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[b][u][center]The House of Haunted Dreams

For FriskeCrisps

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Laundry day had another name in Sammy’s mind, and that name was [i]Hell.[/i] Having collected so many clothes over the course of his life, the tabby cat was constantly in the process of shoving old stuff into the attic and bringing other stuff into his room. There was always the chance that something from up top would come back into service, however, and that meant that – once a year – everything got brought down and washed rather than just the stuff that he wore on a regular basis.

And it was a mess. There were no less than twenty black garbage bags scattered around the place, each one carefully emptied of socks and shirts, sweats and underwear, and other various contents that were tossed into the washing machine one after another. He had been at it off and on all day long, and he was only now getting toward the end of the deluge of garments.

“Never…again,” Sammy muttered as he pulled the last of the clothes out of the dryer. “I’m lying, but never…ever…again.”

He groaned as he stood up, the barely-grown cat popping his back as he stretched. Oh, he wasn’t supposed to sound like that already. He wasn’t even in his thirties. He wasn’t supposed to have joints that went pop yet.

Grumbling, he dragged the new basket out of the laundry room and into the living room. He rested the basket on the couch and started pulling things out.

Shirt, shirt, socks, pants. All of them were old, some of them ratty enough that he would be better off either donating them or throwing them out. He wouldn’t – he never did. There was the chance that they might look better in the future, and besides, they were all part of his history.

Sammy smiled despite himself at that, shaking his head as he tossed the latest pair of socks back toward a fresh black bag. They’d go into the attic again and he wouldn’t see them for another year, but it was nice remembering that they had been a part of his life.

[i]I think I wore those in high school when I was graduating,[/i] he thought, shaking his head at the memory. [i]Heh, those socks and the high-top sneakers…[/i]

That had been humiliating, honestly. He’d been just about to walk across the stage to get his diploma, head held high, a full-on strut for being a good student and finally getting the chance to show off, only for everything to come crashing down as he tumbled head over heels onto the stage.

Nobody had let him forget that. He doubted that they ever would.

Most of his memories were tied to whatever he had been wearing at the time, which was the other reason that half of his clothes ended up in the attic. It was easier to forget the humiliating events when he wasn’t wearing the same thing day in and day out. So, throwing embarrassing clothes into the attic was his way of forgetting the stupid things that he used to do as a kitten and teenager.

[i]Not that that one was that bad,[/i] he thought, shaking his head as he reached into the basket for the next bit. [i]I did a lot of stupid things when I was still in school. Heh. The stupid pranks, the clumsy days…[/i]

He’d had a number of embarrassing memories from back then. The worst had been during fall, just when Halloween season was starting to come ‘round. There were always pranks to be dealt with during the rest of the year, but there was something about Halloween and the haunted house season where –

He blinked, freezing in place as he pulled out a blue-yellow shirt that he hadn’t seen since his younger days. Somehow, the shirt looked like it would still fit him, though heaven knew how that would ever be possible. He turned it around, shaking his head slowly in disbelief as he chuckled under his breath.

“Wow…never thought I’d see you again…”

It was almost like dropping into the memories of high school again, remembering wearing that stupid thing at the Halloween carnival. He’d had that, his signature red sweatpants, the blue shoes, everything that was part of a Sammy Stowes look. He’d walked through the booths, ‘round the back to the haunted house and –

Yeah, no. He wasn’t going to keep going with that memory. Not with where it ended: with humiliation, bondage, and a boner that all the other students had poked at for minutes on end.

Blushing as some of the memories came through – some of his bullies gathered around him, his shoelaces used to tie him to a light post, the way that his boner had been bouncing up and down with every word that the jerks said – Sammy tossed the shirt over the back of the couch and shook his head. Hot as it was in retrospect, he wasn’t going to spend the night thinking about bullies and haunted houses. That was just silly.

He pushed through the last load of clothing, put most of them into black baggies, and carried them to the ladder that led up to the attic. Some of them could have gone up now, but as soon as he put the bags down, he felt the tiredness from the long day settling right into his bones. He groaned under his breath, leaning against the ladder before making the decision to wait.

