Anthropomorphic animals in fantasy stories allow human readers to imagine inter-species romances that aren’t exactly bestiality, since animals who behave and speak like humans are not part of the real world.
My new collection of stories, Spring Fever and Other Sapphic Encounters, includes several new and reprinted fantasy stories. My story “Madame Blanche” is a version of “The White Cat” by Countess d’Aulnoy (originally written in French in the 1600s), and it first appeared in Rumpledsilksheets: Lesbian Fairy Tales from Ravenous Romance press. Both main characters feel they are under evil spells. Madame Blanche, the lady of a mysterious castle, must live in the form of a cat, along with all her courtiers.
“Prince Val,” as she calls herself, was born female but believes she was meant to be a man. Can each of them morph into her (or his) true form? As you could probably guess, love is the key.
Note that this story is romance, not erotica. It doesn’t get more explicit than this:
"Blanche had large eyes as green as emeralds, which she would fix on her guest whenever she spoke. The gaze of the little cat made Val feel as though her very thoughts were heard and accepted. She hoped Lady Blanche could not guess what lay under her manly attire.
After luncheon, all the cats and their human visitor mounted wooden horses in the stable yard, and galloped to a place where rats were as numerous as stars in the night sky. What a hunt it was! Val had brought her bow and arrows with her, and she fired at the prey while her feline companions leapt from their mounts to attack the biggest rats with teeth and claws. Some of the rats fought fiercely enough to injure their attackers, and then the wounded cat-courtiers jumped back onto their wooden horses to return to the castle where a cat-physician awaited.
And so Val spent many days in the delightful company of Lady Blanche and her companions, who grew accustomed to the human in their midst. During court balls, Val danced with the little cat in her arms to compensate for the great difference in their heights.
When Lady Blanche needed rest, as she often did during the day, she sought out Val and curled up on her lap. Val learned that her furry companion welcomed Val’s touch. Blanche often bumped Val’s hand to show that she wished to have her ears rubbed or to be scratched under the chin, and when Val stroked her back, she shivered in ecstasy. As the lady cat's eyes closed and she purred contentedly, the warmth of her little body would permeate Val’s trousers and awaken her hidden womanhood, including the button of flesh that so longed to be touched.
In short, Val fell in love in a way she found more surprising than anything she could imagine. "Lady," she told her hostess one day, "I don't know how this could be, but I love you so much that I wish I could marry you. Alas! If you cannot become a woman or tell me how to change your form, could you not ask the one who bewitched you to change me into a handsome tom-cat?"
The answer was like an arrow piercing Val’s heart. 'No, my love.'
That night, she could not sleep comfortably, even on a bed of goose-feather mattresses. Emerging from her bedchamber in the dark, she heard the quiet click of little claws on marble floors. Val followed stealthily, following the sound of cat-paws to a small chamber at the top of a tower where moonlight poured through a round, uncovered window. The little cat’s white fur gleamed in the watery light as she jumped from a table to an armoire to an old chair. She wore no clothes and seemed possessed by restless spirits. When she flung herself to the floor and crept along on her belly, singing in her own language, the Princess understood her condition. Lady Blanche was in heat. "
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Another fantasy story, new to Spring Fever and Other Sapphic Encounters, also takes place in a castle. In this case, a visiting wizard named Sir Theobald has come to help Lady Elinor withstand a siege by sex-demons in the absence of the lady’s husband. The story is told by Lady Elinor’s companion, Margaret, who notices that the wizard has brought along his own manservant or apprentice, Robin, a man with goodly thighs. Two more servants, Joan the Cook and young Stephen, make up a group of half a dozen who are determined to raise sexual energy to resist intruders.
Lady Elinor says she will only mate with her own wedded lord, and the wizard tells her how to make this happen.
"When the door to the chamber was locked, Sir Theobald created a large circle on the uncovered floor with salt that he carried in a bag under his robe. 'This will have to do,' he told us, 'to control any spirits who may join us. My lady, a frosty window must serve as a scrying-glass. Stand as high as you can on a chair, and look into the frost on a window-pane. It is a world in miniature, and you must study it until you see your lord walking toward you through a crystal garden.'
Lady Elinor did as she was told. “I see him!” she exclaimed. 'He approaches!'
'Then we must all gather within the circle,' said the wizard, 'and you, my lady, must not let your lord’s image fade from your mind until each of us can see him as clearly as you do yourself.'
My lady lifted her skirt to step over the line of salt, and we all enjoyed the sight of her slender legs. 'Ah,' remarked Sir Theobald. 'No clothes are allowed within our circle of truth. We must all be skyclad.'
Joan began unlacing her gown, showing a deep valley between her large, rolling breasts. She paused, as though for modesty, but then I perceived that she was revealing herself in phases that resembled the acts of a play. After the debut of her breasts, she removed her cap and undid her golden hair, releasing it in waves down her back.
Stephen struggled to remove his clothes without taking his eyes off our lady or Joan. I placed my shoes near the door, then stood as close to the fire as I dared while pulling off layers of cloth and folding them into piles. I was sure my buttocks were reddening from the enchanting heat of the fire. I hoped that we would all kindle enough warmth of our own not to mind when the fire died down.
Stephen stared openly at my sturdy arms and hips, and I noted his strong preference for female flesh.
