This story was hard for me to pick the right category. In the end I went with incest/ taboo, but there's quite a bit of petplay, even a touch of bdsm involved. Either way, I don't think it's a bad fit, just be forewarned.
Also, I got the idea after reading another story on here. I would link it but I have no idea what the name was. Same kind of set up, but I wanted it to go in a direction that it didn't, so I wrote my own. Anyways, if this sounds familiar, and you wrote a story like it, thanks for the inspiration!
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I was at the store grabbing some groceries and cleaning supplies when I saw it, a big oversized plush cat, black with big cartoony eyes. I smiled and picked it up.
"I bet she'd like this," I told myself, grabbing it and tossing it into my cart and heading for check out. It was raining so I made sure to keep the bag nice and covered as I drove to my car.
The ride home wasn't bad at all, long and slow and winding through the hills. I liked living in the country, always have, so I picked up a spot not too far out of town with a good bit of land a couple years back. I put on some joy division and beat the steering wheel like a drum before pulling through some trees and up to my place.
"Danny?" I called as I walked through the door, to no answer. I heard the pitter patter of footsteps and a door closing. I shrugged, exhaling and trying to shake off the feeling of defeat that greeted me every day when I got home.
I brought the bags inside and set to work cooking dinner: two juicy steaks, asparagus, baked potatoes. I'm not the best cook in the world, but I can make a decent meal every now and then.
I heard a door upstairs open and closed and I peeked my head around the corner.
"Danika?" I called, knowing full well not to expect an answer, and I was right to. "Danika, dinner will be ready soon," I yelled, then turned back to the asparagus.
There's no way this story is gonna make a lick of sense unless I give you a little back story. I was 13 when my sister had Danny. She was much older than me, already out of college, and while it wasn't exactly planned, her boyfriend Alex was a stand up guy and they got married shortly thereafter.
Danny was always this shy little girl, black hair and big bright green eyes, just a skinny little thing that spent more time hiding and avoiding people than anything else, but we got along pretty well. Even though we did live states away, I'd get to visit often, or vice versa, and did my best to get to know her and be a decent, albeit younger uncle to her.
Jenny, my sister, always loved it and encouraged my visits. She'd say I really brought Danny out of her shell, which was hard to imagine seeing as how she barely even talked to me, but I wasn't gonna argue with her. That's why, when I was about 24, she asked if I'd be alright being Danny's legal guardian.
It was a bit of a shock but I happily obliged. Our parents weren't exactly ideal, and her husband's parents were both a lot older. I was honestly flattered and thought it was purely symbolic, that this was just her way of showing her appreciation. Man, was I wrong.
Flash forward about six years and I get the worst phone call of my life. There had been an accident, and my sister and her husband were dead. To make matters worse, Danny was in the car with them. She'd been pretty banged up but she was ok, the only real kicker being it had happened on a dark, rainy night, and they'd spent the night in a ditch before being spotted in the morning.
I don't know how much Danny really remembered from that night, if she was awake or unconscious, but I have always feared the worse happened.
Anyways, I dropped everything and drove up to Maine. I was the executor of their estate and their main beneficiary was Danny anyways, so I sold their house and most of their stuff, planned the funeral, took what I held most dear, helped Danny do the same.
Since she was turning 18 in a week or two, I could have easily stuck around until then and left her to be on her own, but the thing is, after the accident, she stopped talking entirely, not a word to anyone. And barely anybody came to check on her or visit her in the hospital. It was obvious she didn't have a very big support network, didn't have too many friends or really the ability or wherewithal to fend for herself (even if she did receive a staggeringly large inheritance) so after speaking with both sets of grandparents, it was decided that the best course of action would be for me to take her home with me, as was the original plan, and to see her through this tough time until she could handle being on her own.
The tricky part was, I didn't have a clue what I was doing. She hid in her room most days, occasionally coming out to watch cartoons. She'd fallen into a little bit of a childish mindset, which didn't really surprise me. Hell, she was still a kid, she turned 18 about a week after she started living with me, spent her entire birthday in her room. So really, I wasn't exactly surprised when she ignored mostly everything I said, I got it, and I didn't want to rush her, the only weapon in my artillery to handle her was patience. I hoped she'd open up when she was ready, and I'd be there for her when and if she ever did, and that was the best I could do.
We settled into a pretty mundane life together, somewhat routine. She would hide in her room most days, I'd occasionally be able to coax her out with cartoons on my big screen. I didn't ask much of her. Honestly, there was only one real rule I had for her that I was ever serious about, and I felt like it was a pretty easy one to follow. She had to eat dinner with me every night. I don't really think she ever ate much otherwise, and I wanted to make sure she had at least one meal a day, and though there was some feet stomping and dirty glares at first, she'd given in and it had become a nightly thing for us.
I set the table and made us both plates, pulled her stuffed cat out of the bag and set it down on my dining room table, basically the centerpiece, and walked upstairs.
"Danny?" I asked, knocking on her door quietly, and after a second she popped her head out. "Dinners ready, sweetheart," I told her and she nodded, then closed the door.
I walked back down and grabbed a beer, pouring her a glass of milk, which she chose to drink with every meal, and sat down. Soon enough I heard footsteps and looked up to find her walking up to the table. She was in a big, oversized black hoodie and sweat pants, her face half hidden, her messy hair jutting out.
I felt a sharp needle of pain in my heart seeing her like this. It was hard to tell but lately I'd felt like she was getting worse, and the sight of her all disheveled, dragging her feet, well it kinda killed me.
But then she looked up and I've never seen anyone's countenance change so quickly. She spotted the stuffed cat on the table and almost jumped, hiding her face behind her hands, her eyes wide, and I was almost sure there was a smile behind her hands.
She turned to me and looked hopefully, and I just shrugged, smiling, gesturing towards the cat.
"I saw him and he reminded me of you, I thought you might like-" I started and she just kinda lunged forward, grabbing the cat and sitting down at the table, holding it close and hugging it, rocking side to side.
It was the most accomplished if felt in some time, I didn't even bother harassing her about her meal, just ate and droned on about my day like I always did.
"So then Brian tries to act like he'd taken care of the entire account, and I was about to blow it, but Mr. Sheehan grabbed me and pulled me aside and told me he knew who did all the work, and not to worry about it. Ha!" I laughed, and Danny smiled at me, still hugging the cat.
"Anyways, how was your day?" I asked, and she looked away, staring at the ground.
"Nah? Not today?" I asked, and she shook her head.
"That's ok, sweetheart, that's ok, but I am gonna need to see you clean your plate."
The look she shot me was a little scary, to say the least, but I was used to it by now.
"Hey, is that any way to treat your favorite uncle? The same guy that brought home Mr. Kitty?" I laughed, and her glare faded. She looked down, almost sad or sorry or something, and set the stuffed animal on the table, grabbing her fork and knife.
I sat back and smiled, drinking her beer, watching her struggle with the utensils, working a little too hard just to get one bite of steak.
"Aw, baby, you want me to cut that up for you?" I asked after a minute or two, and she looked up, a worried look in her eyes, shaking her head up and down eagerly.