“It’ll keep ‘til morning.”

Leaving the bags of old clothes and old memories where they lay, he walked back through the living room, gave the blue and yellow shirt one more look, and blushed as he felt a little twitch between his legs.

“Nah, that…that’s a loser shirt. I’m not a loser anymore. I’m one cool cat, and I’d never be like that again…”

Sammy shook his head and hurried past his couch, trying not to look at the shirt anymore and hoping that it’d stay out of his mind. He should have packed it up. Why didn’t he pack it up?

Well, he was too tired to do it now, so it’d just have to wait until next time. He’d just do it after he woke up and felt better.

That’d work.

That’d be fine.

Sammy collapsed into bed, his sweats still clinging tight and his shirt feeling sweaty and warmer than he’d like. He rolled over onto his back, shaking his head as he debated taking everything off. He eventually decided against it, too tired to bother getting it all off. After all, it was lazy-time, and that meant just ignoring it for now.

He pulled his pillow up to his head, leaned against it, and closed his eyes. In seconds, he was out cold and drifting off to dreamland.

#

It was cold.

Sammy blinked as he looked around, the sky dark and the few lights that existed faint and far off in the distance. It felt familiar, almost, as if he had been here before, and he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that he was…

He was walking?

Why was he walking?

The tabby cat slowed, looking around. It still felt so familiar, like he had been here just…

Just…

Sammy groaned, rubbing his forehead, only to blink as he looked down at his arm. It wasn’t the usual gray hoodie or other shirts that he wore these days. No, this was…

This was the blue and yellow shirt.

[i]Of course it’s the blue and yellow shirt. I always wear that. It’s cool.[/i]

It was, but –

Wait.

Huh?

Sammy shook his head, feeling like something was off. He didn’t know what, but there was something that shouldn’t have been happening. He had been…he…

Ugh.

The tabby cat looked around. He was on the side of the road, not so far off in the country for there to be a dirt road, but far enough away from the city to lose the sidewalks. There was a clear, starry night overhead, and the only lights that he could see were at a festival some way off – some kind of fair – and –

Sammy blinked, staring at the old house that loomed to his right. It soared upward, at least three stories tall, and the only light in it was in the one window on the top floor. There were dozens of other windows, all cracked, and the house itself was the kind of gray that one only saw in black and white horror films to suggest that it was a horrific place. Surrounded on all sides by an iron-wrought fence, it was exactly the kind of old house that nobody ever wanted to visit willingly.

[i]The haunted house…[/i]

It was like a memory and a reality at the same time. For a second, it almost felt like he had already been here, that he had done this, but the feeling faded quickly, replaced with a sense of wariness.

[i]The haunted house…Everyone goes in there…right?[/i]

It was part of Halloween tradition. Everyone went in there, and everyone came out with a ghost story or three. He remembered last year’s seniors doing just that, while he was…he was still supposed to…

“Hey, where’s that loser cat?”

Sammy’s ears flicked back. It was a familiar voice, one of his classmates that was constantly on his case to find a new sense of fashion. Dropping the sweatpants, finding jeans, and more, the black and white cat was always pushing limits. He hadn’t been called out by the teachers back in school just yet, but he was always treading the line just before he would have been kicked out of class or something.

And now he was coming down the street.

The tabby cat saw him and some of the other popular girls and guys. None of them were dressed up for the carnival – clearly too ‘cool’ for that – but they had the kind of sneers on their faces that said they were looking for victims.

For him, in this case. They were looking for that ‘loser cat’, and he knew that they meant him.

Sammy whipped his head from the gathering crowd of bullies to the house again. It…it was just a house, right? Just a house. Hauntings weren’t real, after all, that was just the sort of ghost story that people passed around to sound all adult. He could run in there and be safe and nothing would happen to him.

Right?

He didn’t have much of a choice. He had to run away before they spotted him and chased him down. Sammy took one step –

“OOF!”

And tripped over his shoelaces. He tumbled off the side of the road into the dirt patch by the wrought-iron fence, groaning as he looked over his shoulder.

