A horny cat and her mate.

Nobody ever said that writers don't have an urge to share.
I'm not an exception. But sharing among my friends seems way
too easy. So therefore, I'd like to share my first story in
English with you. I hope you like it.

37 responses total.

                    A HORNY CAT AND HER MATE



******************************************************************** 
* A short story by Rick Vermunt, translated from Dutch by myself.  *
* I am 33; librarian and amateur short-story writer. Currently I'm *
* living in Amstelveen, the Netherlands.                           *
* e-mail: R.vermunt@ubvu.vu.nl                                     *
* Many thanx to Mark Bruyneel who edited this story into more      *
* acceptable English                                               *           
                            *
********************************************************************

Introduction by the Author:


Writing sure is my greatest hobby,though I don't pretend to be any good in 
it. But as with all writers I want to share. Now sharing can easily be 
done in Holland ofcourse, but I'm curious what you might think of it. Who 
are, in fact more of a challenge than my friends.

Civilization. It seams there's enough to go round with it in our socalled
sophisticated Western society. In the era past the Restoration Period
we've apparently lost all contact with the supernatural. Mythical 
figures like elves, pixies, giants, sorcerers, witches and so on, they 
appear to have vanished from the face of the earth.
But believe, my beloved children, so we will be able to see things other 
grownups have long forgotten to see. For they are out there, or what?


A HORNY CAT AND HER MATE


I.  The living.

My inner voice was playing tricks on me again:
Is this it? Is this the challenge I've always been looking for? Tell me, is
it? This thing called life...sucks anyway.
"I think it's the end", I replied to my inner self; that liked to play the 
role of my critical father.
I was dazzled. My mouth felt dry and something nauseous stuck in my throat.
I had to admit I was scared. No, terrified was a more fitting term.
I stood shaking all over in the Doorway to the Living. Darkness sprang 
towards me forming a sheer impenetrable wall. I tried the lightknob without 
any result and the light spread by the dying fire in the hearth wasn't 
enough to ease my state of terror. 
Reluctantly I started forward into the livingroom.
"Ouch!" my foot struck an object lying on the floor. It was an ashtray.
Gradually my eyes settled to the dimness in the room and I could
vaguely make out the objects that had become familiar to me in the last 
couple of months. There was the neo-classical Louis 35 chair, the so-called
antiques mrs. La Bete used to love so much, the old crummy clock, numerous 
bric a brac. But most of it was out of place. The chair was tumbled 
over, the clock was smashed to smithereens. A total disastead 
gone through the room. All furniture pieces lay disarray, some of them were
smashed to bits or looked as if they were ripped apart. The only pieces that 
seemed to have survived were the sofa and the cocktail table, with, how odd, 
three brandy glaglasses on it still intact.
They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil went 
on.
A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the back of 
the sofa.
Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still intact:
Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning of 
the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had 
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of 
that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the 
lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had
to know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it 
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped 
on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with...
"Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."

This part can be dismissed, pasting is harder than i thought,
hehe...
glasses on it still intact.
They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil went 
on.
A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the back of 
the sofa.
Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still intact:
Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning of 
the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had 
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of 
that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the 
lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had
to know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it 
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped 
on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with...
"Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."glasses on it
still intact. They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil
went  on. A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the
back of  the sofa. Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still
intact: Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning
of  the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had 
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of  that
gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the  lord,
that old goat. Now, where were they? Insecure I walked further into the room,
still not eager to do it. But I had to know. I had to see. I slowly walked
towards the sofa. As I came closer it  became clear that the sofa screened off
a gruesome display. When I stepped  on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It
was wet, soaked with..." Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes
the same."glasses on it still intact. They weren't where I expected them. Did I
really? That ol' devil went  on. A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay
sluggishly draped over the back of  the sofa. Black velvet. I knew who owned
this cloth when it was still intact: Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the
house. Although the other meaning of  the word would have covered the meaning
it also. This piece of cloth had  been part of her sexy, low cut dress she
always used to wear. The kind of  that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette,
playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the  lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had to
know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it 
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped  on
the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with..." Waiter. Yes
sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."

see what  I mean?

