It was fingers running through his hair that brought the tiger to. Gentle, slow combing across his scalp in such a playful, happy way… The gentlest way to wake up. He could feel her before his eyes opened, her fur against his, her body supporting him as he rested against it, sitting but still leaned into her. He felt the word rise to his lips not once, twice, or even just three times, so tired to properly let it go, his eyes barely able to open, so coaxed as they were by the echoing feeling of calm, heavy bliss from earlier.
“…Mmm… M…oomma…”
“There you are, Sweetie. I was hoping you’d join me for dinner~”
Her voice, light and gentle and adoring, full of love for him that set his heart aflutter.
“I can tell you had a fun day while I was gone. I’m sorry I had to go, but I’m back now.” She continues to brush through his hair, and he didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling. “How about, to make up for it, I make you your favorite dinner?”
All the young tiger could offer was a gentle flicking of his tail, to which the reindeer giggled and once more rubbed her fingers along his head, keeping him close to her. He could hear her heartbeat, feel how soft she was, yet didn’t even want to think about moving, even with all his excitement to have her back. He just couldn’t seem to wake up all the way…
She didn’t seem to mind, wrapping her hands around him to keep his head rested against her chest and carrying him from the couch around to the kitchen table. Of course, his seat had a little pillow so he could sit up all the way, and she set him on it, laying him back and giving his forehead a kiss.
“Relax, Sweetie, just like that… Momma’s gonna make you dinner now. You sit and watch, alright? I’ll be right back.”
Another gentle kiss and rub to his head, the little tiger feeling a bit more coherent, enough to give her a bit of a nod. She looked so happy at this, overwhelmed with joy, and it made him, too, feel good. She turned, and he watched her go into the kitchen.
He could see all of her, of course, given neither she nor her wore anything around the house. Her fur was soft and short, her hips curving in such a wonderful way… Sweetie never felt embarrassed about looking at her, because she liked letting him look, and she liked looking at him too. When she was facing him, he saw her breasts, her eyes, her antlers. When she was turned away, he couldn’t help but look at her butt. His eyes lazily drifted over her, letting time pass as she cooked a dinner for him.
It took him a moment to even realize she had placed a plate of chicken fingers in front of him and was smiling at him expectantly. But she wasn’t bothered, instead giggling and petting his head. “Awh, silly Sweetie. Here, let me.” She used his fork to cut off a piece and hold it to his mouth, her other hand under it.
There was something… helpless about it. Opening his mouth, being fed bit after bit, chewing, swallowing, tasting his favorite dinner in the whole world being fed to him by his favorite person in the whole world. He once again felt love, overflowing and overpowering, love for his Momma who was so nice and sweet and kind…
She cleaned him up, once more kissing his forehead and just taking a moment to admire him before hooking his hands under his arms and lifting him up and against her again, this time full on. His head was against her chest, and his throbbie against her fur. “A silly groggy sweetie like this needs some sleep. Let’s get you to bed…”
He hardly notices movement, so enthralled by the feeling of her fur against all of him. Laid back against his sheets, his room cast only in the light of the nighttime moon outside, he could feel her hands gently petting along his belly, rubbing his cheek… He weakly smiled up at her, so beautiful and lovely, feeling his heart soar as she leaned down to give him a gentle, slow kiss. Her hand sunk lower, gently touching and sliding against his throbbie, feeling it twitch with excitement Sweetie only felt for her.
She let him lay, kissing down his ticklish neck, chest, soft belly fur… She nuzzled his throbbie with a gentle and heartfelt smile, letting it rest against her as his world bloomed in the most heavenly mix of pleasure and sleepiness. Her tongue, sliding from base to tip, leaving the tip of his throbbie against her tongue, smiling up at him as his eyes sunk further and further closed, relaxation simply too divine to ignore, drifting off without a single worry, confident and content knowing Momma would take care of everything…
He didn’t feel it as he slipped into his dreams, but she kissed his tip, knowing just how close he had gotten before nodding off and loving him all the more for it. Not even a little hump from her sweetie, despite all the love and adoration he was feeling completely for her. She lets her Sweetie rest, gently adjusting his throbbie to a comfortable position and pulling his blankets up over him, tucking him in snug and warm for the evening, once more kissing his forehead and just taking a moment to smile at his heavenly, content, sleeping face.
“Goodnight, Sweetie… Tomorrow’s a big day…”
…
…With a grunt, I fill the sock wrapped around my length, suppressing a growl from my throat as I hold eye contact with the naked lioness on my phone screen. My heart pounds in my ears for a moment, before the tension comes undone and the high passes. I catch my breath, mentally noting this go as a ‘two’ on my scale. But it was just a morning quickie anyway, more of a chore than anything, so I don’t get too disappointed.