[i]They were tied just a minute ago.[/i]

Well, they weren’t tied now. Sammy rolled over, pulling one shoe up –

“Hey, there he is!”

Only to realize that he didn’t have time. The tabby cat lunged to his feet and ran for the gate. It opened easily under his hand and he passed through –

“GAH!”

Only to step on another lace and nearly go flying to the ground. He saved himself with a series of stutter-steps, barely staying on his feet, but he swore that his laces were trying to get underfoot, trying to trip him up.

[i]No way, they’re just shoes. There’s nothing – just keep running![/i]

The bullies chased after him, shouting and laughing as they did. He was sure that at least one of them had already leaped the fence and was running across the overgrown yard to catch him. Sammy kept his eyes down, staring at his shoes even as he kept running for the house. Over the cobblestones, up the stairs, right to the front door where he fumbled around for the doorknob. He finally found it and yanked the door open and threw himself inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hey, loser, come on, let us in!” someone shouted, thumping on the door.

Sammy leaned against it, gasping for breath as he slammed the lock shut. No way. No way was he going to be that stupid.

“Heh, going to take your chances with the ghost? Big mistake, cat. You’re going to get put through the wringer in there. You sure you got the guts to take them on alone?” his bully called.

“I’m safer in here than I am out there!” Sammy shouted.

“You sure about that?”

He really, really wasn’t, but he had to put on at least some kind of show. The cat thumped his fist on the door.

“Get out of here. I’m not coming out!”

“Heh, suit yourself, loser. But you’re going to wish that we caught you instead of the ghosts.”

“There’s no such thing!”

“Heh, that’s what we all said. But hey, you gotta learn somehow. Come on, guys. He’ll be a while…”

Sammy kept leaning against the door, listening as the sound of footsteps started, then faded away. He leaned his head back against the door without as much force, taking a few deep breaths as his heart slowly calmed down with the rest of him.

That had been too close. If they’d managed to catch him, he just knew that it would have been embarrassing. Last time, they’d ripped the laces out of his shoes and tied him to the locker room bench, his hips thrust forward with a few pillows under his back. It meant that the second he got a boner, everyone could see it, and because kids were cruel, that meant that he was mocked relentlessly.

And that didn’t help his boner, either, but that was made so much worse by the second, hidden set of laces that had been tied around his cock to keep it hard and [i]throbbing.[/i] It had been impossible to go soft, no matter how much he’d wanted to.

Slowly, the tabby cat pushed himself upright again. Now that he was in the haunted house, he knew that he’d have to deal with getting out again. He hadn’t planned on doing this before summer – well, anytime after winter, really, just to have more light in the house – but now that he was here, he might as well get the tradition done. Every high school student had to do the haunted house walk at some point or other; skipping it made you a chicken, and nobody wanted to be that.

Nobody wanted to be that kind of loser.

Sammy put his hands in his pockets and looked around. The front room of the haunted house wasn’t too bad. A couple of couches, a couple of pictures. Not that bad, really, not that different from any other house, save for the fact that it was definitely older. He could be comfortable enough here –

[i]It’s worse upstairs. That’s where all the bad stuff is. Upstairs.[/i]

Again, it was a feeling like he was remembering this rather than living it. He didn’t know what it was, but he had a faint feeling of seeing something…something blue, something glowing, something that lived in the darkness upstairs. A shiver from a fear that he didn’t understand ran up and down his spine, and he bit his lips as he looked back at the front door.

No, he couldn’t just leave. Better to do this now and make sure that his bullies really left. They’d get bored eventually and run away.

[i]Just…find somewhere to explore,[/i] the tabby thought, turning around. [i]Maybe there’s some stairs to see what’s hidden up the second floor.[/i]

He took a step forward –

“GAH!”

And immediately fell flat on his face as he stepped on his shoelaces again. He slammed into the ground hard enough to make his shoulder sore, and he rolled onto his other side, glaring down at his shoes.

“Are you trying to trip me up?”