I giggled. It really got to me.
I could distinguish more parts of her dress.
A shoe. Pierre's loafer.
I took a deep breath and stepped around the sofa.

2.  Excitement.

It was thrilling! Yes! Sure it was. My first serious adventure, and no 
parents to stand in my way. Yes yes yes.
But is it wise? That's the phrase my father used. Was it sensible for a girl 
of seventeen, to be thrust into the wide, dangerous world, right from under 
mother's wings? Was it wise? Heck! I was seventeen, I was a grown up girl, I 
was ready to take anything. A whole year away from home!. Wow! My friends 
were green with envy. Them with their outfits, ready for marriage and 
boredom, and sherry with the neighbour houswife. Well, not me. I wanted to 
live! Meeting new people, have adventures, excitement, seeing new horizons 
and maybe, God forbid, have my first affair.
Whether I desired to lose my virginity to some drunk horny old man who has 
no respect for women, my father had asked. They are at hand by thousands in
Holland as well, daddy I countered. O, we had our fights over it, alright, 
but in the end he gave in. Following I registered with an au pair agency 
and waited for a reply.
It came sooner than I had expected, and a couple of days later I rang the 
bell of the La Betes residence.

They owned a castle on the banks of the Dordogne in France, a touristrap for 
Germans and Dutchies. It was immediately clear that they belonged to the 
nouveau riche. Snobs. When I entered their livingroom I could see all kinds 
of "antiques" in various styles, a clashing display of taste and distaste, 
but it wasn't clear which one had the upper hand. If I would pass my 
interview, to be held at their house, they would become my employers for a 
year, all expenses paid for. He said he was in business. Sure, a 
businessman. She was in being gorgeous: an unearthly beauty mixed with an 
exotic sensuality. She made the impression of a predator on the hunt to me. 
She eyed me with calculating contempt. 
She was dressed in a low cut, tight fitting black velvet dress which 
increased this impression even more. He was every bit her match. 
He wore a smart black Armani suit combined with a black shirt 
and tie. From his breastpocket stuck a bright red pochette. He was handsome 
in a way only ugly men can the picture he had a 
black goatee and dito ponytail.
"She is young, isn't she?" the mistress asked the master.
"She will suffice."
"When?"
"Soon."

"Perfect. Hire her. Let's get things over and done with. We can't afford
to stall things forever."
"Certainly, mon cherie."
Ah, mon cherie, the language of love. I considered it rude though to speak
about me as if I wasn't even present.
The strangest thing about it all was that they explicitely had asked for an 
au pair. But they didn't even have children. Was I expected to be a 
lady-companion? And if so, whose? 
"Bon. You can consider yourself hired. It's a deal. Welcome to our humble
household. We'll be looking forward to be enjoying your young company. 
Lisette will show you your quarters. After you've settled in we expect you
to join us for dinner."
Just like that.

3.  Dinner.

Soon after dinner I excused myself to my bedroom. I was tired because of the 
journey, I told them. This was only partly true. I just simply had to get
out of there.
Dinner had been pleasant on the whole, but at a certain point dinner 
conversation had taken a disturbing twist.
That had been when Lisette, after a long period of eating in silence took 
word.
Before that the Pierre had been doing all the talking.
"Where were you born?"
"In Nieuwegein."
"Quoi? How can you even pronounce that?"
"Nieuwegein, a little village somewhere in the Netherlands."
"Well, I know Amsterdam, or Rotterdam. But..., what was that again?"
"Nieuwegein. Oh...er...I mean, well, I've never been in Rotterdam."
"No? And les Pays Bas, Holland, is so small."
"It's, like when you are at school, as a kid. Cities seem so far away."
"And now you're here." Lisette laughed.

