The Real Olive Garden (2024)

When I first started dating Lenore she told me I'd know when she fell in love with me. "Trust me," she said with a small smile while we sat at a fancy French restaurant. It was as if she already knew I'd fallen in love with her, and now it was a matter of waiting for her to catch up. And this was true. I fell in love with Lenore after our second date, her confidence, her conventional beauty, her smile, her sense of humor, but I don't know how she discovered it. I must've given off some pretty obvious vibes for her to make such a self-assured remark. And I kept it in mind. I thought about what she told me every time we met, straining my ears for a hint that the feelings I had for her were reciprocated.

Was she into weird sex stuff? Molested as a child? Maybe a drug addict. Maybe a CIA operative. Hermaphrodite?

Ha. The things I thought.

But she was right. I knew it as soon as she said it because it was beyond whatever I could've imagined. When she explained it to me, it reminded me of that joke, The Aristocrats. I told her that and she nodded and laughed.

"Yeah! I always thought of it that way, too."

And still, despite its bizarreness, there was no shaking in her voice when she told me. No fear of me leaving her. Maybe it was the fact that she showed she was in love with me. Maybe that sort of softened the blow of what she just explained. Because I was happy when she told me; in my mind, she loved me first, and the cat orgies, they were second.

The next week we went over to her parents' house. The whole family'd be there. We had already talked about marriage at this point. She told me she told them she thought I was the one, and it made me glow.

Before we went over she offered me a tab of ecstacy. Seeing as it was my first time and all.

"They won't mind?" I asked. "I want to make a good first impression."

"Don't worry about it. You're going to make a good first impression. Believe me."

I was rolling pretty hard by the time we pulled up to the house. I kept grabbing the inside of Lenore's thigh and she swatted it off.

"Save it for later."

I asked her if it was ok for me to tell her I was horny. She shrugged and told me it was fine without taking her eyes off the road. "Ok," I said. "I'm horny. This ecstacy is great. I'm ready to do this Lenore. I love you."

She nodded in approbation.

"You'll do fine."

Her mother opened the door, or I assumed it was the mother, she looked like Lenore but older so I guess it was her, but before I could introduce myself to her her mouth was over mine, tongue counting my fillings, poking the hole where my wisdom tooth had been removed, and I was kissing back, brought her in up against me, and I heard Lenore on her father in the same way. The four of us promenaded into the living room, constantly kissing and groping with occasional glances down the hallway to make sure we didn't bump into anything, and as we promenaded our partners kept switching. Next it was Lenore, then Lenore's dad, then Lenore's mother again, and in the living room was Lenore's sister and brother on the couch, the sister splayed out with her hands over heard while the brother pleasured her orally.

My jacket was off and so were my pants and someone's mouth was on my member when we heard a proclamation from the top of stairs, stately, regal, stentorian, your choice.

"Here I come."

We all removed our mouths and genitalia from whatever mouth and genitalia they were attached to at the moment to listen. We heard the quick steps down the steps, heard his paws click clack over the marble tiles, and then there he was. Mittens the cat. Decked out in a monocle and a top hat, he sauntered in to the living room and took in inventory. Licked his lips.

I've never been penetrated before and I'm glad the first time was Mittens. His member was that of a normal cat's -- not very large at all -- so that I got more sensation out of his furry body bouncing off of my buttocks than the actual intercourse. While it happened, I thought, This must be what it feels like when a baby gets his bottom powdered.

Lenore explained, much like a toast, these orgies did not finish until mouth and genitalia had connected with everyone's mouth and genitalia, so obviously it took some time. When it did finish all of us were sweaty, naked, and pleased. We stood up and wiped fluids off our skin and smiled at one another. It felt like the end of a well-played soccer game. I even had the urge to shake everyone's hands and say, "Nicely done."

We sat down to a delicious roast beef dinner in the dining room. Mittens didn't, however. After the orgy he sauntered back out the way he had sauntered in, mewling "A pleasure!" over his shoulder before he turned the hallway and went back up the stairs.

Everyone at dinner seemed to like me. I tried to pay the same amount of attention to each and every member of the family. None of us had put our clothes back on. We'd get dressed while Lenore's mother made coffee and served dessert, and a month later Lenore would tell me everyone thought I was wonderful, and I was welcome back any time, and I felt very good about this.*I still hadn't proposed to Lenore when we moved in together but I told her I would when the time was right, much like she told me I'd know when she was in love with me. We got a lovely house in a lovely suburban gated community that was close to my workplace. We'd go to Lenore's family's house every other month to do the same thing we always did. The only thing that differed was Mittens' entrance and departure speech.

"Hello, you beautiful people!"

"Hasta la vista."