If they weren’t so expensive, he would have left them behind, but he wasn’t going to lose a pair of shoes that he had paid so much money for. Sammy rolled over, sitting up and pulling his shoe over. He grabbed the aglets of the laces, twisted, turned, and knotted the laces –

Only for the knot to immediately come apart as soon as he took his fingers off them. He blinked, staring at the undone mess, only to try again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, he was sure that he had tied the knot perfectly. The rasping sound of the laces sliding together was enough to tell him that they were getting enough friction to hold it, so why was it coming undone every time? It didn’t make sense.

Eventually, Sammy gave up and tucked the laces into the shoes themselves. It wasn’t ideal, but at least they weren’t going to be underfoot anymore. That’d have to be enough.

As he stood up again, he swore that he could feel them shifting in his shoes, almost like snakes. When he looked down, they stopped, but every time that he looked away, he swore that they moved again. It wasn’t quite a ticklish feeling, but it was just disturbing enough that he kept looking down when he should have been paying attention to where he was walking.

It made him miss the staircase the first time. He walked right by it, heading further down the hall before he stopped, turned around, and saw the creaky-looking wood steps leading to the second floor. The tabby cat groaned, glaring down at his shoes.

“You’re going to get me lost at this rate. God, why am I talking to my shoes? Am I [i]that[/i] much of a loser?”

They even squeaked as he turned, something that he’d been all but sure he’d made them stop doing. He bit his lips as he made himself keep walking, trying not to think too hard about how things were already getting weird.

[i]Just my imagination. It’s not actually haunted. There’s no such thing as ghosts…[/i]

Up, around, and up again, and he reached the second floor. There was a dull blue light from the ceiling, almost like powerful glow in the dark stickers rather than an actual light fixture. He told himself that it was nothing, that it didn’t mean that there were ghosts around or anything, and took a step forward –

“Oh…oh, wow…”

Sammy stopped dead in his tracks as he found himself staring at a portrait of a naked woman. His cheeks burned bright red as he stared at the Russian Blue feline, a wealthy-looking female that stood tall with her arms crossed just under her breasts. She smiled at the painter and the viewer, her legs pressed tightly together so one couldn’t see anything down there, but she had plenty of boob to go around.

“Uh, that-that’s a p-p-pretty picture,” Sammy said, whirling around with red cheeks. “But – uh – I don’t have to look at that. I’m a classy cat. I’ll just go the other wa-a-a-aaaaat?!”

Except that down the other hallway were other portraits, these ones of men, and the first one was a wolf, tall, dark gray in color, and showing off everything that he had to offer. Just like the Russian Blue, the wolf’s arms were crossed at his chest, but unlike her, he had his legs spread and everything on display. His cock was pointed forward, a boner that was shamelessly displayed, and his balls hung down far enough that Sammy wondered how the dog was able to move around with getting them pinched between his legs.

The tabby covered his eyes, blushing bright enough for his face to burn. God, he’d never imagined that there’d be things like…like that in here.

Sammy’s cheeks burned as he looked from portrait to portrait. Boobs and boners alike were all over the place, with one side of the hallway covered with females and the other side with males. There was no shame in any of their pictures, and with each one that he saw, he felt something more…intense…building up between his legs. His sweatpants felt tighter and tighter, and he squeezed his knees together until –

“Mmmmph…”

A boner popped up, hard and firm, tenting his pants. Still burning with a bright blush, he dragged his shirt down over it. There was no one to see it, but that didn’t mean anything to him; he was popping a boner in somewhere close to public, and he wasn’t about to let that be seen.

He ran. The pictures seemed to stare at him as he ran by, some of them almost like they were following him down the corridor. He could feel their eyes on him, the naked boobs and throbbing boners in the art feeling like they were because of him.

And his boner throbbed in response as he ran by. There were so many –

A black cat with his hips thrust forward, boner drooling pre-cum.

A giraffe female, standing in profile, ass and boobs pushed out.

A dragoness with her head tilted forward, almost like she was offering her mouth to the viewer.

A Doberman with his legs spread, showing off his low-hanging orbs.