"In Rotterdam," Pierre said, "I was in a very different kind of work."
He rolled up his sleeve and showed a scar going all the way from his wrist
to the inner side of his elbow. "Look, this happened in some unsavoury pub
down town."
"Wow," I whispered, "What a big scar. Did you get it in a fight?"
"You could say that again. Does it scare you? Feel free to touch it if you
whish."
Lisette and Pierre exchanged glances.
I hesitated. The scar fascinated me, but I didn't know this man, and
touching him just like that...even with the invitation to do so...
Pierre looked me straight in the eyes. 
Those eyes, strange, what colour were they? I couldn't make it out. They
were obscure, somehow.
Those eyes. Dragging me, hypnotising, dragging me towards this man.
My fingers reached out to his lower arm. The scar the scar the scar.
I came to myself.
Much to my surprise I noticed that my fingers actually were touching his 
scar. Quickly I drew back.
"I'm sorry monsieur," I muttered.
"Don't be, I urged you to do it, the blame is all mine."

"Do you have dreams", Lisette interrupted. She seemed a bit cross and shot 
a dirty look at her husband.
"Sorry?", she startled me a little me with that sudden change of subject.
"Do you dream?"
"Everybody dreams, I guess."
"What do you dream of, then?"
She gave me an intense look.
"All kinds of stuff, I think. Things of life. Most times I don't remember 
them."
"You better not," she said, "Psychologists believe that most of our dreams
are so terrifying that people immediately repress them and put them away.
Chickening out, so to speak. They are dreams of our archetypes. The mythical 
figures people don't believe in anymore. Creatures like gods, demons, 
fairies and so on. The memory of a dream like that would be such a shock 
that someone remembering it would go insane the very instant out of 
selfprotection."
"How do you know that?"
She smiled at me wickedly and gave me a wink.
"I could answer by saying that I read a lot, which, as a matter of fact,
isn't true. No. I do remember all of my dreams."
"And you haven't gone insane?"

"Au contraire. The sweet memories of the horrors in my dreams...ah...such
inspiring thoughts. But I'm different from the ordinary man, ofcourse."
"Gosh."
"You can say that again. Those creatures, how strange they look. It goes far 
beyond the capacity anynone's mind to deal with. Indescribable. So utterly 
inhuman, alienlike. O, yes, a long long time ago, in the early days 
of man, there were plenty of them. I can easily imagine someone dying of  
fear by the mere sight of such a beast."
"Frankly, mrs. La Bete, I do not quite understand. My French, it isn't that
good..."
"Sure, sure," she dismissed my comment.
It was true, I so far have attempted to describe what I understood of her
story. It's obvious that I missed quite a lot.
Her husband took over:
"Can you tell us a dream you remember?"
"Beautiful dreams," I said and lightened up, "Dreams about knights riding 
white stallions. Some exciting. That kind of stuff. But nightmares, never. 
I guess they're all a bit the fruit of a small girl's f

...small girl's fantasy." 
"What happens in these dreams?", Lisette wanted to know.
"Nice things, romances, adventures in exotic areas and such."
"Nothing erotic?"
"Sex?"
"Yes", Lisette replied. She leaned over to me with an avid look on her face. 
"Tell me all about it."
The air in the diningroon seemed to come to a halt. Nothing stirred. Even 
the candles burned silently and the little smoke they producedd climbed 
straight upwards.
I swallowed hard.
Why was the temperature rising so much?
"None to be called erotic dreams whatsoever," I said.
"Don't be so blue. C'mon," Lisette urged.

Pierre came to help:
"I think that eroticism in dreams can't be considered pornographic since
they are the result of one's sexual subconscience. They won't ever be in
conflict with one's scruples. But, on the other hand everyone's
conscience differs, so it could very well be possible that ones innocent 
dreams are to be considered reprehensible in daily life."
Lisette dismissed his remark.
"Yes, yes, honey we are all aware of that. She knows what I mean. Well, my
dear?"
"Sometimes," I said.
She wasn't satisfied with my answer and urged me to go on.
"In some of my dreams," she said," ...in some people's dreams. The ones
they like to forget because they do things with creatures beyond 
imagination. Oh yes, the things they do..."
An angry look by Pierre was followed by his fist striking the table, 
silenced her. After an uncomfortable moment the conversation subject changed 
to a less controversial subject.
I was glad to retire from this weird night.

