Good Boy Thomas - Part 1

When most people looked at Thomas, they saw a good boy. He wasn't the most attractive fourteen-year-old around, spending just a little too much time at the computer, but he was comfortably in the cute category. Felines in general were graceful and handsome, their classic features ingrained in the society, but add in vibrant, youthful eyes and a delightful little smile that almost made adults swoon, and you had a cute boy.

His tiger coat was colorful and the lines were sharp, his front a milky white and the fur just the right length to make him fluffy but not so long it required extra attention to keep it nice. In fact, if he just exercised and got rid of the extra fat, he'd be the prime example of a tiger. But even then, some would suggest his pudginess only made him that much more adorable.

In school, he was neither gifted nor a slouch. He excelled in a few subjects, was deplorable in some and just plain average in most. He loved drawing so art class was a cinch but didn't have a head for math so most natural sciences were a mystery to him. He was well liked by teachers and most students found him perfectly okay even if they weren't necessarily friendly all the time.

All in all, Thomas was a perfectly normal and good boy.

This was, in truth, despite everything.

His father had passed away suddenly last year and his life had changed dramatically since. He didn't show any of it outwardly but inside he still mourned his father deeply and part of him still wished that it was his father coming home every time the front door opened. The school counselor used to say that everyone grieved in their own way and time and Thomas just seemed to grieve for a very long time.

Thomas' mother, Julie, seemed to have moved on very quickly. He knew that wasn't true, of course, he could hear her cry every few nights. And on their anniversary and his father's birthday, she was a wreck that barely got out of bed. But less than a month after his death, she'd been out looking for a new man to fill the void which had earned her a certain reputation around the town.

While the reputation didn't matter to Thomas in the least, he couldn't help but despise her for what she was doing. It felt like she was trying to replace his father and didn't care with whom. In the year since his death, she had tried to introduce at least three different men as her new mate but none of them lasted very long. So far, the record had been a month and they'd met sporadically at best and Thomas knew she'd been seeing others at the same time.

She'd also started drinking. At first it had been moderate, isolated to the odd weekend and day off work. Now there was barely a week that went by without her getting drunk in the middle of the week and spending half the weekend down at one of the local pubs. Whatever chance at a career she had was completely gone and it was only thanks to Thomas complaining that she wasn't falling behind on bills and other debts.

Despite local laws barring anyone from under the age of 20 in pubs and bars, Thomas had become so well known in his mother's regular haunts, that no-one batted an eye at the teenager sitting at the bar, drinking a soda and scribbling away on some new art project or another. Some patrons had even made it a point to talk to him regularly, even becoming quite close with him, and in some ways, Thomas had learned to see them as an extended, typically drunk family.

When his mother wasn't available, emotionally or physically, he took comfort in that someone in the local pub would be.

There was Brett, middle aged accountant from a firm in the big city. He always smiled and was never one to shy away from patting you on the back and give you a pep talk. "Life is what you make of it, boy. Make the most of it!" he'd say cheerfully.

Tina, thirty something housewife who escaped her husband's alternating neglect and abuse, always doted on him and acted like a second mother. If he was sad, she'd kiss him on the cheek and sooth him with a lullaby. "You're better than all this, the world just hasn't realized yet. But it will." she'd say to encourage him.

Or Markus, a former soldier from a country in the east who escaped persecution and came here. He can't stand any sort of whining and would tell you to power through it all, make your own way if need be. "Oh, crying feel good, at first, no? But it is weakness. Never show weakness." he'd suggest in his broken English.

The most fatherly of the lot, though, was Johnny, the owner and bartender of hole in the wall just around the corner from where Thomas lived. And the place his mother most often frequented. He'd talk to him and offer him advice on all sorts of things and, since he had a strict policy about drinking on the job, often the only other sober person in the joint in the evening. "I know things are tough, kid, but you'll get through it. You're strong, like me!" he'd joke.

