Tom's Parallel World Pt. 01

Dear reader, this is a work of erotic adventure fiction, containing furry, anthropomorphic animals with human intelligence having sex with our human hero. If this isn't for you, please read one of my other stories.

All characters, furry or otherwise, are over eighteen.

This chapter introduces us to a parallel world that seems idyllic at first.

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Tom led with his eyes shut as came to his senses. His head hurt. This alcohol-free hangover was just like an alcohol-induced one, so bad that you're afraid to move as you know it will hurt.

What the fuck happened? He tried to remember what led up to last night's events.

His ex had screwed him over BIG time. He failed university spending time and money on her, so had dropped out after failing his third year. She got him a job working for her father, for him to find out later that he wasn't being paid the same as his co-workers.

Now he had nothing to his name except his tent and what was in his rucksack. Thank goodness he had avoided a shared bank account. Although she had begged him to share his money, "Because, he worked for her father." She had argued many times.

When he tried to save money, she'd gotten bored and preferred his best mate. He didn't know how long they'd deceived him, but once he'd caught them, it deteriorated fast. She left Tom to move in with his mate the same day because he had a car and earned more.

Then Tom lost the apartment. "There's no need for it to be in both our names," she had also said. Then her father mysteriously decided he needed to downsize his successful business, with only Tom losing his job. There was no way he was going to return to living with his elderly parents.

He had only meant to walk for a few days, to clear his head. That was weeks ago. Without the pressure of work or targets to achieve, he found the peace and tranquillity rewarding. As a result, once he reached the coast, he continued to follow it, wild camping, with the odd night in a campsite, to shower and shave.

He had met a few other walkers along the way. One pair of gorgeous female students were promising company, but they preferred each other.

Last night like every other night he found an isolated spot, off the coastal path, away from the cliff's edge. He'd pitched his small tent, one of the few things remaining from his failed relationship with that ex-bitch. Then overnight without warning, driving rain and a howling wind had blown up, causing the tent to flap and twist wildly.

But now, this morning led in his tent with his head aching badly he didn't want to move. He opened one eye to see that the tent had collapsed around him. The tent was warm and bathed in bright sunlight, which was encouraging. He opened the other eye, confirming the tent was down. He lifted his arms to raise the tent enough to find the zip and then tried to slide over, whilst still in his sleeping bag.

'Whaaaat?' He wasn't on hard ground any more. The floor of the tent wasn't supporting his weight. His bum dropped into a growing hollow beneath him, now sat on what felt like a patch of sticks poking at the sewn-in groundsheet. The same happened as soon as he leaned on his hands or elbows. He unzipped himself out of his sleeping bag as the ground beneath him was collapsing. He slid over to where the door should be to find the zip.

He leaned forward as he slid the zip open. The floor collapsed again, and he fell out, rather than crawled out of his tent, straight into a bush. After a small fight with thorns and branches, he stood to find himself in a thicket of bushes. Standing in his socks and boxers, looking at his tent perched on the top of the thicket of bushes.

"Whaaaaat?" He exclaimed. Where was the clearing from last night? That wind couldn't have blown the tent clear off the ground. Could it? With his head hurting as much as it was, he must have hit something when the tent flying around in the air. At least his head distracted him from his sore socked feet. His exit from his tent scratched his feet after being stabbed at by sticks and thorns. His feet were sore and still had a few thorns stuck in them.

He leaned back into his tent and dug out his boots. Then in an awkward balancing act, lifted the sorest of his feet and slipped his sock off, locating and removing each thorn. Now and then having to place the foot down on top of a boot to balance and avoid catching more thorns. He then cleaned one sock free from debris and more thorns. Replacing his sock and slipping on a boot, he could now stand on one leg, thorn free.

He then repeated the dance with his other foot, still not quite rocking the one-legged crane-like antics in his boxers. Finally, standing in both boots, he could gather his tent. He wrapped it up with belongings inside, into a huge loose tent ball. He held it over his head and climbed out of the bush thicket onto what should be a wide-open path that was there last night. But today it was a narrow path through the deep undergrowth.

He walked along the path until clear of the undergrowth to unravel his balled up tent at a wide flat grassy area, shaking it empty of his belongings. But he couldn't find his phone or watch. He double-checked the inside tent pockets where he would place them overnight, but all the pockets were empty.