4.  The dreaming.

Back at my room, I suddenly woke up. I noticed I was sweating allover. Had I 
been dreaming? This thought brought me back to last night's conversation.
If so, was it a erotic one? And if not, why was I sweating allover? Hmm?
Nag, nag, nag. My old friend, my inquisitive inner self was back. 
Flashes, images came to my mind. A cat, a very big cat entered my room, 
purring with its little engine.
A black cat, with a velvet-like fur, aglow from the soft light beaming down
from the moon.
Graciously it had approached my bed, still purring. It had jumped on the 
blankets, and like a kitten it had been trampling my sheets. Pulling them 
with its huge claws. Steadily pulling away the sheets. After that it nestled
itself against my naked body caressing, purring, trampling, licking my neck, 
licking my armpits as cats like to do in company much to the embarrassment 
of those undergoing it.
Was there more? I wasn't sure. But, my better half was. 
There were memories waiting to be recall

... memories waiting to be recalled, I was sure of it. But what? 
Nothing erotic sofar. But it had been a monster of a cat. More like a 
panther. But different.
O my God!
Suddenly I remembered everything.
At a certain moment the cat's caresses had changed into more deliberate
movements. Erotic movements. Finally I received it gladly as it mounted me.
Holy sh...! 
Suddenly panicking I threw away my blankets to check myself, afraid of what 
I might discover.
But there was more, wasn't there? There was more, you wicked little girl.
"Yes I know," I said to myself aloud.
Oh Yes! My mind sprang into memorymode again and I was shocked by the 
next set of images from my dream.

O yes, I had lain there in utter ecstacy as the cat went on and on untill 
it shot its semen into my loin, I cried out of joy for I was certain
that I had conceived from this godlike cat. I knew for sure that this
cat was the personification of some mythical god.
Again I checked my body looking for traces of a forbidden unification.
I couldn't see anything. I sure didn't feel differently. I didn't feel as 
if I just had had intercourse with some...whatever or whoever. But the 
dream was so vivid. What kind of a dream? Was all this due to the discussion
that was held at dinner? Impossible! I was not the kind of person that was
influenced this easily.
There must've been something else. 
Indeed there was more, wasn't there my little one? Time to be ashamed again 
of your filthy self, my dear.
Ofcourse there was. I wasn't done yet with this strange and all too
clear dream.

At a certain point the cat's face had changed. It had changed into...
and now my dream took another sick turn: into the face of Lisette La Bete.
My God! I could clearly picture her as she mounted me. Her eyes closed
with lust, her lips all over the place. And me, kissing her back.
Jesus!
A lesbo-sodomic dream? Now that's what one calls pornographic.
How could I? Tears came to my eyes as I rejected this picture. This
all too clear picture of me mating with a cat a woman. This wasn't me. 
I was convinced of that. What was happening to me? Oh dear, oh dear.
My memory wasn't through with me yet. My dream wasn't through yet. 
Oh no, there was more to come.
Girly, girly, how deep you have fallen...
A sudden loud noise interrupted our the tender lovemaking, however, and the
wild animal jumped off the bed.
I looked up and I could distinguish a huge goat standing in the doorway on 
its hindlegs. Like the devil came to get me for being a sinner.

My mind realed at the memory of it. The devilish looking goat scared me to
death.
It bleated angrily at the cat, which, in turn hissed in fright. In two steps 
it approached the cat and its paws reached out in order to grab it.
My dream stopped there.
I tried to convince myself that this was not the result of last night.
NOBODY HAD HYPNOTIZED ME TO BRING ME SUCH DREAMS.
Nothing has happened to you, girly. You're tired, that's it. See, there
is always a logical explanation for strange phenomena.
Huh? Why did I think of it as stange phenomenon? Dreams sure could play 
dirty tricks on your mind, couldn't they? Like killing your little, 
obnoxious cousin in a dream. Or a demon on your back.
There was nothing wrong with me. I was just a wicked little girl with the 
horniest of dreams. Heehee. 
My imagination must've been playing with little ol' me on as it found 
itself uninhibited on account of my being weary from the journey to the
castle. That must've been the it!