All in all, they were a pretty good bunch even if they were drunk most of the time when Thomas saw them. But that was just a part of his life he had accepted and it beat sitting home alone in the apartment every weekend when his mother was out on tour, as he'd call it. He'd probably spent more nights home alone than was healthy for such a young teenager and there were weekends when he didn't even see his mother at all once she left on Friday until she came home from work on the next Monday.

Once she'd called him in the middle of a Sunday night and said she wouldn't be home in a few days and he'd have to fend for himself. Days like that, he was glad he had the regulars at the pub or he'd probably have lost his mind.

They were all friends of his mother as well, having gotten to know her over the course of the last year. In the case of Brett and Markus, intimately as well and he suspected Johnny had gotten some private meetings as well. Thomas didn't hold that against them, he had no beef with any of the men his mother slept with. None of this was their fault and if they didn't hurt her, they could do whatever they pleased.

And so life continued, shambling as it did.

"Hey, Thomas. Tom. Tommy!" A voice called out from the far end of the bar, a large oaf of a wolf the source. Thomas looked up from his sketch pad where he'd spent the better part of fifteen minutes scribbling away. His eyes met the wolf's who immediately continued: "How's the portrait coming of our lovely Tina?" Trying to keep the art hidden from Tina, he turned the pad just enough so the wolf could see.

He immediately began laughing, nearly falling off his chair, and the group he was with soon joined in. "What the... why's the portrait making him laugh?" That voice belonged to a tall, slim cheetah sitting opposite from the young Thomas, posing as best she could. Tina wasn't normally vain but the offer to pose had been irresistible. She wasn't the sharpest tool in the box but it wasn't hard to guess something foul was afoot between the tiger and wolf.

Before Thomas had a chance to pull back, she reached over the bar corner and snatched the paper. A bit surprised by the cheetah's speed, he could only flail in a desperate attempt to get the paper back but it was out of his reach before he really had any chance.

When she saw the portrait, her eyes narrowed and an instinctual growl erupted from her. She had been promised a gorgeous portrait but what she saw was a caricature; her head abnormally large with puffy lips and her breasts was nearly twice the size of her head, not to mention her legs that seemed to go on forever. They nearly didn't fit on the paper.

"Brett, you son of a bitch!" she yelled which only made the group laugh all that much harder. Instead she turned her attention to the now sheepish looking Thomas and pointed an accusing finger at him. "He put you up to this, didn't he? Didn't he?" Not wanting to get into more trouble, the young boy merely nodded and tried to hide his face even more. Mostly out of shame but also because he couldn't help but to smile.

While storming off to confront Brett, the previously mentioned wolf, Thomas looked up at the group on the far end of the bar and smiled more. He knew Tina wasn't really upset, of course, and secretly hoped that she appreciated the piece. He'd only enlarged parts of her that he knew she was proud of; her breasts and legs. Wait until she was drunk enough, and she couldn't stop singing their praises herself.

But it was all part of the routine. Tina and Brett would start arguing, Markus would stand by the side, chuckling to himself and eventually Johnny would defuse the whole situation by suggesting they get a refill, on the house. Well, he said it was on the house but Thomas was certain he added it to the bill anyway.

It was pure coincidence that Thomas was looking at the clock when the door suddenly opened and a new face stepped into the warmth. A little after 9 PM, a time that he'd always remember for the rest of his life.

Standing in the doorway was a bear, about a foot and a half taller than Thomas and about sixty in age from cursory glance. Her black fur was faded in parts and speckled with gray, especially around the muzzle, and her body bore the weight of time with thick thighs and waist, drooping breasts and her blue eyes were a bit dulled, her sight no doubt slightly impaired.

Dressed in a long gray coat, much of this wasn't apparent until she removed it. She probably hadn't decided whether she was going to stay or not until the last second but something had convinced her. While she hung up her coat, everyone got a better look at her clothing; a blue silk blouse, a tight, black leather skirt that clung to her ample behind and red heels.