The list went on and on, and Sammy’s cheeks burned brighter and brighter as he ran faster and faster.

[i]Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out.[/i]

The stairs were forgotten; he had to find a room that was safe, a room that didn’t have pictures in it. He ran around another corner –

“GAH!”

And almost ran face-first into a picture of a grand, mighty cheetah, one who stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes downcast, looking down at Sammy as if the cheetah was judging him a loser. The fact that the whole thing was full-sized, standing taller than the tabby cat did, only made it worse. As did the…the big dick that the cheetah had, and how it looked even bigger than his did, and –

Throb.

Throb.

Throb.

His boner was so hard that it was almost in pain, twitching and grinding against the inside of his sweatpants. He took a step back, trying to back away from the image, only for –

“NOT AGAIN!”

He tumbled over and thumped against the floor panels, groaning as he knocked the air right out of his lungs. He rolled over and –

And stared as he saw the laces of his shoes tying themselves together. His mouth fell open as the aglets clicked against each other, the laces rustling as they pulled tight in two bow-tie knots. He tried to pull his shoes apart, but the bindings held tight, keeping them from moving more than a few inches apart.

“What…how…”

Even as he stared at his bound shoes, a shimmering blue took shape. His mouth dropped open as a ghostly figure appeared, only the torso and top-half, with nothing but fumes and shredded light for anything below the waist. The ghost floated closer, grinning at the tabby cat.

“Hehehehe, what’s the matter? The little loser running away?”

“What the hell are you?!”

“Oh, don’t you start screaming. Besides…looks like someone was enjoying the house’s artwork.”

The ghost poked him – and he felt it. He gasped as the glowing finger nudged his boner, making the tent in his pants shift ever so slightly. He gritted his teeth, huffing through them as his dick twitched from the gentle tease.

“Ooooh, what do we have here, hmm? A sensitive little boner boy? What’d happen if I started stroking it?”

“D-don’t,” Sammy said, trying to scoot back, only for the ghost to follow him. “Leave me alone, I just wanna get out of here!”

“Too late for that. You came running in [i]my[/i] house, and now, I get to have a little fun with you.”

Sammy tried to roll over and get back to his feet, but his shoes had other plans. He barely managed to get one foot under him before the laces yanked the shoes out from under him, almost making him face-plant again. Groaning as the air was knocked straight out of his lungs, he yelped as the ghost rolled him over again, floating over his chest.

“Hehehe, what’s the rush? Boner-kitty thinking that he’ll run home and take care of this in private?”

Whatever Sammy would have said was lost in a whimper as the ghost grabbed him through his sweatpants, squeezing his bulge just hard enough to draw a bit of pre-cum from the head. He whimpered, biting his lips at the sheer pleasure that came with it.

“Nnnngh…”

“Ooooh, boner boy with a hair trigger, huh? I bet you won’t take long. Naughty little bulge bouncing away just from a few naughty pictures.”

“Nnngh…I didn’t…I didn’t want – just let me – gah!”

He couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The constant tugging and teasing, stroking and playing around with his dick made it nearly impossible for him to breathe, let alone speak. His eyes were rolling back in their sockets as the ghost kept tugging, pulling, nudging his boner around, never quite stroking it the way that he would have done it, but always making sure that he was grinding against the inside of his own clothing.

Worse, his shoelaces were taking on a life of their own. One set untied themselves and slithered up behind his back. They dragged his hands back down, pinning them together at the small of his back and holding them there. Sammy was completely pinned in place, his arms trapped and his hips pushed upward.

And the ghost wouldn’t stop touching him. Squeeze, stroke, squeeze, stroke. Always pulling the cloth of the sweatpants tight around his boner, making it show him off all the more. The tip of his tent was already getting slick and dark with all the pre-cum dripping out, and he whimpered.

“P-please –”

“P-please, heh. Boner-kitties like you don’t get a say. You’re gonna show that naughty thing off, you gotta take responsibility for it. And that means that I get to play with it for as long as it stays hard.”

