Sheebas Cat Therapy

I shook the last few drops of digested beer off the end of my penis and looked over at the litter box again. Against the wall between the toilet and vanity sat a low-sided, litter-filled, plastic tray that must have been about four feet in length. The granules looked slightly used, but instead of paw prints on the surface, there were large indentations and scuff marks. As I moved over to the sink to wash my hands, I also noticed that a single, long, black hair lay curled up in the corner of the tray.

Returning to the living room, I puzzled over the strange dimensions of the cat facility. "Hey, Bri," I called out, passing through towards the kitchen, "Regular or light?" My buddy Brian, who I used to work with until I changed jobs, could afford to lose a pound or two. He probably should have been the one getting off his butt to fetch the beers instead of sprawling in his leather recliner, but I knew he was glued to the ice hockey game on TV.

"Regular, Harv," he answered recumbently, "Are you suggesting I need to watch my girlish figure?"

I returned from the kitchen and brought him his beer. "So what's with the litter box?" I asked.

"That's for Sheeba, our cat."

I crossed over to the couch and sat down. "What've you got – a mountain lion?"

"Ah ha-ha ha-ha ha-ha," he guffawed, "No."

"No really, Bri," I pressed, "It's as big ..."

"YESSS!!" He sat up with a jolt, causing the recliner's footrest to slam shut. I looked over at the TV to catch the replay.

From the kitchen, the sound of a creaking screen door announced someone's arrival. Brian and Karen had one of those houses where everyone came to the back door even though the front one worked just fine.

"Bri!!" yelled the visitor. It was Karen. "Can't you park any closer to the garage, Hon?" The crumpling of paper bags told me that she had just returned from grocery shopping, but the accompanying sound of sliding and scurrying on the kitchen floor had me stumped. "I'm almost half out on the street."

Struggling with the zipper on her jacket, Karen entered the living room. "Har-vey!!" she screamed in pleasant surprise when she caught sight of me.

"Harvey's here," Brian pointed out without looking away from the TV or considering the need for the observation.

"I can see that," she answered as she kneeled on the couch and threw her arms around me.

Karen is not a stunning beauty, but she would be a very distracting girl-next-door. She has a narrow face, wears thin glasses and typically pulls her shoulder-length blonde hair back into a pony-tail. Sometimes she looked like Helen Hunt to me. And just below the surface was something sultry and wild that would peek through from time to time but never fully revealed itself. She was definitely a better catch than Brian deserved, but the two of them joked around a lot and made a good team.

She gave me a welcome kiss on the mouth that was softer and longer than it probably should have been. I felt kind of guilty about enjoying it so much, and then she gave me a second one. Karen tended to be expressive like that, and I figured that Brian, in full confidence of their relationship, would just ignore us. Nevertheless, when I heard a noise at my feet, I wondered for a moment if he was standing at the couch glowering down at us, but I dismissed the idea. The sound was more like a heavy padding or creeping noise that moved across our front. Was it Sheeba? I wanted to look, but Karen's face blocked my view as she toyed with my lips, and then, the movement disappeared into the hallway.

"You're gonna stay the night, aren't you?" Karen said, coming up for air and finally taking off her jacket.

"No," I responded, "Brian told me you've got a guest named Sheila staying with you now, and I don't want to be an added burden."

"Harvey's staying the night," Brian said off-handedly, continuing to fix his attention on the screen.

"Oh, it's no bother! You're staying. It's decided, but ... I don't know where Brian's going to sleep," Karen flirted.

"Yeah right!" Brian scoffed, leaning back more in his chair. "Ah ha-ha ha-ha ha-ha ..."

"Let me just go put some linen on your bed," Karen said, getting up off the couch. "It's so good to see you again. ... Brian, could you go put the groceries away for me?"

"Yep," Brian replied but remained in place.

Karen threw her coat over at Brian, who let it slide off him onto the far side of the chair, and then she walked towards the bedrooms. In the hall, there was a sudden scurrying noise. "Oh! Sheeba," she cried, "You almost tripped me. Here ...," after which, a small wire-cage ball with a bell in it came tinkling into the room.

Quickly behind the ball pounced the large, dark figure of a ... a ... a girl on her hands and knees. A girl with long black hair and ... a tail ... and pointed ears! Sheeba? Surely not! It was definitely a girl. She was in her early 20s, and she was wearing a black Lycra bodysuit and studded leather collar. Scampering towards the ball, she swatted at her prey, causing first it to dingle under a sideboard and then her to lose interest.