Thomas knew the type though he was surprised to see her so early. She was what he thought of as a hunter, someone who was out looking for someone to go home with and it didn't much matter who. And obviously, someone had caught her eye and unless already spoken for, there was a large chance someone was getting lucky with minimum effort.

When she walked by him, he could smell the booze on her breath and the flowery scent of women's perfume.

Johnny was the first to address her, welcoming her to his establishment and introducing himself before asking for her preference. When she spoke, her accent turned quite a few heads. It was thickly eastern, very similar to Markus'. "Hello, barkeep. I will have a large beer." This immediately caught Markus' attention but it wasn't quite the joyful expression one might expect from running into a countryman unexpectantly.

Instead, Thomas could see his eyes turn from exuberant to fierce and for a moment, he thought the former soldier might cause a scene. But the Markus he knew would never do it and eventually the one he knew won over, returning to his friends and resuming the laughter. No doubt Markus had recognized something in the accent that suggested they hadn't been on the same side in the war.

Markus had always been a strange bear since the day he arrived. Thomas had always put it down to trauma from the war and seeing it resurface kind of scared him. But the new woman didn't even seem to register that there was another bear in the bar, a rare enough sight in this country and in such a small hole in the wall. So it probably wasn't he that had caught her attention.

Once she received the beer, she focused entirely on it, closing her eyes and enjoying the foaming brew. This gave Thomas the perfect opportunity to draw her. He normally asked permission before drawing someone but he figured it'd be impolite to ask a stranger to pose. And besides, it was only small sketches. He couldn't quite put his finger on why she intrigued him, perhaps it was just her posture. It was practically regal and stood apart from all the slouching figures surrounding her.

Eventually the regulars started getting used to her presence and a few even dared approach her. She entertained them as best she could with her fragmented English but she either chased them away or they got tired and left on their own. Someone bought her another beer at some point but struck out just the same.

When Johnny came over to refill Thomas' glass, he leaned near and whispered: "You're a pretty good judge of character, Tommy, what do you make of our new guest? You've been sketching her long enough." Feeling a bit embarrassed about being caught sketching, he quickly shuffled his finished pieces under his pad then looked up at Johnny. "I dunno. I thought she might be here for..." he took a moment to find the right word. "... company. But if she is, she has to be pretty bad since she's chasing away safe bets." Nodding agreeingly, Johnny leaned on the bar and looked over the strange woman. "Maybe she's new to the country and doesn't know how it works here...?" Thomas continues uncertainly.

But Johnny shook his head and gave the young tiger a gentle clap on the cheek. "No, Tommy, in a bar at this hour, it works the same way all over the world." He laughed as he left Thomas to his soda and sketching, proud that he had given the young boy some worldly wisdom.

Time passed and the people trying to make a pass at the woman dwindled until it was only repeat customers trying their luck again. At the same time, as the clock neared half past ten, the crowd began thinning out until it was just the most local of locals. Thomas himself had received more than his fair share of hints from Johnny to go home as it was abundantly clear his mother wasn't coming back tonight.

And he had just decided to agree with Johnny when he heard movement next to him, someone sitting down on the stool next to his, and his nostrils was filled with the scent of flowers. Or at least a chemical recreation of said smell. The strongest smell was jasmine and he so loved that flower.

Having turned to start putting his supplies away, he found himself staring into light blue, cloudy eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul. "Tell me, young man. Is it common in your country for children to be in... bars?" Forgetting to breathe, he stared back for what felt like an eternity until he felt an urge to blink repeatedly. "Uh, what? No. I guess... no. No, it's not." The bear finally turned her gaze away from him and she gulped down a mouthful of beer then stared straight ahead. He wondered what she saw that he couldn't and became slightly envious.

He completely missed that her hand idly moved over and grabbed his sketch pad, sliding it over to herself and flipping it over. By the time Thomas knew what was going on, it was too late to hide the evidence of his misdoings. "Oh, hey, wait, you can't look at those." he whimpered lowly. But she paid him no heed, flipping through his sketches ranging from banal doodling to more serious attempts at art. He could see she was scanning over them all, occasionally catching on something but eventually moving on.