But why would I dream things like that? I wasn't the kind of person to make
up such weird things. NOBODY COULD'VE IMAGINED THINGS LIKE THAT, THOUGH!
NOBODY! 
Finally I went back to sleep and forgot all about it.

5.  Before breakfast.

I woke up refreshed.
I felt renewed. I was glad I made this journey and was eager to meet my 
employers at breakfast. I was vaguely curious about my feeling so energetic. 
Now what did I do to deserve this?, I asked myself.
Was it the luxurious quarters I had to myself?
Was it the bed?
How could I know?
If I hadn't been a virgin at the time I would've known that I felt like 
somebody that had a great sexual experience the previous night. But, I 
didn't know, for I was a virgin and I meant to keep that state untill I had 
met mr. Right, and I didn't mean mr. Right here right now with that.
The La Betes, stange people. A bit excentric, like the filthy rich could be 
excentric. And o so decadent. Now, what did they mean by 'having' an au 
pair? Well, merely becaouse. Since they didn't have any children, I was part of
their status.  At least, that's how I saw it. I was nothing more than a
fashionable object.  Wow! Maybe that's why they paid me so much more than other
au pairs  generally got

I was a lucky one: no whining spoiled little brats to fuzz 
over, all the time in the world to enjoy this life of luxury.
But, what then, was I supposed to do?
These kind of thoughts made me feel a little uneasy although I couldn't
explain exactly why this was so.
Did it have something to do with last night? I didn't know, my mind
was a blur concerning the previous night. As far as I could remember I had 
been in a coma.

6.  My first day.

Lisette appeared at the breakfast table wearing sunglasses. It was an 
unsuccesfull effort to conceal an enormous black eye from the outerworld. 
Apparently there had been a marital dispute between the sheets. I hadn't 
suspected Pierre of being the kind of man to be violent towards his wife. 
Somehow this sight made feel more at ease. Even the rich were apparantly 
also subjects to platitude. That made them a bit more like normal people so 
I decided not to pack my bags and hush off from this strange couple that 
seemed so obsessed with sex.
The rest of the day consisted of getting used to the errands that were going
to be part of my daily routine. As I suspected they were more in need of
a maid instead of an au pair, and I understood that this would be the kind
of tasks for me for the next year to come. Lisette La Bete guided me
through the day without referring to last night's conversation. I guessed
it meant nothing more to her than the usual small talk normal people like to
engage themselves in.

Sometime during the course of the day I was introduced to their butler.
He was a sturdy looking man that greeted me with undisguised contempt. To 
him I was nothing more than the hundredth bimbo in a long line of bimbo's 
that had made their way to the castle.
He gave me one look and got on with his own tasks. 
I shrugged and continued with my own, but after some time, as I turned a  
corner down the hall on my way to the basement I bounced into him.
"Excusez," I mumbled, but he looked over my shoulder to check whether 
anybody had witnessed our little accident.
"Not necessary, I've come to warn you."
"Warn me?," I looked puzzled.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently.
"Listen, mademoiselle, you have to listen to me. I have to warn you about 
mr. and mrs. La Bete. They are not what they seem..."

"Mr. and mrs. La Bete?"
I didn't like him grabbing me like this, just as I didn't like any kind of 
grabbing me in this manner.
"Listen, please listen."
"Let go of me."
He gave me a grave look and tried harder.
"No, no, listen to me. They are different."
"Well you can say that again."
"You don't understand..."
"I very well do. You don't want anymore than to fondle me, have a quick
grab or a sleezy touch here and there. Now, let go of me before I start to
scream."
"No no."
"O yes, indeed. Now, how does that feel, now your job is at stake, huh?"
"Your safety is more important to me."
Finally he got through to me.

