When the Tiger Awakens

Was that her fingers now, stroking her breast and teasing the tip so that it tingled sharply and grew hard? Vaguely, she realized that she was panting, writhing and lolling, pressing herself against the stuffed animal in a way that could no longer be called decent and demure. Her pussy contracted hungrily, and the fullness of her breasts virtually whimpered for more contact, for touch, for stimulation.

"If you keep this up, you'll slobber all over my fur," a deep, rolling voice reached her ear. Actually a sonorous rumble, as if from a well-educated avalanche of stones. Still, easy to understand.

"Huh?"

She arched back and pushed the blanket aside. The tiger had turned its head and was looking into her eyes at close range. The implied smile on its muzzle had taken on a suggestive hint. The eyes shimmered in the reflection of the residual light.

Christine had to laugh. How lovely! Now she was already dreaming about her new roommate. Well, why not? She liked her dreams. Most of the ones she could remember later, were of the pleasant, indulgent variety.

"Hi, Tony," she giggled, nuzzling his neck. The rumbling intensified. So that's what it sounded like when a tiger purred.

"Tony?" The animal tilted its head. "Who's Tony?"

"Well, you. Aren't you?"

"No! My name is Hobo. Actually, my name is Hobbesito, but you can use the short form, it's easier."

"Hobbesito, I see." She laughed brightly. "Well, that's cute. Uh - you wouldn't happen to be related to Hobbes. The Hobbes of Calvin & Hobbes?"

"Who?" Funny, when tigers are frowing.

"Oh, never mind. Welcome to my home, anyway."

"Thank you." He brought his head forward and sniffed first her face, then her neck. That tickled, and she had to laugh again. Such a nice dream!

"You smell like an overripe fruit," the tiger said in his rumbling voice, and she gasped as a rough tongue brushed across her throat. "It's been a while since you've had sex, no?"

"I never have." She shivered under this treatment, enjoying the goosebumps that spread up her arms.

"Never? Really?" A paw half wrapped around her. "I guess that explains why your twat is already overflowing."

Christine chuckled. She would have turned bright red and sunk to the ground in shame if anyone had said something like that to her. But in a dream, brought forward by a cuddly toy, she could accept it without problems. It was, after all, her own mind saying it. Apparently, it also contained a suggestive part. How exciting - she had always thought she couldn't joke about erotic things as casually as everyone else.

"You're so soft, Hobo," she sighed, wrapping her arms and legs around the warm animal. "This is nice..."

"You're soft, too. That's nice, also," it purred against her ear. The tiger stretched its limbs and pulled her close. Heavy legs around her body, broad paws on her skin. The treads didn't feel fluffy, but like leather, almost a little scratchy. But it triggered its own appeal as they brushed along her side.

The tiger went down her front and she stretched with pleasure, letting it happen. When Hobo pulled up the nightgown with his nose, she reached for it and stripped it off. Completely naked in bed! With a tiger! She gave a dirty giggle. Next, she let out a sharp gasp. Hobo had licked across her chest with a broad, wet tongue. That left a trail that tingled like stardust.

"Pretty big, huh?" His nose nudged the other tit and stroked the nipple. Ah, that feeling!

"I like it big," she explained to the animal, scratching his head behind his ears. That way she could pull him closer, too. So good, this sniffing and licking.

"Me too."

"AHH!"

The tiger had rolled half on top of her and was now licking her systematically. His tongue ran around the shape of her breasts like the hand of a world-class masseur, a delicate sanding on her skin. Each time he touched the buds throbbing with arousal, electric sparks shot through her body. And when he opened his mouth, took the left breast all the way in and pressed his teeth playfully into her skin from all sides, she shuddered all over and moaned so utterly lustful that all her own hairs stood up.

Funny, a half thought flickered through her head. I can express to Hobo that I actually like my breasts. But it's probably obvious. This is a dream, it's not real. Does my subconscious want to tell me something there?

The tiger pushed a hind leg between her thighs. She opened her groin for him and groaned chokingly when the paw pressed on her heated pussy. Involuntarily, she gave counter-pressure and rubbed against it in small circles. Burning gasoline trickled through her nerves.

"You seem to want more from me," he purred, tongue laying across her hanging throat. "Or should I say, to need more from me?"

