Sheila meets a new friend.
#1 of Sheila
Sheila hopped out of bed that morning, shucking of her long T-shirt and small panties that she slept in, tossing them into the dirty clothes hamper. The alarm clock next to her bed had a small dent in it from when she pounded on the snooze button. The shower was right next to her room, and no one came down to the lower section of the house until well into the evening, but still she wrapped a towel around herself for modesty's sake. The water cascaded down her soft, black fur as she lathered up for a fresh new day. She rubbed the white patch of fur on her belly with the shampoo loofa as she carefully maneuvered her head so that the water wouldn't rinse out the conditioner too soon, even though the fur on her head was no different from the fur on the rest of her body.
As always, after her shower, she evaluated herself in the mirror, addressing what she liked and - more importantly - what she didn't like about her body. She was skinny, which her mother called a miracle of metabolism. Her breasts were still flat, which she absolutely hated, because some of the other girls in her class already were wearing low cut necklines that showed off cleavage worthy of angelic choir. Her fur was pristine - soft, shiny, and easily manageable - something that some of the other girls couldn't seem to get the hang of. Her triangular ears twitched, but that happened to all cats, so she didn't pay them much mind. And then, finally, there was her face, which she didn't think was cute, but others seemed to. Of course, she reasoned, she didn't see her face all that often, so she wasn't going to be too critical about that.
The downstairs of the house was a basement, but it didn't have that creepy 'monster-hiding-in-the-darkness' feel to it. It was like a normal floor of the house, only it didn't have windows, and behind the fake wood-paneling was concrete.
The upstairs wasn't much different, except there were windows. Fake wood-paneling lined the walls, and the brown carpet made the place look like a dirt pit, in Sheila's eyes. The living room was the heart of the house; from it, you could access the main door, back door, kitchen, downstairs, upstairs, and the hallway that led to all the bathroom and bedrooms. The couch was the heart of the living room - dull, brown, almost itchy fabric sat in the middle of the room, allowing space for people to pass behind, in front of, or around. As usual, it faced the television.
Sheila plopped down and immediately began to enjoy her day off from school. The couch, though almost itchy, was soft, she was in her pajama pants (which she oddly never wore to sleep) and T-shirt, and the cereal in front of her was chalk-full of sugar. She flipped on the TV and trusted her miraculous metabolism to work off the sugar-bombs she was eating while she vegged out and watched early morning cartoons.
As the day wore on, the cartoons degraded to baby stuff, and every other channel was playing soap operas. She sighed as she clicked off the TV and got up to put away her empty bowl.
There was a knock on the door. She froze. Years ago her mother told her never to answer the door when she was alone, but that was a long time ago, and she was twelve now. She steeled her courage and walked to the door.
At the same time, her older sister, Hellen, came tramping down the stairs.
"That's for me," she said, her makeup half done. She opened the door and greeted her friends. Sheila was jealous of her sister's friend's. The guys were cute, and really friendly, and the girls were pretty friendly, too.
"Just make yourselves at home," said Hellen, "I'll finish up my makeup."
Sheila sat back down on the couch and pretended to be interested in 'The Heart of Love' while the guys, a skinny wolf and a tall, bulky fox, sat at the kitchen table. They talked about video games while Hellen's other friend, the girl bunny, ran up to chat with Hellen.
The wolf had a bad habit of picking things up and fiddling with them, so when he picked up her mom's back massager, Sheila paid it no mind, or at least tried to. She resisted the urge to tell him to put it down when he started tossing it up and catching it.
The boys' conversation moved over to something more interesting: which girls they had a crush on. The wolf, Eric, admitted that he liked the bunny, and the fox, Mike, muttered something about his bad luck with all the girls he'd been with, so having a crush on anybody was replaced by an all-consuming bitterness.
"Hey, Sheila," said the Eric, who always liked treated Sheila like a friend, "What do you think. Do I have a chance with Wanda?" Wanda was the bunny.
Sheila tore herself away from the soap and grinned at the wolf. "Not a chance in the world, Eric." Of course, she knew that Wanda had a thing for the Eric, but there's no reason at all to tell him that.
Eric sighed and clicked the massager on, rubbing it on his head.
"Why are you doing that?" asked Sheila.
"The real question is," said the Mike, half a grin on his face, "Why aren't you doing that?"
Sheila thought about it, and then said, "Because I don't have the massager."
The fox nodded. "Good point. Give the girl the vibrator."
The wolf tossed the still buzzing massager to Sheila. The thing was oddly shaped, with a main sphere in the middle, and three smaller bulbs below it in a triangular shape. The bulbs glowed purple. Sheila missed the catch, and the vibrator tumbled off her chest and in to her lap.
She gasped. She wasn't expecting one of the bulbs to land right on top of her crotch, sending vibrations straight down to somewhere very sensitive. She immediately lifted it out, feeling guilty that it felt good. Really good. She blushed and hopped the boys didn't notice.
"I hit level 49 last night, and I need an upgrade on my armor so bad," said the Eric to Mike.
Sheila let out a sigh and began massaging her head. It was surprisingly calming.
Her sister and her friends had gone, so Sheila knew she had the place to herself. Still, she scuttled down to her room, locked her door, and waited a few minutes for her heart beat to go down. She had the massager in her hands.