"Oh, let's get things started!"

"Time for a nap."

"It's Mittens time!"

"Thanks, guys. 'Til the next one."

Lenore told me that Mittens was as old as her mother, Marta. Maybe older. Marta got Mittens as a child, and Mittens never aged. Mittens started talking to Marta when she hit puberty. Single sentences much like the ones he said before and after the orgies. And soon Marta found herself enamored with the cat. She hid this from her family but decided when the time came for her to get married and raise a family, they'd learn to love Mittens the same way she did, which was physically.

Lenore admitted to wishing she could bring Mittens to the house, but she knew her mother'd never approve. "They've been together too long," she'd say sadly, one of the only topics she addressed that actually seemed to hurt her. "But I love Mittens just as much as she does."

I'll admit, too, that I had developed a strong affection towards Mittens. Something about him made you want him around all the time. He made you want to give yourself up completely to him, let him do with you whatever he pleased. A mysterious, hypnotizing cat. A one-of-a-kind.

So I started to research. I looked up cat orgies online. Ageless cats. Cats who can talk. I finally found a site, an occult site (surprise surprise) that provided folklore about demons manifested in feline form that went back as far as the ancient Egyptians. It was told that only a handful of these cats still existed today, many of them drowned or burned throughout history in a series of what some may call feline pogroms, and it was unclear how these cats came to be, when, or if more could be created through eugenics. I contacted the owner of the website to see whether he had more information but he didn't. I didn't let him know about Mittens, seeing as he was apparently such a rare and potentially coveted after commodity.

It pained me to see Lenore sad. I wanted to find a new Mittens for her, as a surprise. I went to her parents' house for an unscheduled visit alone. I told Lenore I needed to pick up some things.

Over a cup of coffee in the living room where the orgies took place I talked to Marta and Edgar -- Lenore's father -- about Mittens. "Your daughter would love a Mittens of her own," I explained.

They looked at each other uneasily when I told them, mid sip, then supped, and put their coffee mugs down on the porcelain coasters. Edgar cleared his throat.

"We've tried," he explained to me, answering a question I didn't need to ask. "For a long time we tried. We wanted to give all of our kids one, to pass onto future generations. But Mittens, it seems he's sterile. We'd find a lady cat in heat for him, they'd go at it, and no results! No litters. He must've f*cked every cat in town, to be honest. We're at as much of a loss as you are."

"And I'd give him up," Marta said, "but I don't even think it's possible. I don't think he'd approve. Honestly, there are times where if I'm away from him for too long..."

She stopped, looked down, and supped. Edgar finished for her.

"She gets sick. Nausea, headaches, pain all over her body. It seems Mittens and her are attached in some way, spiritually, and they're gonna be together for the rest of Marta's life."

I bowed my head in exasperation, tried to conceal the lightbulb that went off over my head.


Mittens watched me as I set up his playroom. I put a scratching post in one corner, food and water dish in another, kitty litter another. Against one of the walls I put a ladder for him to climb with a mousey toy dangling from the ceiling. Also in the room was a button Mittens could step on, calling for more Fancy Feast in his plate any time he pleased.

"It's a nice place," he told me.

After the room was put together to satisfaction I put the proposal charm around his neck. He yawned.

"I'll get used to this," he said.

And then we waited together for Lenore to get home.

I heard the door open and called for her to come over. When she walked into the room and saw me and Mittens the car keys and shopping bag dropped from her hands and hands shot to mouth in a joyous gasp. "Oh my God!" she said, and the tears were already coming down her cheeks.

I smiled. Mittens licked his lips stoically. I told her to pick him up.

"Oh Sam oh Sam you're the best Sam oh Sam." And when she picked him up and saw the proposal etched on the pendant she yelped again and looked at me, laughing, crying, everything. "Oh, Sam!" she said, dropping Mittens and putting my head in her hands.

"Yes!" she said between kisses. "Of course! Yes!"

I'd take her to where I buried them later that night and she'd feign remorse but it would be all too clear she was happy with what I did.

The Real Olive Garden (2024)


Top Articles
Latest Posts
Article information

Author: Laurine Ryan

Last Updated:

Views: 5953

Rating: 4.7 / 5 (77 voted)

Reviews: 92% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Laurine Ryan

Birthday: 1994-12-23

Address: Suite 751 871 Lissette Throughway, West Kittie, NH 41603

Phone: +2366831109631

Job: Sales Producer

Hobby: Creative writing, Motor sports, Do it yourself, Skateboarding, Coffee roasting, Calligraphy, Stand-up comedy

Introduction: My name is Laurine Ryan, I am a adorable, fair, graceful, spotless, gorgeous, homely, cooperative person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.