He hoped there wouldn't be any walkers passing by this morning to see him, with wild camping being frowned upon. He'd been caught by disapproving walkers before whilst packing his tent away and standing in his boxers would give them something extra to tut about.

Whilst tanned, Tom's legs were lily-white above his knees. He didn't have an inch of fat on him after many weeks of walking. His blond beard and hair now direly needed trimming and was no tidier than the bush he had fallen into. This all added up to make him feel silly stood his full 5-foot 10-inch height in his grubby boxers and boots. So he pulled his baggy shorts up over his boots and slipped on a T-shirt.

He had left his camp stove and billy tin outside the tent last night to cool after heating a tiny meat pie. He walked a short distance, hunting up and down. But there was no evidence of last night's camping spot, no stove, no clearing, not even a flattened grass rectangle to show where he'd pitched his tent.

He ate what scraps he had left, crisps, cheese and something for his headache washed down with water. He packed everything into his rucksack and rolled his tent up, strapping it to his rucksack.

Ignoring his sore head, Tom Looking around and pondered on the day. The sea looked calm, with a light breeze and some clouds in the sky, but nothing hinting at the storm last night. Everything was very much like yesterday morning.

Whilst it looked familiar to where he camped last night, things didn't look or feel quite the same, but Tom put that down to his headache. Oh well, there is a cove a mile or two up ahead, with a village and pub, he'll feel better after some pub grub.

Tom lifting his rucksack onto his shoulders walked onwards, hoping the fresh air would clear his head a little. After a while, he came to a spur of land and a breeze brought the hint of a sweet aroma to his nose. Not an overpowering odour. Like a freshly baked pie's steaming aroma pulling a cartoon character along, it encouraged him onwards to round the bend in the path.

Walking around the spur, he began to feel a little light-headed. Ahead of him lower down he saw a row of cottages overlooking the path and cliffs, a cove extending out beyond, tucking inshore to a few houses. The land curved down and around onto a beach and then turned back out to sea, returning to high cliffs. The scene created a picture-perfect view of a Cornish fishing village, very twee, almost a postcard or biscuit tin lid image.

As he walked onward, the path now worked its way downhill. He smelled that sweet aroma again, stronger now, almost intoxicating. He could see a body stretched out in front of the closer cottage.

'Was it possible that this was the source of the nectar?' He thought.

As he walked closer, the body stretched out over the lawn sunbathing became more defined. It was lying facing away downhill towards the village and the sun. The body curved like no other, with legs tucked up underneath a nicely rounded arse.

Smooth and blending lovely curves flowed down the spine, arching along two arms outstretched in front with a white round head resting on the arms. Tom felt his blood rising, his head throbbed; as now did his penis. He brazenly stared at the body as he walked closer.

His vision was blurring, feeling somewhere between tipsy and drunk. He walked on, feeling as if a magnet were pulling him forwards. Blinking, the blurring eased, and he realised the beauty sunbathing was naked. Why not? With no one else around, well except for him. His blood rose, and he had to scratch his balls and adjust the crotch of his shorts to release his growing doubled up penis.

The shape was a gorgeous feminine form. The closer he got, the more he appreciated the beauty, the stronger the magnetic pull became and the more he wanted to dive in to celebrate this beauty. Tom had never felt like this before, lusting for gratification, but this was an unrecognisable, unknown stranger.

He was only a few short steps away now. She looked to be almost his height, curves showing a slim torso, swelling and relaxing as she breathed. Then a tail flicked from hiding behind her, from one side to the other, 'A TAIL!'

"What?" Tom gasped out loud and stopped short of her. The body's head immediately turned upon hearing him. The body sat up, getting up onto arms, the top half of the torso rotated round. He could now confirm she was a beautiful female form, with a pair of wonderfully rounded breasts.

She looked like a cat, but with a human-like face, without whiskers or an extended jaw snout. Her body flowed when she moved like a ballerina, or like a cat... Trying to convince himself of some explanation, he thought that 'She must be wearing a brilliant cat costume'.

