fish from my fingertips, backed away behind the couch again.
I tipped the rest of the can into a plate at my bedside (I liked my midnight snacks) and extended it to her. She came out from behind the couch, looked around furtively for a moment, then started spooning the fish up with her hands and stuffing it into her mouth. I sighed as I watched her eat. "Must be damn hungry," I mused. "Hey, let me see what I can dig up."
As usual, the fridge contained plenty of frozen pizza, a copious amount of beer (Newcastle for me: Kenneth preferred MGD), and not much else. Given that I wasn't sure how well catgirls would handle dairy, I finally decided on more tuna fish, scooping out lots of the stuff into a big bowl. By this time, she'd ventured out from my bedroom and into the kitchen/living room, peering curiously at the Xbox controller, batting the massive black device with a one hand curiously. "Hey, don't do that," I sighed. "It's not a mouse, you know."
"Meow!" she replied.
"Meow to you too," I murmured. "God, I hope you're toilet trained," I said, laying the bowl out in front of her. "I can't imagine how big a litter box I'd need." She started spooning the fish into her mouth, snuffling hungrily. I sat back and watched her, finishing up my smoke. Her butt was wiggling back and forth as she ate, her tail flirting back and forth happily.
It would have been cute if it weren't so surreal.
She finished eating and started grooming herself: like a cat, I noticed, licking her paw and brushing at her face. "Oh, hell no," I sighed. "Not this time." I reached over and took her hand: she looked up at me curiously, but did not pull away, to my surprise. "That might work for cats, but you're gonna need a bath," I said.
"Mew?" the catgirl replied as I led her into the bathroom. I started the water: not too warm, not too cold, poured in some bubbles, and checked the shampoo bottle. Just as I thought: not nearly enough. Kenneth tended to lather, rinse, repeat, then repeat again, over and over again: he'd told me once he'd had a case of head lice when he was much younger, and he lived in terror of the little buggers crawling into his scalp a second time.
As I unpeeled the wrapper on a new bottle, she perched near the edge of the tub, watching the water level rise. She dipped a finger into the tub experimentally, mewed with surprise at the wetness, and backed away, shaking out her hand. She looked up at me forlornly. "No way, missy," I said firmly. "In you go."
"Mew," she said, resignedly.
I led her into the tub by the hand, and she stepped in, sank in to her neck. I could have sworn she was pouting as I poured the warm water over her head and shoulders then started in with the shampoo. A real cat, I knew, would have been spitting and fighting like hell to get away; the catgirl just seemed to sit there and take it as I poured shampoo liberally into her head-fur, working up a thick lather.
Which reminded me: I reached over to her collar and fingered the silver name tag. It was rectangular, with a symbol I didn't recognize on the front: a sword-and-wing design in red enamel on the steel tag. I turned it over: the other side, I noted, had a bar code and the word "ALIA" in big, block letters. "Alia?" I asked, noted how her ears perked up at the sound of her name. "I guess that's your name," I said. "Alia."
"Mew," the girl replied.
I poured a basin of warm water over her head: she scrunched her eyes shut as the water poured over her, shivering a bit at the sensation. Her expression was just so cute I had to laugh, and she glared up at me sullenly, as if to ask, "What the hell are you laughing about, bub?"
"Sorry," I laughed, holding up my hands disarmingly. "It's just. . . cute, that's all."
"Mew," Alia replied. Suddenly she stood up, water streaming off her body, her soaking wet fur clinging tightly to her voluptuous curves. I gulped nervously as I ran my eyes over her body, suddenly realizing just how well endowed she was: a solid D-cup at least, I thought, and I could feel my pajama pants starting to rise with my desire.
"Mrrrrrr," she purred desperately, and her hands began to run up and down her body, stroking her breasts, her sides, her hips, her head tilted slightly back, her mouth open just a bit, breathing heavily. She looked at me over her shoulder, mewing softly, her blue-and-green eyes wide with need, as one hand reached between her legs to finger her clitoris, parting her folds like an opening flower.
"Shit," I whispered. "You don't have to ask me twice."
I think I set a world record for getting out of clothes and into a bathtub: I swear my hands were moving at supersonic speeds as I pulled off my pajamas, stepped into the tub, and wrapped my arms around her pushing her back against the tiled walls. "Mew!" she cried in surprise, and then her cries were muffled by my mouth as I kissed her on the mouth, feeling her rough, sandpapery tongue against mine, the scent of tuna on her breath. Water spilled from the tub all over the floor, soaking my discarded pajamas, as I lowered my mouth to her breast, teasing the pink nipple from its surrounding, cream-colored fur, one hand massaging her other breast. Her eyes were closed tightly as I slid down her body, running my tongue along her body as I slid down to her sex, licking at her engorged pink folds.
Her eyes were scrunched tightly shut, and she was biting down on one knuckle as I licked and teased at her sex, the taste of her honey salty-sweet on my lips and tongue. Her back was arching as she mewed over and over, running a hand through her hair as I slid mine up and down her sides, relaxing her desire-tensed muscles, tongue flicking in and out.
I tried not to think about tuna jokes.
There came a time when I realized she was getting close: the honey was flowing freely from her folds, her mewing was getting more and more insistent, and sweet shivers were running up and down her damp, furry body as my fingers worked in and out of her hot sex next to my tongue. By this time, our splashing had driven most of the water out of the tub, turning the tiled floor into a soapy swamp, so I lowered her slowly into the tub, resting the back of her head against the rim, cushioned by a (now soaking wet) bath towel folded into a pillow. My cock was throbbing and hot, dripping bathwater as I slid up her body again, looking down at her lithe body, and slid inside.
I think she came with the first thrust, but maybe I'm just being self-delusional about my prowess. In any case, it was like I'd just hit the "Go Crazy" button on her, as she started digging her claws deep into my back, caterwauling like a stray in heat. . . which I guess she was. Her soaking wet fur rubbed against my sensitive skin as I thrust in again and again and again, heart pounding with desire as we. . .
"JACK!!!!"
My eyes snapped open. Kenneth stood in the doorway, glaring at me angrily. "Yo, fuckhead, hands off cocks and put on socks, we've gotta get GOING, or we're going to be LATE!!"
I glanced around the room. No naked catgirl. It had all been a dream. A motherfuckin' dream, like it was some stupid story written by a hack writer who had no idea how to end a story and decided to take the easy way out.
"Kenny," I said, in a low, dangerous voice. "In the words of R.K. Milholland, I'm about to kick your ass, and you're just going to have to accept that you deserve it."
- END -