I throw on my pajama pants, knowing I’ll just be taking them off a moment later to shower, and toss the used sock in the hamper. The shirt from the top of the pile works fine - I grab it, my jeans, underpants, fresh socks, and my hoodie just to move them all a few feet into the dorm room’s bathroom. I suppose I should feel lucky I get to have my own room and only have to share a bathroom with one other guy I didn’t know, rather than a whole floor of them.
As the weak, top-floor low-pressure water pours out of the shower head, I can’t help but find it hard to be enthused. I could probably shower slower if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to be late. Saying you almost slept through your 11 AM Calculus would be a sad lie, but a sadder truth.
So, sitting down in the second-floor classroom as the lecture began a few minutes later, I made a half-hearted attempt to learn something I had also tried to learn last semester, my click-pen’s push bit getting gnashed between my teeth and bending a bit worse than I had left it last class. It was an hour I’d have much rather spent on my phone, but eventually when the lack of enthusiasm from my classmates got to my teacher as he asked for any final questions, he simply sighed and dismissed us.
I hadn’t really even unpacked - I was quick out the door.
There wasn’t enough time between this class and the next to justify walking back to my dorm, but too much time to hog a seat at the dining hall. I elect to go to the hall anyway because at least there I could stuff my face, which I do for the next hour and a half. An alarm busts through my headphones to let me know class was only five minutes from now, and I put my plate away before making my way over to the nearby lecture hall. I take a seat in the middle-back and play with my phone rather than listen to a summary of a world event I didn’t care about.
I raised my eyes when he asked if there were any questions. When none came, he waved his hand, and I was the third out of the room.
Colleges have these paths winding through them, snaking through buildings and plazas and libraries and lawns. But the path through the woods by the parking lot had enough cover where I wouldn’t get busted for using my e-cig, so I walked until I found a secluded bench and sat down to turn it on and let the coils heat up. I don’t even know why I have my headphones in, as I hadn’t bothered to play any music between my lecture and here, so I begin to scroll through my phone as I wait to find something that fit the mood.
There was a… presence I hardly noticed at first. It’s not like I pay attention to people that walk by me, other than putting up a vague kind of distance with my mind and hoping they respect it. But something about the red I saw made me pause and look up to find a reindeer sitting beside me on the bench.
She looks around a beat, before adjusting her skirt and placing her purse in her lap. She was wearing the same red sweater and black tights, and for a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming.
I look forward, feeling odd about staring, and suck in a cloud of sweet, vaguely fruity mist. She turns her head to me, and my eyes glance back over, making a show of blowing the smoke away from her and watching her sigh at the non-verbal sass.
“That stuff isn’t any good for you,” she states plainly, her voice mature and purposefully stern - a verbal punishment, like a mother would give her son. It gets under my skin for a moment, and I feel a flash of indigence, before asking myself why I cared about what she thought and sinking back into my emotional muck.
“Yeah, they keep telling me that.”
“They?”
I turn my head, radiating the best ‘leave me alone’ aura I can. “Anyone. Everyone. Adults, doctors.”
“You’re in college,” she responds, level.
“So?”
“So that makes you an adult, too.”
There it is, that flare of anger again. I grit my teeth. “Well, it doesn’t feel like it.”
I suck out another cloud and blow it out through my nose, met only with silence.
Feeling like I was being ignored, and feeling myself get ticked off further, I turn to face her more head on. “People like you-”
…But, I find nothing. No one beside me. I quickly dart my gaze around, down both sides of the path, even checking the woods behind me before… sitting and wondering what the hell just happened. It took me a second to make sure that, yes, I really had just been talking with someone. Right? I reach over to feel the bench to see if it got even a little warm, but felt nothing.
I sit up, just… Unsure. Confused.
…A moment later, I click off my e-cig and get up to walk back to my dorm.
She wouldn’t leave my head. Not if I closed my door, not if I did homework or watched videos. She was there, she had to be. Wasn’t she? I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t. I talked to her, and I saw her on the train, too. Was she following me? She… had to be, because I wasn’t crazy.
I had gotten a good look at her. I knew what she looked like, I saw the details, you can’t see details in dreams. I pictured her, over and over, remembering her vividly, what she wore, her fur, her purse, her antlers…
My heart was pounding, and my pants were tight. I was blushing, panting… I had worked myself up, thinking of her…?
Frustrated and embarrassed, I hesitate, wondering just what was wrong with me… But my pants come off with the gentle jangle of my belt and my head hits my pillow, phone in hand.
I touch, and stroke, and feel along my length, every girl having her face, her body, her fur, her antlers, her eyes, her hips-!
My gasp catches in my throat, my orgasm coming quicker than I thought, strong and wet and tight and full of her… For a moment I’m knocked off my mental balance, laying there, feeling so sensitive and vulnerable and helpless to this complete stranger. It felt silly to give it a number at all, it… she, was doing something to me, something else and something new.
I sit up and realize how… crazy, I sounded.
I resolve to take another shower, and just… move on. Go back to normal.
…I do my best to believe… she never happened.