"NO!" Brian yelled at the TV, "You idiots!"

The prowling cat girl turned her attention to the recliner. Her black, cat ears stood high on her head, and her black, semi-firm tail swept stiffly to and fro with her body's undulating movement. The suit fit closely on her like a second skin, allowing me to see clearly the athletic tensing of her muscles, the sculpted definition of her curves and the heavy sway of her breasts. Brian's hand dangled over the armrest, and the girl slid underneath it, making his fingers drag over the top of her head. Brian reacted by petting a few strokes along her back without looking.

"Um, Brian," I queried, somewhat dumbfounded, "What's going on?"

Now that I had a closer look at the feline figure, I could see that the tail and ears were costume accessories and that the bodysuit was actually a matching long-sleeve undershirt and pair of stretch pants. The skin-tight material clung uncompromisingly to her wonderfully round and full breasts and to her equally round and tight ass, revealing every detail.

"Oh, the Bruins got called for too many men on the ice," Brian responded to the question he thought that I had asked him. "They just screwed up their man advantage."

The cat girl finished rubbing up against the side of his chair and turned toward me. Her eyes locked onto me as if I were prey. As human as she seemed to be, there was nothing human about that stare. She had me fixed; I had been cut from the herd. She stalked across the floor in my direction, her hands reaching out alternately for firm purchase, her body swaying in behind and her head locked onto her gaze.

When I finally got a good look at her face, I was stunned – she was gorgeous. She had a round, youthful face with an innocently small nose and a distractingly pouty mouth. She reminded me of Katie Holmes or maybe Rose McGowan – partly childlike, partly smouldering. And those eyes ... those piercing eyes ...

"No, I mean the ... er ... your ...," I stammered, unnerved by the threatening, unblinking approach of my stalker. I felt a cold, pulling sensation in my balls, like when I know I'm about to get yelled at.

At the couch, she broke off her attack and weaved between my legs, rubbing her sides against the back of one calf and the front of the other shin. Circling back, she manoeuvred between my spread knees and sat back on her haunches, looking up at me. She had a cherubic face ... with a devilish look! Her stare was penetrating.

She jerked her body up and placed her hands ... her forepaws? ... on the top of my thighs. Slowly stretching her body forward, she pushed her nose towards my face, sniffing as she approached. In the stretch, her nipples poked firmly under her stretchy top.

Her eyes had a quizzical look to them, as if she were trying to size me up. With that look and her nails digging into my thighs, I almost believed that I had a real cat on my lap, and by reflex, I reached around and ran my hand along the back of her hair ... petting her. What was I doing? ... What was she doing?

The cat girl sprang her lower body up, resting her knees on the seat cushion between my legs and impaling her foreclaws – I mean her fingernails – into my upper chest. Her momentum forced me back in my seat. She pressed her cheek along the side of my jaw and then rubbed her face towards my ear. Her smooth, tender skin felt cool and silky. I froze, not knowing what to do.

As her cheek grazed the side of my face, she kept making a low humming sound near my ear. She was purring! "Hrrrr ... hrrrr ... hrrrr ..." A thin trail of saliva escaped the corner of her mouth and wet my cheek.

Karen returned from her chores. "Shee-ba!" she scolded my mauler and then crossed to sit beside me on the couch again. "Boy! She's really taken to you," she observed, "She's usually pretty shy. Sheeba, come here." She patted her own lap.

*** Grooming Sheeba ***

Sheeba dropped down from my chest and manoeuvred her way over to Karen. Her upright tail slid ticklishly under my jaw. "Yeow, yeow," she called out plaintively. "Yes, I know," Karen responded comfortingly, holding Sheeba's face in her hands and rubbing her jowls, "You're hot, aren't you?"

"Hon?" she called out to her husband, "Could you pass me the hairbrush?" But he remained rivetted to the game. "Yes! ... Yes! ... YES!!" he cheered at the TV.

Karen grasped the bottom of Sheeba's shirt and began to lift it up. "Harvey," she turned to me, "Would you be a dear? It's over on his end table." She then lifted the shirt entirely over the girl's head. I stood up obediently but was transfixed by the scene. Two supple, creamy, very supple, full, wonderfully supple breasts sprang out from underneath the shirt and bounced onto the girl's chest. Karen pulled the long train of black hair through the neck opening, and then the cat girl flopped her back down on my vacated seat. I went to fetch the hairbrush and returned to see her arms cocked up on the sides of her chest and her breasts pointing invitingly up at me.