But that didn't explain her tail. Then a breeze brushed by, ruffling her short fur along the length of her body and tail, causing her to shiver. Tom stood transfixed. How could she be a cat? She's nearly as tall as him. She was naked except for her fur. Tom blinked, rubbing his eyes that watered and drifted in and out of focus, not believing what he was seeing. This beauty was most definitely a cat, her triangular ears flicking and rotating with her tail flicks. Her luminescent green eyes were deep and inviting.

"Hi, sorry I didn't see you," she said breaking the spell.

"I... I... I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you," stammered Tom. Still not believing what his eyes were showing him and what his balls now ached for, his ramrod penis trying to burst out of his shorts. His desire for this vision went beyond attraction to sheer lust.

"Hi, I'm Sarah," she said. She raised herself higher as she extended a paw.

Tom stepped forward the last few feet to meet her, extended his hand to shake hers. He replied, "Hi, I'm Tom, pleased to meet you."

As they clasped hand to paw to shake, an electric-like shock ran through Tom to reach his balls that almost exploded in euphoria, and he gasped. Embarrassed by his excitement, he looked down at their hands. She didn't have cat paws, well not what you would expect, more hand than paw-like, with short fingers and a thumb, but no fingernails. Shocked, he recoiled as all what he saw dawned upon him.

Tom exclaimed brutally, "Thumbs, cats don't have opposable thumbs, you're as tall as I am, you spoke... You aren't supposed to talk... Nor have just one pair of tits!"

Her face and demeanour immediately changed, looking around, surprised, and almost terrified.

"Quick, come inside, has anyone seen you? Who else have you spoken to?" She asked in quick succession and peered around again, checking to see if anyone else was around.

In one fluid movement, she stood on her rear legs and pulled him to the cottage behind, through the low door, so low that they both had to duck. Before she closed the door behind him, she dropped onto all fours and looked back outside, looking all around, checking to be sure no one had seen them.

"Good grief, in all the years I've lived here, I assumed these were fisherdog stories. Fairy tales they made up to scare puppies and kittens." She exclaimed, "You have to be careful. Such talk could get you into a lot of trouble. The dogs in the village would tear you apart if they even thought you had said that. There are stories of them feeding blaspheming humans to the mermaids." Sarah paused, still in shock.

'Cats, dogs, puppies, kittens and now mermaids,' thought Tom still shocked and now panicking, 'I knew Cornwall was isolated but this?'

Sarah continued, but talking almost in a slow whisper, "Tom, where you come from... Are dogs and cats pets?"

Stunned, Tom confirmed with a nod, yes.

"Never, ever, but never say such a thing. There are stories of humans repeating this, and they are never seen again. These are dangerous words, even said in private," instructed Sarah.

"B, b, b... But, you have seen humans before?" Asked Tom, stammering in shock.

"Yes, we all live together, in harmony in this world. I say this world because if these stories are true, you are not from this world," Replied Sarah, in a serious tone.

"You walked along the cliff path? Did you stop overnight between here and Church Cove?"

"Yes, I wild camped in-between, on the clifftop coastal path. Last night a storm whipped up out of the blue. I woke with a thumping headache and still inside my collapsed tent, but now perched on top of a bush," replied Tom.

"So the stories are true? Every spring and autumn we have storms localised, between here and Church Cove village, west of here. The fisherdogs warn people not to stay out after dark on the coastal path."

Sarah moved around the room as she spoke, checking the windows for unseen prying eyes and pulling net curtains closed.

"There are tales that once every seven years or so a human appears during the largest of these storms. The ones that appear go mad, not understanding their new situation. Once one went mad and jumped off a cliff into a raging sea and rocks beneath. Some rage about pets, neutering and castrating. The fisher dogs take them out to sea, and they are never heard of again. They are never talked about. I thought it was all hearsay, fable, fantasy... We are on dangerous ground," said Sarah.

Tom felt dizzy, his head spinning. Despite that, his crotch throbbed. How could it, she's a cat? He kept admiring this beautiful creature in front of him. As she spoke, he could see every change of expression. Her fur moving, flowing around her body movements, he found it intoxicating and making him horny. Her tail swished and curled, being the sexiest thing ever.

He had never felt such wanton lust. He strained to see her breasts and between her lower legs at every opportunity, still smelling that sweet aroma overpowering him, wanting to bathe in her, in that smell. His knees felt weak, with all the blood pulsing around his crotch, balls aching, penis throbbing. It was all he could do to remain standing up.