"Did...uh! Did Dixie also...ahhh...need it...from you?"

"Dixie?" The tiger raised his head. "Who's that?"

"You don't remember your previous owner?"

"A tiger has no owner," he explained, apparently slightly piqued. "At most, he has mates. Everything else is prey."

"Aha."

"However, tigers also have pretty poor memories. We like it better in the here and now." The head lowered and two fangs took a swollen nipple between them. Christine swallowed hard.

"So - am I your mate?" she replied, secretly delighted at this absurd conversation.

"Do you want to be my mate?" Now he was licking her navel. That tickled delightfully.

"Yes!" She pulled him to her, on top of her, a sweet burden, all fluffy and warm. "You're so soft and so sweet, Hobo. Let's be pals forever, shall we?"

"As you like."

Heavy paws closed around her. The scent was more distinct now. Stronger. Hay, but darker, mixed with musk. Her mouth literally watered. The paw was still on her pubic mound, squeezing rhythmically. Oh God, she could feel it pouring out of herself with desire.

Suddenly his mouth was at hers. She blinked, half torn out for a second. Then, hesitantly, she pursed her lips. A kiss? Not bad! At the lips, he was soft, too, but different. Fleshy-soft. She kissed him again. And again. Why not? A plush tiger didn't snatch prey and ergo couldn't have bad breath.

Right?

A rough tongue played against her mouth. She swallowed. Seriously now? But the sweet caresses and the now more insistent groping pressure against her pussy left no room for disengagement. She opened her lips and enchantedly noted how a broad tiger tongue penetrated the inside of her mouth and explored it, deep into her throat.

"NNNGHHH!"

Hobo tasted even better than he smelled! She opened her jaws as far as she could and swallowed, drank, tasted the dripping saliva of the animal she now clutched. Her head spun, washed away by the animalistic urges of her imagination. What did this say about her subconscious and her secret dreams?

But she would ponder that later. Now she had to lick the tiger's mouth, explore the row of teeth with the tip of her tongue, taste more of him, suck, lick, swallow, and...

"Uhh?"

Five hard claw tips, extended only millimeters from the fur sheaths, slid in slow motion down her backbone, from the nape of her neck to her tailbone. She shuddered and gasped hard. A real tiger could rip out her spine just as playfully. A stuffed animal, of course, could not. Still, the implied thrill of danger amplified the intensity of all the impressions like a burning glass.

A soft, dark laugh.

"My soft little mate likes that, huh?" the tiger murmured, now sounding almost like a caricature of a movie villain.

"You better believe it!" she managed to get out. Only to squeal helplessly. The tips of his back claws formed a semicircle over her vulva. The smell of the tiger almost stunned her now. The inside of her lungs seemed lined with a smoldering layer of pure pleasure. With each breath, it flared hotter inside her.

"Good! Because now I'm really going to have you. Tiger style."

Hobo shifted to the side and pushed his muzzle under her ribs. She knew what was coming now. Of course she knew - it was her own head, after all, that produced this whole scene.

No doubt about it: she wanted to be fucked by a tiger, secretly. A bold creature, animalistic and free. Yes, that had to be the thing! Hobo didn't care about conventions, about reservations, about fears. So hormones were tormenting him and he wanted to copulate with a female? Then he did so.

Could she also be such a free spirit?

With a quiver, she rolled over, onto her belly, spread her thighs and raised her butt a little. Immediately Hobo was over her and pressed a paw on her between the shoulders, pushing her deeper into the mattress. His body nestled against her bottom, between her legs. Soft, so soft - but now also with an unmistakable hunger in its movements.

"Are you ready, mate?"

"Yes!" she swallowed and pressed her forehead to the sheet. Was this really her, picturing this now?

"You know it can hurt, penetration? We tigers have little spikes on the front of our penises," his purr pulsed against her neck.

"Really?" She giggled. Was that true? Had she read that somewhere? Oh no - it was probably related to the fact that she was still a virgin.

Unbelievable! Deflowered by a tiger!

"Go for it!" Cocky, she thrust her backside at him. "Fuck me all over, my sweet Hobo tiger!"

"As you request."

A movement. A sliding, searching, and...

"AAAHHH!"