"What do you mean?"
He sighed, relieved.
"Listen..."
"Helga?!"
Suddenly Lisette La Bete interrupted us. She rounded the corner of the 
hallway and gave us an inquisitive look.
She frowned.
"Jules? Helga? What's going on here?"
"Ahem, nothing madame, we accidently bounced into each other and after
exchanging some apologies we lost track of time," the butler answered.
He has a very glib tongue, I thought.
Lisette turned towards me.
"Is that true, dear child? He didn't harass you? Feel free to speak, 
Helga."
"Well," I started, "He warned me."

"Warn you?" Her frown became more pronounced.
"Yes, madame, he warned me about the steps to the cellar as he noticed I
wasn't walking too carefully when I bumped into him."
Lisette looked at Jules, but as a butler he was very adept at using his
pokerface in situations like this.
She didn't ask any further, and we continued with our affairs. Jules could
not find another opportunity to talk to me as Lisette burdened herself with 
the task of coaching me in ironing the linen.
Dinner, fortunately, was without any incidents.

7. There's something in the dark.

I woke up from a dreamless sleep.
Something in the castle wasn't right.
God! I was sweating like a pig. I opened my eyes and was relieved to notice
there weren't any unexpected visitors in the room. Why was I relieved to 
find myself alone? Why, my dearest?
My inner voice started questioning again.
Is there nothing you have forgotten about? Wasn't there a fling with some 
wild animal? Hmm?
No! There wasn't! It was all just a dream!
Are you sure of that?
Yes! I checked myself, there were no traces of...oh my God...no traces of
intercourse.
But remember virgin Mary, our good Lord didn't leave any traces on her,
did he?
No, he left her with child. Harhar. He's God! Not some pheline halfgod, or 
whatever!
O.K., relax, now what has happened?

I don't know...
Well, check it out.
I felt naked, which I, actually was. I jumped into my favorite pair of 
faded blue jeans and put on a t-shirt.
I left my room. Why left the safety of my room I didn't know, I also 
didn't know why I considered my bedroom to be safe.
Neither Some force seemed to drag me towards the drawing-room. Faint noises 
came from behind the door.
I didn't want to open it, but I did it anyway.
I stepped inside. It was pitch-dark inside the drawing-room.
A wall of heat struck my face and I immediately broke out into a sweat. 
As I approached the hearth I could see it was ablaze but, to my surprise, it 
didn't cast much light. The darkness came from the room itself. Its 
atmosphere pressed on me. This heat.
I heard the light pace of supple feet. Something came closer to me in the 
dark. I stepped backwards untill the heat of the flames forced me to stop. 
The flames tried to catch the legs of my jeans.
"Who's there?"

"Helga," a faint voice mewled. It sounded slightly desperate. Sad.
"Helga, you've... finally...come...". The voice spoke clearly but had great
difficulty in doing so. "I've been...wait...ing f..or you."
"Who are you? Show yourself." I wasn't sure whether I wanted to find out
who was with me in the room, though. I turned quickly.
Behind me, in the deepest shadows! It was there! It, my dear? Yes! It!
No, at my left, or was it at my right.
My companion was circling me. That frightenend me even more.
My hands searched for the poker that hung next to the hearth.
"Wwwhyyy? Do that?..," the voice whined.
The voice sounded familiar, an echo of somebody I knew. It sounded like
a catlike Lisette! My dream! Oh Jesus Lord in the heavens! What was I going 
to do?
Another set of animal feet joined in with the lighter trod of the other
animal. 
"Clickerdyclack," trampling of hoofs. 
The devilish goat!

Two is company and three is a crowd. I gotta get out of here!
"Hello, Helga," a booming goatlike voice said.
"Go away! I don't like you that way. Whoever you are, you scare me to
death!"
The sound of hoofs came closer.
"Don't be afraid Helga. We mean you no harm."
"I'm no good for a midnight snack. I'm skin and bones. Please."
My eyes flashed from left to right. But I couldn't see anything ofcourse.
This darkness wasn't due to lack of light. The room was dark. A dark room,
so to say. Hee hee. My mind was giving way to madness.
Something cold and hard touched me on the shoulder. 
I cried in panic, expecting gnawing, ripping teeth to lunge at my throat. 
Nothing like this happened.
Paralized I stood pressed against the wall next to the hearth waiting for
the end to come. Nothing happened.
The pressure of the hoof seemed to reassure me bit.
"Better, Helga?," Pierre asked in bleating tones. 
"No, but I won't faint."