Sarah saw him turn pale, and she hastened over to him. "Are you ok? Take off that rucksack and sit down, you look dizzy." She pointed at one of the woven basket seats. There was one in each corner with backrests and thick cushions, very retro. Tom dropped into the nearest one, very comfy, larger than a normal seat.

'More for curling up in,' He thought.

"In answer to your question. Yes, we've seen humans before. In this world, Four families of mammals evolved opposable thumbs. Felidae (comprising cat species), Canidae (comprising dogs), Mustelidae (comprising badgers, weasels, ferrets) and of course you humans. There are exceptions, but that is the general rule. We all evolved together and after a few problems back in the dark ages, we all live in harmony. Yes, I can speak. Like you, I enjoy sex for pleasure and typically cats only have a few siblings, hence only one pair of breasts. I am unusual being single with 3 kittens as triplets."

Sarah stressed this by rising on her rear legs, opening her front legs, puffing her chest out proudly showing her white underbelly. This exaggerating her two fur-clad rounded breasts, which were neither small nor too large, possibly a B cup, had she worn a bra.

Tom's eyes nearly burst out of his head on stalks. Something caused testosterone to pump wildly through him. If his dick could have, it would have unzipped itself from his shorts as it was bursting, pushing hard at the seams.

Being this close, his eyes could now confirm Sarah was a white cat, but with light beige coloured tiger stripes, which explained why he thought she was a naked human early on. Her underbelly, tail, and ears remained plain white. Her eyes were hypnotic, definitely cat's eyes and luminescent green. His blood pumped through him hard enough for him to feel his heart throbbing around his head as sweat beaded on his brow.

"This is a lot for you to take in. You look hot, flushed, can get you a drink? I have milk, but I would expect you want something I don't have, like tea or coffee, I'm sorry," Sarah apologised.

"It's ok, water would be ok. Thanks, you're too kind. I'm sorry I am being so goofy and for being so rude to you outside. You know, about your tits... Er, sorry... Breasts and all, but it was a shock... And this is a lot to take in." Tom said, his head still aching and his vision blurring.

Sarah smiled. "That's fine, and it's to be expected. But it is better that you met me rather than a pack of pitchfork carrying dogs. But I'm nervous too, as I don't know what kind of world you come from."

Tom watched her body move in silky, erotic movements as she turned, dropping back onto all fours. She almost doubling back on herself and slinked towards a low doorway behind her, showing Tom her lovely round rump. Her tail rose and flicked erotically as she walked, giving Tom a glimpse of both her rear cat's eye and pussy. Can he say that now?.

Not being a cat lover, he was in uncharted territory. Back home he was allergic to cats, but this was different, a more powerful opposite, an attraction completely unexpectedly. It magnetised him to her sexuality, unable to take his eyes off her.

This was more powerful than that night he joined friends in a gentleman's club and he couldn't take his eyes off the pole dancers. Tom's eyes followed Sarah as she slinked through the low doorway behind her, leaving him with a pang of emptiness as she disappeared out of sight, but his head cleared slightly.

Tom tried to absorb all this information. This was a lot to take in, so he thought to start small. The room was small, so he looked around the room. It was average lounge size, with a large bay window overlooking the ocean. It contained four chairs at the corners, a wooden table in the centre, a fireplace, but no TV.

He could be in a cottage anywhere. Out the window, the view was as normal as before, with no indications of being on a new world. This was nothing like Star Trek, Star Wars or any other Sci-Fi film he had ever seen.

Tom admired her slinking form as Sarah returned just as smoothly as she left, with a glass of water in one paw, returning on 3 legs as easily as 4. Her re-appearance also brought the wave of desire back with her, the emptiness filled with lust and his head throbbed again. Once she was through the low doorway, from what must be the kitchen, she rose to walk on her rear two legs. Like a human, but smoother, ballerina-like, the higher room ceiling allowing for this.

He was close to submitting to his basic overpowering desire to pull his shaft out and wildly masturbate. He was swooning as his vision blurred again. Sarah pulled up another seat next to the table, to be closer to Tom, rather than being at the other side of the room. She sat there curled up, with her tail curling and flicking around behind her with a mind of its own.