It was Megan's first year on her own, in her own little one-bedroom apartment. She was a freshman living nearly three hundred miles from her parents. They paid her tuition, fees, and books, but her part-time job paid for her living expenses. Well, almost paid for her living expenses. She was lucky, she felt, to have some relatives in town who helped her move in and who could help her out when she needed it. Besides, Aunt Rose was her favorite aunt.
Rose was Megan's mother's sister, and had always been good to Megan. Nice presents for birthdays and Christmases, dinners out, even some trips to interesting places, and, now, dinners and sometimes cash to help make ends meet- this was how Aunt Rose treated Meagan. In turn, Meagan really admired her aunt. Rose was a full professor at the university, well-published and well-respected. A remarkable woman, Meagan always felt, but what Meagan found most remarkable about Rose was her choice of husband. Uncle Henry was mostly ill-mannered and uncouth, a college drop-out, and barely able to keep a minimum wage job. A real pervert, too, never missing a chance at a sexual reference and constantly leering at women. Meagan could hardly put up with him, and was amazed that Rose actually seemed to be in love with him.
Meagan had dinner at her aunt's place every Thursday evening, and Uncle Henry always insisted she sit opposite him. She always refused, ceding the place to her aunt, and sitting on the side of the table. She knew Henry wanted her there for him to ogle, and she didn't want that to ruin her dinner and her visit. It was bad enough having to kiss him hello and goodbye, not for the peck on the cheek, of course, but for his roaming hands when he gave her a hug with the kiss.
She had spoken to her aunt about that, but Rose shrugged it off. "It's just the way Henry is," she said, "don't take any offence," so Meagan stopped complaining and tried her best to ignore it.
Thursdays had taken on a bit of a routine: she'd have dinner, chat for a while with her aunt, and then leave with a casserole dish of leftovers after a kiss and a squeeze of her bum by Henry. Meagan really appreciated the "leftovers;" she knew Aunt Rose made a lot extra so she could take it home and have a couple more free dinners. She'd wash the casserole when she finished the food, and bring it back the following Thursday.
This Thursday was a bit different, however. Not the food, but Uncle Henry. He was particularly suggestive in his banter, avidly undressed Meagan with his eyes, and had a bulge in his pants bigger than Meagan would have ever thought possible. And Meagan did notice it. She tried to ignore it, but her eyes kept finding their way to Uncle Henry's crotch. She hoped neither Henry nor Rose would notice that she noticed, and maybe they didn't, since neither acted as if they did. But when she was leaving, Henry gave his "favorite niece" a big hug with his little kiss. A real big hug. Held her tight, and she could feel that bulge of his press into her abdomen, hard and hot. She blushed as she pecked him on the cheek and hurried on her way home.
She tried to get his bulge out of her mind, but she kept seeing it. Just the bulge, really; she didn't at all imagine the thing that made the bulge. At least not until she went to sleep.
It was on her mind when she slipped into bed, wearing her usual bedclothes - just a pair of bikini panties - and it might have been the reason her nipples were erect. After all, she didn't feel chilly at all, quite the contrary. But it was definitely the basis of her dream. More of a nightmare, actually.
Meagan dreamed she was at her aunt's house for dinner, and Uncle Henry was there with his pants bulging at the crotch. This time, she had to sit opposite him, and, sure enough, he was ogling her like she'd never been ogled before. His pants were almost stretched to bursting as he sat, and Meagan realized the table had a glass top. As Aunt Rose served them their plates and took a seat to the side, she could see the bulge in Henry's pants start to twist and squirm. Her eyes were transfixed at the life of its own the bulge had taken on, and she gasped as her uncle's pants tore open and the bulge burst out.
It was an enormous, swollen, throbbing penis, with a face, similar to Uncle Henry's, and leering at her. She tried to get up, but she was frozen to her chair. She could only watch helplessly as Henry's penis squirmed out of his pants and down his leg. It started across the floor, then, like an enormous, swollen, throbbing inchworm, it headed straight toward her.
She managed a little cry for help from her aunt, but Rose only said, "It's just the way Henry is; don't take any offence."
The organ reached her leg, and looked lasciviously at her. "God, it's undressing me with it's eyes," she thought in her dream, and as she did, her skirt and panties dissolved into mist.
It began climbing her legs, and she squeezed them closed as hard as she could. It was on her lap, now, and had swollen as long and as thick as her lower leg. A bit of liquid oozed from it's leering orifice, and it started burrowing between her thighs, the liquid lubricating its path. As it reached her labia and began to forcibly squirm its way in, Meagan awoke.
She was trembling and soaked in sweat, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. It hadn't been her intent, but the fright, and the nature, of the dream seemed to have affected her, and she found her fingers playing with her pussy.
"What the fuck am I doing?" she asked herself out loud, and then decided to finish masturbating. "It'll relax me so I can get back to sleep," she told herself.
The memory of the dream was with her for the whole weekend, and she played with herself each night to prevent a recurrence of the dream. It may have helped; she didn't have that dream again, and the ones she did have were about men she did like, men with normal penises, ones that didn't crawl along the floor to get her. During the day, though, she'd still occasionally have that image - that memory - of Uncle Henry's bulging crotch, and each time she found herself trying to fight her feelings of arousal.
Rose was on her way to lecture on Monday morning when she realized that the meal she'd planned for that night required the casserole dish that Meagan had.
"Henry," she called to the bedroom as she was leaving, "could you drop by Meagan's place today and get my dish back? I need it tonight."
"Sure," Henry responded, "but won't she be in class?"
"Not today. She doesn't have any classes on Mondays."
Meagan was studying at her desk, still in the panties she used as pyjamas, when her doorbell rang. It was about eleven o'clock, and she wasn't expecting anyone. She quickly threw on her satin robe and went to the door.
"Uncle Henry!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. Rose just needs that dish you have. She asked me to stop by and get it."
Meagan invited him in and fetched the casserole.
"Here you are," she said, handing him the dish and hoping he'd leave.
"Thank you," he said, and looked her up and down. Meagan became uncomfortably aware of how the robe clung to her body.
"You could use a bit of meat on your bones, kid," he continued, "looks like Rose's dinners are all you eat." He emphasized his point by pinching her ass.
"Let me take you out for a good lunch," he added.
Meagan declined, but Henry was insistent. Finally, she agreed. "Just wait a minute while I get dressed."