Something furry nested against mu right leg. A little shriek escaped
from between my lips. The cat! 
"Listen to us, Helga. We've got some explaining to do."
"The hell, you have!," I cried out, "Forgive me, your honour," I said to
the goat.
"Honour? I'm not one to judge over people. Sit down on the couch and
listen girl. This is going to be a hell of a story."
"You took the words right out of my mouth," I whimpered.

8.  Time is running out.

They guided me towards the sofa. As soon as I sat down the cat (and it was 
big!) crawled on my lap, but Pierre hissed her away:
"Lisette! Don't make it more difficult for her."
"But...the pain, Pierre,... I can't... stand it," the cat complained.
"You'll have to be patient for now."
"What I'm going to tell you will be beyond your wildest dreams," Pierre
started.
"I'm not so sure of that. I've had some wild dreams, last night."
"About.. us?" Lisette asked.
"Well, I can't see what you, but I think so."
"She..has sensed..us!" Lisette said hopefully.
"Don't jump to conclusions, dear," Pierre said," Let me tell our terrible
story first. Good. This darkness is cast by fate. Our fate, and we want you 
to be a part of it, Helga, so listen.
We haven't invited you for nothing. We did that with a special purpose."
"I think I don't want to know," I replied.

"But I'm going to tell you anyway. So stay put. It's all for the better. You 
don't know our reasons yet,  but..."
I think I've got some assumptions for you if my dreams were as predictive
untill the end as they've shown to be so far, I thought to myself.
" We are not like other people, in fact we aren't people at all. We belong
to the mythical race of the damned. I know, it sounds melodramatic, but 
if you would be able to see us as we are, you would agree."
"I'll buy anything you say, Pierre. Your presence alone gives me the
creeps."
"So much for the better...or worse...Lisette and I are bound to each other
into infinity. As gods and as humans. Lisette and I are the tragic 
gods of the damned. Yes, we are gods, immortal gods, and therefore damned.
You, Helga, are our last hope. Only you have got the power to save us...
for the time being at least," he added sadly.
I shivered.

I could sense the vast power of these two. It seemed to choke me.
The radiance of their devine auras struck me to the core. Weekening me,
drew strength from all of my muscles. I gasped. I could almost see them. 
At last, pictures from my dream came to my mind, and I gasped again.
I believed them, even though it was the first time I met one, let alone two.
I knew a god when I met one. They were gods allright.
"Let us live, Helga. Please."
"I thought you were immortal?"
"If we want to, yes, to some extent."
"What's the limit to your powers?"
"That depends on you. Time has caught up with us sooner than we expected.
Our time is running out. Already we've changed into our godlike forms, but
we are already to late. And yet, you could save us from our doom." 
I could feel his breath heavy on my sweatsoaked t-shirt. This made me draw
back deeper into the pillows of the sofa.
I swallowed.

"What's the catch?"
"You have the power to lengthen our existence with another hundred years."
"Holy sh...!"
"Yes, you have got the power to save us from our doom. Fate has to be dealt 
with, but only with your permission."
"What? With my permission?"
"Yes, with your permission. Only then we can escape from the curse that
haunts us. Well, for the next hundred years, that is. Your help would ward 
off our doom and keep us in our human shape. And, as you know we've lost 
that part already, so there's no time to waste."
I felt driven into a corner. Not only literally as I felt now, but also
by the pressure they put on me to help them. At least, if I could believe 
that Pierre had spoken the truth.
A painfull moan brought me back.
"Lisette? Are you allright?"
"N...no, Iiii am ...not."
She needn't say that.
"Lisette is worse than me. She's almost lost. She's having more and more
difficulty speaking like a human. Very soon she'll be transformed into a cat 
completely. And it's happening to me also."

