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Claire eyed the plush cat staring discontented at nothing from its perch on the table across the motel room.
Ridiculous attempt of a peace treaty or something like it from the weirdly emotional angel still wearing her dad's face—her dad's everything, really, memories included, she assumed, which made her wonder if there wasn't a deeper meaning to the gift.
She wouldn't be the least bit surprised looking back on it if her parents had known what she did with her plush toys as a little girl. And failing that, Castiel may well have seen it during his brief, whirlwind-blinding stay in her own body. Seen the guilt and worry that she was to blame for her dad leaving, that God was punishing her for what she did every few nights. Seen that she'd sworn off it in the hopes it would help bring her dad back. Seen the sharp hope that had been shattered the night she last saw her father alive.
The plush was definitely an attempt to get on her good side. It may also possibly be meant as a bizarre reassurance she wasn't to blame. And a step further, possibly some kind of wildly inappropriate encouragement to pick the habit back up since it was harmless.
The angel was a weird-ass guy. Even after all these years it was clear he still didn't quite get people. She wouldn't put it past him.
Either way, she now owned a plush toy for the first time since she threw all hers out years ago like a newly sober alcoholic pouring out every bottle to avoid temptation. The temptation was still there, surprisingly strong, heat simmering under her collar over an objectively unattractive toy.
Fuck it.
Claire shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it on the other bed. She unlaced her boots, and her socks, jeans, and bra joined her jacket before she swiped the cat plush off the table and carried it back to the unmade bed with her.
She climbed under the covers like she did when she was little and so nervous about getting caught that she took every precaution for plausible deniability she could think of. But she was truly alone now, so she pulled the covers down well enough to see.
The plush fur was soft against the bare skin between her shirt and panties. Her breathing was already turning shaky as she trailed the plush up her tummy, nose against her skin, pushing her t-shirt up to expose her, inch by inch, as it went. She gasped when the hem of her shirt dragged over her taut nipples. The last time she did this she had barely started growing breasts. But ever since she could remember she'd teased her chest, kept her nightshirt bunched up around her collar bone in case she had to pull it down in a hurry. She left her t-shirt the same and watched the plush move between her tits and round the underside of one to come up and brush against her nipple. Jolts of arousal shot through her as she teased the embroidered mouth and nose against the whole of her chest.
God, how naughty and grown up she'd felt when she did this as a kid. A secret between her and her silent, soft, indulgent lovers. How desperately hot it had made her, playing with her bears and assorted animals in the middle of the day and knowing that at the drop of a hat they could make her shudder as pleasure rocked through her.
Claire spread her legs and arranged the sheet to lay like a pillow fort across her raised knees, enough that she could watch as she slid the plush back down her tummy and over her panties. She bit her lip as she rubbed the near-flat face against her slit through the fabric, just hard enough to set her tummy trembling.
How often had she daydreamed about tea time turning into something else? The fantasy of her throwing caution to the wind, stripping down, and fucking herself silly against her toys on the little table while her parents were downstairs none-the-wiser had been a prominent one. She would have climbed atop Ms. Alice, her bunny, and humped her face while holding Benji, her brown bear, by the paws to rub her nipples and drape his body across her back. Then lay on the table and grind her firm dog plush, Wolf, against her. That was about as far as she ever got in the fantasy before she ran to the bathroom to rub one out.
Claire slid her panties off until they were lost under the hotel sheet. It wasn't anywhere near sanitary to put something touched by who knew how many people against her bare pussy, but she'd never been too concerned before. She ran a dark ear against her labia already flush enough with arousal that they had spread a little on their own and she could feel the fur against her clit, just barely. Fuck.
And now that she thought about it, how many of this exact plush had been put to a similar use once it got home to who-knows-how-many other girls? What if some girl was fucking hers too right then? Maybe this ugly little plush was out there somewhere giving a little girl her first ever orgasm. Claire whimpered and spread her pussy lips to rub her clit full on with the firm ear, sending shocks along her nerves and throwing her breathing off balance.
Surely toy companies take that into account. People paid to consider that even preschoolers may fuck themselves with anything they could figure out.
She shifted the toy to start rubbing its face against her clit, down to her entrance, and back.
"Gonna eat my pussy, little kitty? Lick it good for me." She imagined what the plush having a tongue would feel like. If they went with realism, like softer velcro, and the thought of something so rough and unforgiving against her had her legs trembling already.
She'd spent many a humping session imagining her toys waking up, holding her down and making her take it, shoving their blunt paws and pointy tails inside her, using her little pussy and mouth to get themselves off, payback for all the times she'd used them. The idea of being forced to endure a stiff velcro tongue scratching her most sensitive parts, no care for her overstimulation and discomfort, shit—
Claire rolled over, put a pillow under the cat plush, angled it just right, took off her shirt, and started riding it with all her weight, grinding deep against it, breathing humid and erratic.
She'd licked under her bunny's skirt while rubbing her bear's paw hard against her entrance, hips going wild against its face as she imagined it forcing itself in. God, she'd—she'd had a snake made of some lightweight material and she'd shove as much of its tail into her little pussy as she could manage and slowly pull it out while pretending to kiss its mouth, and then shove it in herself again, rough as she could with the understuffed toy. She remembered fantasizing it was long enough to wrap around her to hold her in place as it fucked her and cutting off any protests by tongue-kissing her.
"Ohh, shit!" Claire adjusted herself so the plush nose caught on her clit as she humped hard against it, hips stuttering. She grabbed her tit with the hand not on the headboard and squeezed her nipple between her knuckles. "Gonna fuck me? Come on, do it, make me take it,"—little girl her aching to shove any part of her plushies against or inside her cunt, wanting their soft fur and giving bodies to make her cum without mercy, wanting to be goddamn ravished by her sweet toys—"yes, God, fuck me, fuck me, fu—" Her insides pulled tight, a warm wave of ecstasy rolled through her and she yelped as her orgasm shook through her in the wake, pleasure radiating from the bright, almost too much touch as she rocked against the cat plush, pushing herself further along the sharp peak until her eyes rolled back, her hearing went fuzzy, and she lost her balance.
She was still panting against the remaining pillow a few minutes later when her nerves finally calmed down. She pulled the damp toy up from between her thighs and brushed its fur back into place before she kissed its sewn-on frown.
She might have been a fucked up kid, but she couldn't judge her younger self considering how hard she'd just come with a far-from-ideal plush and some memories. Plus, going through puberty meant her pussy could take considerably more with enough practice. Say, a teddy bear arm. An aftershock rattled through her just at the thought and left her thighs even wetter than before.
As soon as she could without risking passing out, she was going to get herself off again. And then she had shopping to do.