We six were soon an oddly–assorted group, as naked as lunatics or honest beasts.
'Hold hands,' commanded Sir Theobald, 'and don’t break the circle!' I clutched young Stephen’s hot, dewy palm with one hand, and my lady’s small, cool fingers with the other. The light from the windows declined like a receding tide.
'Hocus pocus penis maximus,' chanted the wiseman under his breath. 'Futuere amare vivere.'
Sir Lionel appeared in the center of our circle, and his expression showed bewilderment. His hair and beard were untrimmed and unwashed, and his skin shone with sweat beneath its coating of dust. He looked thinner than before and wore only a ragged linen shirt that showed his bare legs and his cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of greasy brown hair. The man smelled of woodsmoke and of earthier things.
'Wench?' he asked, looking at each of us until he came to his wife.
'Lionel, my love!' she screamed, as though in answer. She leaped into his arms and wrapped her legs about his waist. Without more ado, he guided his eager cock into her weeping cunt while she squirmed forward to accept it.
I felt as though we five were witnesses to a wedding night, but it was not a perfect union. The lord grunted as he thrust into her again and again. 'Ah-h-h.'
My lady leaned forward to rub her small breasts against her lord’s hairy chest as they galloped together. She looked into his eyes as though seeking something.
Sir Theobald’s cock looked full enough to burst, and I saw that Robin and Stephen were in the same state of readiness. Joan and I shifted from foot to foot, rubbing our thighs together.
The wizard moved behind Sir Lionel, and tore the shirt from his back; the cloth parted like a spiderweb when pierced by a knife. Then Sir Theobald licked one finger, and slid it slowly into our lord’s nether hole in time to his thrusts. 'My lord,' murmured Sir Theobald into his ear, 'where are you?'
I could see our lord’s strong buttocks clenching from the stimulation he was receiving, both fore and aft. He seemed unable to speak. He clutched his lady’s bottom with both hands, and pulled her tight against him in an agony of pleasure. He groaned and trembled, and it seemed clear that he was discharging inside her. Sir Theobald withdrew his finger, and backed away.
Tears spilled from Lady Elinor’s eyes and poured down her delicate face, now reddened with sorrow. She seemed unable to recognize the rutting plowman who held her, although she would not have parted from him.
'My lady,' admonished the wizard, 'calm yourself.'
'Lionel,' she whispered. 'do you not know me?'
'A fine house,' declared the lord, who seemed unaware that the house was his own. He gently pried his lady’s thighs from his hips, and set her on her bare feet.
Sir Theobald stood before our lord, took his shrinking cock in his hand, and squeezed it unmercifully. 'My lord!' he shouted.
'Ye gods of old!' shouted Sir Lionel. 'Am I dreaming?'
At last, I could catch a breath. Our lord seemed to be back in his own body, and present in every sense.
'If you were,' retorted Sir Theobald, 'you would not feel this.' He released the cock in his hand, stepped behind our lord, and smacked him smartly on the backside.
'Such unkindness,' groaned Sir Lionel, although he could not banish the smile from his face. 'Elinor, my love, you were not to venture into dangerous lands to find me.'
'The visitors’ parlor?' she retorted. 'How dare you?' she continued. Her still-unsatisfied arousal seemed transformed, by some alchemy, into rage. 'How dare you tell me how to behave as a proper wife?' She stared him in the face, and smacked his cheek with her little hand. He flinched, although probably not from pain.
He wrapped his strong arms about her. 'Please forgive me, Elinor. A wife is happier if she never sees her husband away from home.'
She leaned down and bit one of the arms that held her. He grunted, and let her go. 'You are in our house, Sir Fool, trapped in the circle of truth. I will be happier if you tell me what you truly desire, and all you have done since I saw you last.'
The lady stood like a straight white lily, and glowed like a torch. She appeared to grow taller as her lord bent his head in submission to her.
'That is a not a tale for delicate ears,' he warned her. 'My angel, I have no wish to lose your love.'
Glancing about me, I saw Robin’s thick red cock in Sir Theobald’s fist. There, at least, no love seemed likely to be lost on either side. As I watched, I saw some clear substance coating the hard cock and easing its movements as our wiseman stroked it faster and faster.
'Silence,' growled Sir Theobald, and Robin clenched his teeth as he strove to comply. It was not clear to me that the comely young man was the only one of us required to control himself. Joan openly cupped the golden curls below her belly, and I guessed that she hoped to insert a finger or three without attracting notice.
In a moment, I thought, we will all descend to our hands and knees like four-legged beasts, and reconfigure the circle by entering each other’s mouths, cunts, and back passages with fingers, cocks and whatever else would serve (half-melted candles?). The image in my mind aroused me so much that I could have reached a paroxysm without touching myself at all, but in the spirit of mutual consideration, I refrained. My cunt felt very wet.
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In due course, Lady Elinor gets a chance to punish her lord for his debauchery with female sex-demons while he was away from her, but Sir Theobald reminds her that wise queens must not be hypocrites, and Sir Lionel has a right to know how Lady Elinor has amused herself with Margaret during the long winter months. Margaret realizes that Joan has admired her for a long time, while Stephen just wants to lose his virginity. In a land of enchantment, dreams can come true.