The tiger penis penetrated her. Thick and hard and raw. Not at all as cuddly as the rest. A sharp pain, and she was left breathless as the organ stretched her irresistibly, widening her in all directions.

"Oh, God..."

Only slowly did she realize that her animal lover had paused. She was pierced, stabbed by a club, on which she now hung helplessly, gasping and trembling. Incredible, this fullness, this hardness in her belly, this spasm with which her abdomen contracted convulsively. Terrifying in its power, its finality.

And exciting!

Hobo growled softly and began to thrust into her with ease. The rod, perceived to be the size of a baseball bat, slid back and forth, and the friction sent electric sparks burning through her flesh. Christine felt helpless, absolutely at his mercy, open to her core. And that was...so good!

"Mmmhhh!"

Her hips picked up the movement, completely automatically, and worked against it. The tiger penis bumped rhythmically against the end of her vagina, causing a sharp stimulus to jerk up each time. Were those the spikes? Tentatively, she pressed back harder. The stimulation reached the pain threshold. But she did not stop, she accelerated. She simply had to.

The tiger's purr had now turned into a grumble, sometimes punctuated with hissing sounds. He rammed her hard and fast, and she held her backside out to him, as wide and open and receptive as she could get. Ah, those thrusts, that heat! She gasped with her mouth wide open, every breath a moan, every movement an effort, but one that drove the lust further up. Her skin burned, her muscles trembled, her underbelly contracted with hunger.

Ahh!

The smell! Still there, but now it was like oil in which she was sinking. It filled her lungs, clogged them, her breath became more and more labored, more and more addicted. Yes, yes, yes! She was almost there. A female, driven by animalistic carnality, by blind greed for the peak, for redemption, for the final evaporation into ecstasy...

Hobo hissed and rammed his tiger cock into her with full force. She groaned and writhed lustfully, on fire. Ah, soon, soon! This sucking and pulling in her lower body, the pounding of the pulse, the heat, the sweat, so good, but she wasn't ready yet, something was still missing, still...

"Ah, my little prey-soft partner," he snorted against her ear. "You know how we felines like to finish the game?"

"Uhh...nnnghhh...no...ahh..."

"Like this!"

With that, he bit her roughly on the back of her neck.

Christine cried out, shrieking. The purposefully triggered pain, as clear and sharp as a burning icicle, drove through her bone and marrow.

She came. And came. And came. A monster of an orgasm rushed over her. A cyclone that drove all the air from her lungs. Her whole body jerked and spasmed and shook, wonderful and terrifying at the same time, an electrical arc between the steel rod of the tiger inside her and his teeth in her neck.

So fierce!

So absolutely divine!

Was it true? she asked herself. Was such a thing possible, in reality? Or did it represent a product of her overboiling imagination?

She fell into the swirling, black abyss before she could find an answer.

***

"Yaaahhh..."

Christine stretched with pleasure. Pleasure filled her down to the last cell. It was so nice and warm under the blanket, and the golden October sun outside illuminated the room, ignoring the drawn curtains.

Sunday, she remembered. Sleep in. No duties. Perfect! She could have a little...

An elbow bumped against something soft. She blinked. Hobo looked at her, like stuffed animals do: neutral and dispassonate. In reality, at least. Just that implied smile on the fabric.

"Good morning, sweetie!" She wuzzed his forehead and giggled bashfully as she remembered the dream. "Wild night, huh?"

With an embarrassed laugh, she squeezed her eyes shut. She could never, never, never tell that to even one other person. She dreamed of being deflowered by a stuffed animal? Apparently she needed it more than she thought. She had always had the impression that her sex drive was not as strong as that of many of her classmates. A little self-fondling now and then, in the bathtub or at night in bed, that had been quite enough for her.

And now? On the belly, in animal position? Taken from behind by a tiger? How sick was that? But she couldn't get the grin off her lips. Too wonderfully absurd, the whole thing. And too beautiful! Great that she could remember this dream so well. And the strange feelings that had filled her.

She noticed that she was naked under the blanket. Huh? Her hands ran over her breasts, her belly. Had she taken off her nightie in the dream? Yes, apparently. It lay on her right, half squeezed into the gap between the mattress and the headboard, completely crumpled. She wondered if she...

Something pressed against her right thigh. Something thick and hard was lying there on the mattress. She reached for it and pulled it out from under the covers. Stared at it, perplexed.