"What if I'm too late?"
"Then it's irreversible. There's no time to waste."
"No time for what?"
"Save us from the curse...eeeh it hurtsss....Give us another hundred years.
We can't do it with each other, Lisette and me. We would tear each other 
apart. Rip ourselves to shreds. We can't mate, Lisette and I. Between us
there's no place for tenderness. As I said: Bound forever, and damned 
forever.
We can only love each other, but making love. But there is a way out:
We can make love to humans, virgin humans to be precise. Only once every 
hundred years. And that moment has nearly passed. That's our curse." 
"How could Lisette possibly mate with me? She's a woman."
"Gods...she's got a penis if she needs one. And this is the monent. 
We are changing, Helga, and only you have got the  power to stop it. Help us 
Helga, before it is too late. Help us. Aaargggh...," another jolt of pain 
seemed to have lanced Pierre.
I, I couldn't. I couldn't get myself to mate with animals!

My dreams were given to me by these two, these two....gods! And now
they wanted to go to bed with me. Mate with them. Like animals, copulating
for the heck of it. Well, not for the heck...And give up my virginity to
demons. Even if I wanted to help them, and I did, I couldn't get myself
to do it. I ran to the door.
"Nooooo!," Pierre screamed, "Helgaaaaaaa!"
"You..musst mate...with...us, H..elga..pl..ease..," Lisette exclaimed.
It was the last thing they ever said. With a snarl Lisette's voice 
changed into a a fierce demon-like growl. Pierre snapped at her, bleating 
angrily: "Bitch, wait untill I f....you!" His voice died away and switched 
into a goat's voice.
I fled upstairs and locked the door of my room tightly. Then I put a couple
of heavy arm chairs in against it. And crawled back in the deepest corner
of the room.
I knew that if I could survive this night, everything would be over.
But, oh what guilty feeling!
Should I go back and save them? Or was it too late, and would they consider 
me a welcome meal as a break in the ripping each other apart business?
I Could have saved them.

I could hear the crashing and smashing noises downstairs below me. Then, 
there was an eery silence.
After some time I could hear swift feet trampling in front of my door. Then, 
suddenly something big smashed against the door. The door held! Scratching 
sounds...
Mewling with an echo of my name.
Hoofs approaching. Hissing, bleating. Fighting sounds wandering off.
My mind snapped. It was too much. I greeted oblivian as an old friend and 
drifted into the protecting arms of nothingness.

9.  Awakening.

That's the pits. My state of oblivian didn't last forever. Finally I came
to my senses. I couldn't believe what had happenend last night. It must've 
been a dream within a dream. Just as vivid as the one of the previous night. 
I knew I could have dreams like that. I knew it now. Dreams were my outlet.
But I had to know. Was it a dream? It had to be. Gods didn't exist.
IT HAD TO BE.
I opened the door of my room to investigate. My dreamtheory was obviously
contradicted by the enormous scratches on the front of the door. A second 
disturbing thing was the bloodstains on the carpet. I went down the stairs. 
And as I approached the drawing-room it was deadsilent in the house. Not a 
single sound could be heard.
I entered the drawing-room.

10.  End of dreams to come.

Here there was only room for reality, not for reason. Why should there be?
I looked down on the remains of mr. and mrs. La Bete (the beast, I should've 
known from the start). They lay there, clinging to each other in a 
caricature of making love. It was like Pierre had said. In a desperate 
attempt to follow their instincts they had tried to mate. A tragedy of lust, 
and incapable of love in a tender way. Arms, fur, blood, organs, you name 
it, it covered most of the carpet in the drawing-room.
The mating of dinosaurs was a laugh compared to the violence with which this 
one had taken place.
The ultmate copulation. You can say that again, my inner voice whispered.
They were damned. It was oh so true. 
An who is to blame, my dear? A familiar voice inside my head.
Is it you, my dearest Helga? Is it you? Who can tell?
Well?
Yes, I was the one that had caused this to happen. Their fate had been in 
my hands, and I had let it go.
Yes, dear, you are the one. Time to faime.
This dream never seemed to end.

August 1995
Rick Vermunt
comments: R.Vermunt@ubvu.vu.nl

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