She had given it some thought as to how she was going to do it. She knew she didn't want to get it messy or anything, so she'd do it with her underwear on. She didn't want to be standing up, so the bed it was.
She stripped off her T and pajama bottoms, exposing her white cotton panties that matched the white patch on her belly. Laying on her back, she took a deep breath and pressed the 'on' button.
Sheila's hand reluctantly guided the massager down, not sure if she wanted to do this, but the closer the bulb got to her clit, the more she wanted it. The three prongs slid across her soft cotton panties like a skater on ice. When the bulb took a sudden turn downwards, she let out a quiet, breathy yelp, pulling the massager away.
It was intense... but it felt good.
She opened her legs a little wider, rubbing her free hand along the fur on her thigh reassuringly. Carefully the young kitten inched the massager closer and closer to her cub-slit, until she could feel the tremors of the vibration go through her and straight to her clit. She winced and bit her lip, faintly bucking her hips. Slightly lower, a small, moist, dark spot began to form on her panties. Her little chest rose and sunk as her breath picked up pace, and she let out a soft mewl.
It was too much - far too intense. She lifted it off of her crotch with a little disappointment, wishing that the massager had a lower setting.
She sat up, slightly frustrated, and more than a little horny, though she didn't quite know what that meant.
Maybe if she tried a different approach...
She lay back down, bringing the massager down and ran it along her panty-line, the vibrations going into her bone. She dragged it over her panties and placed it right on top of the now-dime sized moist spot, though she didn't know it was there. She gasped as the vibrations spread through her whole sex, making her toes curl and her stomach clench. The dark spot spread as she pressed the massager, nestling it between her folds. She lay there, holding it to herself, the other two bulbs now resting on her crotch, making a triangular frame around her clit. Her breath was on the edge of moaning as she instinctively began slowly rubbing it up and down her slit, spreading her juices into an oval shaped on her panties.
Her other hand stroked her belly, moving slowly up to her soft, pink nipple poking out of her dark fur. Simply running her fingers over it was enough to send a spark of pleasure through her, making her hips buck against the massager. It brushed her clit, and she yelped, a squirt of juice widening the stain on her panties. She felt drips trickle between her crack, but she didn't care - she was focused on rubbing the massager up and down her slit, with just enough pressure to half-burry the bulb between her lower lips, but not enough to penetrate her virgin sex.
Another brush of her fingers against her nipple sent another wave of pleasure, causing her to buck her hips again, and send yet another intense vibration directly to her clit. A gush of fluids flowed through her panties, trailing a path down, where it was absorbed back into her panties before it could reach the sheets of her bed. She was dimly aware that she was getting wet, feeling her fur get slick all down her bottom, and she was dimly aware that if she kept this up, she would get her bed wet, but she couldn't seem to focus enough on anything else but the massager.
With each rub, the massager came closer to her clit, and now a steady trickle of her liquids flowed down and around her crack. Her breath caught, and her arm jerked, pressing the massager directly on her clit. She moaned out, a gush of her fluids rushing down between her legs and soaking into the sheets.
She could feel something coming - something big. She held the massager on her clit and pressed down firmly. A second gush of fluids flowed out, followed by a third, and a fourth as her chest heaved. A small puddle of her juices was gathering around the valley made by her butt. And then, she came. She yelled out as a wave of pleasure, starting from her finger tips and her toes rushed to her cub-slit, and a stream of fluids broke free of her panties, soaking the sheets as far as a hand's length away from her sex, sprinkling the massager and her paw. She left the massager on her clit as she enjoyed the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Finally she clicked it off and let it drop between her legs, too exhausted to do much of anything. She rested there a while, her ass basting in her own juices. She gave her paw a small sniff, curiosity getting the better of her. It didn't smell too bad, for something that came out of there. She gave it a little lick, and regretted it - though not because it tasted bad. In fact, she enjoyed the taste, but she was unsure if she should, and felt a twinge of guilt as she took another lick. She decided that two licks were enough for curiosity.
A short catnap later, she awoke in a panic, not knowing what time it was, or who was home. The puddle around her bottom had all soaked in to her sheets and mattress, her panties were still soggy, and the vibrator had her smell on it.
"First thing first," she said, checking the clock. 4:30. The only person that might be home is her sister. She put on fresh undies, feeling a little gross underneath them, and put on some proper clothes. She checked around the house for her sister, but she wasn't there, so it was safe to move the sheets to the washer.
She sighed as she hopped in to the shower for a second time, regretting showering at the same time as the washing machine going off.
"Oh well," she sighed.
She thought about things while in the shower. Not only did she feel guilty for the taste, but she had a flash of her sister's friend, the fox, in her mind when she orgasmed. He was very nice, and cute, to boot, but he was her sister's friend, and that was that.
Also, she felt guilty about the massager. She had given it to her mother for mother's day, but now, since she had gotten it all wet, she had hidden it underneath her bed.
She also decided that she was going to 'accidentally spill' some of her perfume on the bed where the wet spot is. The stench would be overbearing for a few days, but it was better than having her mother come in and smell, well... whatever it was that came out of her.
She also decided that she was going to do it again, maybe even soon. But next time she would have towels underneath her...