Karen pulled off her tights. Underneath, the girl had on a pair of black crotchless panties and ... and ... nothing else. The fluffy black strands of her small patch of pubic hair looked wispy soft, appropriately fur-like and innocently exposed. I thought about looking away, but everybody else seemed unperturbed by the whole scene, so I just watched in amazement and handed the hairbrush to Karen.

Sheeba got up, circled on Karen's lap and lay chest-down facing me. I sat back down, and Karen slowly brushed the girl's long, silky hair. I still couldn't believe what I was seeing, and I was getting very turned on by the sight of this beautiful, naked, feral girl.

I glanced down to get a better look at her tail – the costume one, not the fleshy one ... not the soft, full, caressable ... Uh ... Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the tail was attached to the back of the panties, just above ... just above the two delicate, squishy mounds of her inviting bum. I wanted to reach out and run my hand along her ... Gawd!! My mind was straying dangerously. What in the heck was going on here? "Karen," I asked finally, "Why is she ... uh ... acting this way?"

Sheeba stretched out her face to my hand, which was resting on the seat between us, and licked the back of it. I was shocked but didn't pull my hand away. She lifted her mouth over and licked my palm fervently. ... What a feeling! The tingles shot up my arm and down my spine. Her tongue was wet and rough, and it felt like she was trying to remove my top layer of skin.

Karen tickled the girl behind one of her real ears. "Ooooh, she's just acting this way," Karen cooed, "Because she wants attention. ... Don't you, Sheeba? Don't you?"

The girl flipped onto her back and batted defensively at Karen's tickling hands. Karen changed to stroking her stomach, and Sheeba stretched out in enjoyment. "Here," Karen said, grabbing my hand and stroking it down the front of her body, "She likes her front rubbed." I was shocked because, under Karen's guidance, my hand was not avoiding the girl's breasts ... her soft breasts ... her mushy yet firm mounds ... her ... Boy, this was arousing ... but creepy.

"Don't be shy, Harvey," Karen encouraged me, "If she doesn't like it, she'll move." She continued to guide my hand all over her front. Her hard nipples felt like little gumdrops in my palms as my hands passed over her butter-soft breasts. I could hear the girl purring in my lap.

Karen reached over beside the couch, picked up a squat tin and pried off its top. The tin contained a type of white ointment. She pushed it my way and said, "Here, put some of this on your fingertips."

I dragged my fingers through the greasy salve and scooped out a small glob. Karen replaced the top and returned the tin to where she had gotten it. Then Sheeba spread her legs. "Oh!" Karen exclaimed, "She must really trust you. I've never seen her act this way with a stranger before. Brian, have you seen this?" "Huh?" was the only response.

Karen pulled my hand down to her vagina. It was warm and pliable and very wet. The soft hair felt slick in my fingers, and her little lips spread and conformed to my touch. I applied the ointment gently on the soft, yielding exterior of her vagina. "That's it," Karen coached, "She's likes it just like that. Nice and gentle. She's had a rough time down there, and she needs some soothing. ... Don't you Sheeba?" I felt very, very creepy about what I was doing ... and yet very, very aroused. I found it odd that Karen and Brian were condoning this. I almost started to giggle.

I swirled my fingers around in small circles on her lower lips. The moist little mounds squished around with my revolutions, making wet little smicking and smacking sounds as they opened and closed with the movement. Karen pressed two of my fingers through Sheeba's slit into her warm, wet interior. "In here as well," she instructed me. As I slid my fingers smoothly inside, Sheeba elongated her body into a long, quivering stretch, and her vaginal muscles gripped firmly onto my fingers.

All of a sudden, the girl jumped up onto her hands and knees and nuzzled into me. Her head went under my chin, causing her hair to brush across my throat and a stiff, costume, cat ear to slash at my Adam's apple. Then, she kneeled on my lap again and placed her hands on my shoulders. She moved her head forward, and I braced myself to be nuzzled like before, but this time, I felt something wet on my earlobe. She was licking me!?!

Her tongue darted up and down along my cheek then under my jaw and down my neck. The wet residue of her licking felt cool where she had been, but the touch of her tongue felt warm where she was. Lick and lick and lick. A few spots on my neck that she attended tickled intensely and made me squirm.