The dildo.

Red and thick. And - wet?

Christine shook her head. Impossible! How had that thing gotten here? Had she picked it out of the closet while she slept? And --

She swallowed dryly. And flipped back the blanket. A few brown-red splashes adorned the light fabric. The sheet also. She moved to the side. More of it, a real smear. Where her butt had rested.

Stunned, she groped for her private parts. Touched the soft lips. Slippery liquid sat between them, trailing between her fingertips. She brought the stuff close to her eyes.

Whitish-transparent. And mixed with a dark red streak.

"Oh, my God!"

Panicked, she scrambled to her feet, looking at the mess on the sheet, one hand pressed to her lower belly. Inside, it throbbed gently in rhythm with her pulse. Pleasant, actually. But when she reached deeper and tentatively inserted a finger halfway, the echo of a soft pain rippled through her body.

"I don't believe it!" she breathed, pulling her finger out. There was no more blood, but thick ooze. Her eyes twitched around in alarm, searching. The closet door was open a crack. The plastic box of the dildo lay in front of the bed.

She laughed. Only once, because it sounded so spooky. Had she actually taken out the masturbation device in the night unconsciously and stuck it in? Deflowered herself with that thing? While she had done unspeakable things with the tiger, in her dreams? Shuddering, she backed away from the stuffed animal.

"Now slow down!" she muttered and pulled herself together. Wanting to live alone, but getting scared of a stuffed animal? That couldn't be true at all. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to pet the tiger. Soft. Fluffy. Lifeless. Exactly like a toy animal should be. This was definitely not a hot lover who was doing her in her sleep.

Hesitantly, she leaned forward and sniffed. Yes, the scent was still there. Much weaker now, just perceptible. But still so delicious that she immediately got hungry. Hunger for...something.

"You're quite a guy, Hobo," she giggled, putting her hands on her hips. Her breasts jiggled as she did so. She looked down at herself, at the two luscious globes. Cute, actually, with the small, rosy tips. She stroked the delicate skin and had to grin. That morning, her breasts didn't seem too big to her, as they usually did. Did this freaky dream have some kind of therapeutic function?

"All right, okay. Let's summarize," she murmured, looking at the dark red toy in her hand. "I had a crazy sex dream, and while I was at it, I pleasured myself with this dildo. I don't think the hymen survived it, from the looks of the sheet. But other than that...it was nice."

She giggled. Next, she laughed out loud. Nice? This had been the weirdest, wildest, most violent orgasm she had experienced in her entire life! Hm, if it felt that good, then she could begin to understand why everyone was making such a fuss about sex. Even now, the reverberations of lust seemed to flow through her bones, so deliciously tender and quiet.

Jumping up. Bouncing. Giggling. Laughing. More laughter as her breasts bounced along. She took them in her hands and stuck her tongue out at Hobo. The madness trickled up inside her like the pearls in a champagne bottle. A little lunatic perhaps, but incredibly good! Ah!

Breathing heavily, she came to a halt again. Something on her thigh was wet and cool. First a shower. A wash. Down there, first of all. Then - she would see further.

Yeah, she had this certain feeling: that was her day! Everything would be...just perfect. Even the fullness of her bosom for today was not a problem. Nothing to hide. On the contrary! Ah, she was up for the tightest blouse she owned. With a belt to point out her luciousness!

A giggle burst from her throat. Well, whoever came up with such crazy sex dreams didn't need to get upset because of a few inches too much bust, right? Especially since everyone seemed to like it. Including UPX guys.

"Thanks, Aunt Dixie," she smiled pensively to herself. "I don't know what it is, but your gift really makes a difference. I almost think it's a shame it was just a dream. Otherwise, I could do Hobo every night from now on. He is such a great lover! He made me feel so safe."

At this thought, she put her head back and laughed out loud. The gesture squeezed the skin on the back of her neck, and that created a strange itch. Her fingers went there, under her hair, searching for the cause.

Her laughter broke off. That back there felt like four small, scabbed-over bite wounds.

Very, very slowly, she turned her head toward her bed.

Hobo was looking at her.

The smile on his face. Very subtle.

Almost imperceptible...

***

THE END

(c) 2022 Dingo666