It was getting worse and worse, the heat getting stronger and stronger around his dick as the ghost stroked him harder. It was never painful, but the friction and the slime from all his dripping was making it harder to think of anything but that ghost hand. Stroke, squeeze, stroke, squeeze.

Sammy tried to pull his hips back, but it was impossible. The ghost had too good a grip on him, and there were some tugs when the ghost pulled hard enough that he had to arch his back off the floor. He all but thrust into those blue, transparent fingers at that point, and the dark spot on his sweatpants bubbled with more pre-cum.

“Almost there, aint’cha?”

“Nnngh…”

“Go on. You know you want to.”

“Nnngh…n-not a…a pervert…not like that…”

“Oh, come on. You’re a big pervert. Running down the hall with a flagpole in your pants. And you’re right there now…”

The ghost leaned down, his blue, see-through face right beside Sammy’s bulge. The ghost laughed, squeezing and stroking faster than ever.

“Do it, boner-cat. Do it. Cum in your sweatpants. Cum and make a nice sticky mess in there. Humiliate yourself. It’s the only way that you’re getting out of here. Go on. Do it. Do it. Do it!”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnn –”

#

“GAH!”

Sammy gasped, opening his eyes as he wheezed for breath, only to feel a spreading warmth between his legs. The tabby cat yelped, throwing the blankets out of the way while he was still trying to catch his breath –

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…”

It was more than just a wet dream; it was a swampy, slimy dream, one he was still cumming from. He felt like he could had fried eggs on his cheeks from how much he was blushing, and it only got worse as he watched the wet stain spread across the front of his sweatpants.

[i]Oh god, oh god…[/i]

He’d remembered the haunted house, but he hadn’t remembered any ghosts. Had that actually happened, or was that just a naughty dream from all the other stuff that had happened that night?

He remembered getting caught with a boner outside the house after it was all done, and he remembered the bullies tying him to a light post and teasing his boner, pulling his sweats down and making him get hard in his briefs to show off to anyone that passed by, but he didn’t remember a ghost.

That’s because ghosts didn’t exist though…

Right?

He shivered, panting and huffing as he leaned over the edge of the bed. His shoes were on the ground, and there was no sign of the blue glow that had infused the laces in the dream. He looked out toward the living room, and the shirt was out there, laying on the back of the couch. It was nowhere near him.

Sammy leaned back against the bed, one hand to his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

“Just a bad dream. That’s all. Just a bad dream.”

Even so, it was a dream that had made him completely soak his way through his sweatpants. He hadn’t had a wet dream like that since he was still in high school, and even then, he struggled to think of any that had been this potent. He bit his lips as he touched the wet spot, pulling his hand away to feel the sheer amount of slime that was soaking through the fabric.

Cheeks still as bright as they could get, he climbed out of bed, shucked off his sweats and his underwear, and embarrassedly walked down the hall to the shower. No way in hell was he going to spend the night in that kind of mess. That was gross, disgusting, the sort of thing that only a loser would do.

[i]Boner kitty.[/i]

A shiver ran down his spine, the memory of the ghost’s tease hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. He shook his head as he spun the knobs and got the water flowing, stepping under while it was still cold. It was almost too much, but at least it shocked the horny thinking out of him.

Sammy shook his head as he grabbed the soap and started washing his crotch clean. He didn’t know how that shirt had sparked those thoughts, but he wasn’t a pervert. He wasn’t a loser. He was a [i]cool[/i] cat, and anyone that thought otherwise was wrong. Maybe he’d been a bit of a weirdo in his high school days, but he wasn’t like that anymore.

But yet…

He slowed his cleaning, slowly staring into space. It had been a very, very long time since he’d been to the haunted house. He barely remembered it. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go back there, see if he was remembering it right.

And maybe he could prove to himself that there were no ghosts there, and that it was only his horny brain that made him think that there were.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A little story of a naughty kitty getting all kinds of fun in a haunted house.

Tags: M/solo, M/ghost, Ghost Masturbation, Embarrassment, Bulge, Cum in Pants, Over Clothes Masturbation, Cat, Humiliation, Cum, Orgasm, Wet Dream,