Her tongue crested my chin and landed on my mouth. It flitted along my lips, occasionally separating and penetrating them. Her tongue became a staccato probe. I could feel and hear her breathing, and I overheard Karen whispering urgently, "Brian ... Brian ... Look."

Sheeba sped up her work – lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, ... I gave in. Unable to resist her assault, I opened my mouth to her ministrations. Her tongue darted in and out of my open mouth a few times ... and then she stopped. She swung down from my face and crawled off my lap, but before she left, she thrust her ass up into my face. ... Was it an insult? Had I offended her? Maybe I shouldn't have opened my mouth. Her tail just missed hitting me in the nose. Looking down, I could see the little pink pucker of her anus.

"Oooo," Karen exclaimed, "She really does like you. She was just presenting."

"Presenting? What does that mean?" I asked. Sheeba jumped down from the couch and swayed seductively off into the hallway.

"Well, if you were a male cat," Karen explained, "You'd be having the time of your life tonight." Brian, who I then realized was smirking at me, gave me a wink and turned back to the TV.

"Brian, are you going to watch that stupid game all night?" Karen demanded.

"Huh?" Brian responded without looking.

Karen sighed in exasperation and stood up. "I guess I'm going to have to go and change," Karen said to me, "into something more attention-grabbing THAN A FROZEN BOXING MATCH!"

Karen's raised voice had no effect. "Huh?" Brian responded, absently.

Karen shrugged her shoulders and placed a knee back down on the couch beside me. Leaning over my face, she said coyly, "Well, at least I've got your attention." She then gave me another long, soft kiss. "I was getting jealous watching Sheeba cozy up to you," she whispered into my ear and reached a hand down to my crotch. "Mmmm. I think you're doing your own kind of presenting." She squeezed my erection firmly through my pants. "Is this for her or for me?" she asked with a pout, but before I could say anything, she gave me a quick kiss and left.

*** Understanding Sheeba ***

I sat for a moment in stunned silence. I was somewhat used to Karen's impish, teasing advances, but I couldn't remember her ever feeling me up before, and I was completely bewildered by the cat girl in heat. My thoughts swung wildly between adultery and bestiality. This was turning out to be quite the visit.

"Brian," I said jumping up, "I need you in the kitchen!" I figured that the only way I could have an intelligent dialogue with him was to get him away from the game.

"What?" Brian sniffed, annoyed at my timing.

"Now!" I ordered and walked into the next room.

Brian groaned, extracting himself from the comfortable embrace of his chair, and sauntered slowly over to the refrigerator to resupply his beer.

"What the frig is going on?!" I asked impatiently.

"Oh, that was nothing," Brian replied, twisting off the beer cap, "Karen's just happy to see you again. You know she can get touchy-feely sometimes. I don't mind."

"Nooo!! I mean with the cat ... or the girl ... or the cat girl ... or, you know, with Sheeba!"

"Oh, with Sheeba. Well, Sheeba is Sheila's cat persona."

I waited, but no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming. "And?"

"And it's all this therapy we've got her into. Feline restor ... Wait a minute." Brian put his beer down on the kitchen table and picked up a letter off the top of the refrigerator. "Here it is," he continued, reading from the letter, " 'Feline esteem restoration auto-corrective learning therapy' or some such thing. Anyways, it's called Cat-tharsis, which I thought was a pretty cute name. Cat-tharsis, ha ha ha ha ha ..."

"What in the heck are you talking about?"

Brian grabbed his beer, took a swig and leaned back on the counter, moving one of the untouched grocery bags out of the way. "Sheila is a run-away who we took in. Poor girl, she has lived a very abused life. When we found her, she had just gotten out of her second abusive relationship. It had been really bad. The guy used to ... well, I won't get into it, but when we rescued her, her self-esteem was rock bottom. So we decided to take her to a shrink." Brian took another drink of his beer.

"The shrink said that, because Sheila was so fond of cats, we should try out this new therapy – this Cat-tharsis thing. The doc said, ..." Brian referred back to the letter and changed his voice into a mock academic tone, presumably mimicking the psychologist, " 'Through her cat persona, she will be able to dissociate herself from her abused identity and rebuild her ego from the safety of her cat role-playing persona. She will identify with the dignity and independence that she reveres in cats, and in the process, she will learn again to respect her body image and embrace her full sexuality. In time, she will re-integrate her re-acquired self-esteem and ego-defence mechanisms into her normal persona, and her feline guardian personality will be subsumed.' "