50 Shades of Mew by Mel Evans

The fanfiction community is a largely untapped resource here at The Steamroller, but that's about to change. Local writer/podcaster Mel Evans is here with an erotic and provocative new piece.

This piece originally appeared on Mel's website, where she writes: "Given the upcoming release of 50 Shades of Grey (the movie), I decided to post my erotic fan fiction. I have performed this elsewhere, but since I have not yet received a book deal, I am posting it again. Please enjoy my erotic fan fiction."

The day was already ruined. I had been expecting a lovely nap in the sun, but unfortunately my plans had been upset when a can of white paint was unceremoniously dumped down the back of my luxurious black fur, my one pride.

I strolled into the street, attempting in any way to be rid of this heinous deformity before any person became aware of it, and at the same time, kicking myself for my own clumsiness. What kind of cat manages to obtain a white stripe down her back? I could never hope to lick myself free of toxic paint. This could only result in one thing: a bath. The horrific indignity would be impossible to heal from.

I turned and turned down sidewalks, hoping to make myself invisible until I could undo this disaster of my own making, when I turned directly to meet the eyes of Pepe LePew. Of course I knew who he was. There is only one skunk living in Paris, and one suave lethario skunk at that. I of course nervously attempted to avoid his path – this was Pepe LePew, and I was covered in paint. I couldn’t bear to be seen this way.

“Ah,” he breathed immediately though, “what have we here?” I scoured the alley, desperate for escape – what could he want with me? But the alley was devoid of exit except for the path Pepe LePew stood in. I was trapped and yet…I could not believe I stood an audience with this skunk. My heart began to pound, and I felt faint.

“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Pepe lePew, your lover. For you are…simply intoxicating,” he muttered to me, his accent as bit as lush as all the stories around Paris had portrayed it. In a bold and sudden move, he had me in his furry skunk arms and kissed me up the length of my body. I was terrified. Pepe LePew? Kissing me? This was so sudden and extreme. I thrashed back and forth to wake myself up from this dream.

“You are my peanut, and I am your brittle,” he whispered to me, enclosing me in his suffocating embrace once again. I squirmed wordlessly, attempting to escape, but his love for me was too grand, and he shoved me effortlessly back into his arms. “Yes, my little object of art. I am here to collect you,” He muttered. How could I deny this French skunk anything he wanted?

All at once, just as I thought it, his perfume made its presence known. My eyes widened as I felt its intensity, its enormity…. It was captivating me, intoxicating me, filling my every pore with his essence. I gasped and sputtered as it overtook me, invading my nostrils and mouth, threatening to strangle me. Could he be so stinky? Could one skunk do all this?

My breath choked back in my throat and simultaneously, his grasp tightened around my chest, releasing the last bit of precious oxygen stored in my lungs. My throat began to close and my head began to swim as the arteries in my brain screamed for more air. And suddenly, suddenly, as my heart began to cry out, I felt a surge within me as he squeezed tighter again, and I shattered into thousands and thousands of pieces and then shattered again into thousands and thousands of pieces and then shattered into thousands and thousands of pieces again, resulting in me being in a million littler pieces, and I cried out with the actual last bit of air within me. As soon as I did, Pepe LePewreleased me from his savage embrace and cool air at last filled the void he squeezed out of me. I gasped for air, coming down from the rush he had given me, one so divine and deadly and yet, I wanted more.

“Mew.” I said to him, finally, pathetically. It was all my addled brain could come up with.

“Ah, yes, my petit four,” he cooed to me, “when you are a skunk, you learn to hold your breath for a long time. I think we have very much to teach a skunk like you.” And with that, he swooped me into his arms and carried me away, to both physical and metaphorical places I never thought existed.

-Mel Evans