"You are quite talented young boy." she murmured under her breath. Croaking out an appreciative thank you, he suddenly realized what she was about to come across. But his sketches of her didn't seem to bother her at all, looking over them much like he had his previous works. "Do you often draw... other people at the bar?" He shook his head when her eyes were briefly on him but she didn't seem to require any other answer so he kept quiet.

When she had seen all there was to see in the pad, she closed it and tenderly handed it back to him. He accepted it and they both held on to it for a moment, looking at each other. "Then I am pleased to have inspired you, wonderful boy. What is your name?" Thomas hesitated, knowing full well the few rules his mother had given him about being in the bar, first and foremost to never talk to the strangers unless she was there. "Thomas. Thomas Keen." he eventually dared reply. "A pleasure, Mr. Keen. I am Natasha Mikhailova." Once he had his pad squared away in his bag, she offered him her hand. He shook it gladly and smiled at her.

He couldn't put his finger on why he liked her. And he felt... something. Perhaps it was just the thrill of someone new taking an interest in you.

"Join me for a drink, perhaps?" she suggested innocently. His glass had run dry a while ago and he looked over pleadingly at Johnny who had sworn to cut him off. He looked at him with a look of resignation before starting to pour the lady another beer, a smaller one, and cracking open another can of cola. When he handed them over, he warned that it was the last order of the night and that they should both get ready to go home. "It is Friday, no? Why you close so early?" Natasha dared question.

But Johnny wasn't listening, already wiping down the bar and collecting glasses and other refuse from the guests that had already left, urging the stragglers to get going as well. The place had already mostly emptied out, people having either gone home or on to other pastures. Tina had left an hour earlier, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek that made him blush and asking to be drawn properly soon.

Feeling her breasts press against his arm always made him blush and he could never say no to the cheetah.

Tonight had offered up someone new to talk with, though. Looking at Natasha, he couldn't help but to wonder about her history and so he began to inundate her with questions in rapid succession. She answered as politely and calmly as she could, sometimes asking him to move on to the next question instead of answering.

He'd been right about her origins and she freely told about how she'd been on the opposite side of Markus in the war, not that they knew each other or anything. She'd served in the military as a minor officer but never near the frontlines, being more of a glorified babysitter. She left the country only recently to be closer to her son who was now a prominent businessman in the west though he didn't seem to want much to do with her.

She had retired several years before her time, when the old guard was politely asked to move for a younger generation that had nothing but disdain for the wars of old. When the nation changed, she saw no reason to stay and instead pursued her son her, hoping to make him realize what he was missing.

Thomas did vaguely remember a moving van in the neighborhood only a week or two ago and he'd marveled at the old furniture that had been carried out of it and into a complex not far from his own. "How come you moved here? I mean, this neighborhood. You said your son lives in the city center." the young boy asked carefully. She looked at him with mournful eyes, looking down in her drink for a moment before replying. "My son still wants nothing to do with me. He blames me for the war and his father's dying. So this was... best I could do."

Somehow that hit home harder than he had thought it would, making him think of his mother and whether this was how they would end up one day. Without the war, hopefully. Feeling the need to do something, he reached out and gently held her arm. "It's okay. I'm sure he'll come around." he offered. Feeling his touch on her arm, she reached with the other to gently hold his hand, nodding with a forced smile. "Maybe you are right, boy."

The conversation had turned darker than he had anticipated and he was kind of surprised she was so open about it. Especially about being on the wrong side of the war, at least according to current consensus. It wouldn't earn her many friends and he had a feeling she and Markus would never be friends.

Suddenly she grabbed her glass and drained the remains into her mouth in one go before slamming the glass down on the counter, grunting out loudly. "Right. Now, young man, I must ask you to walk me home." It wasn't a request, judging by the tone, and while Thomas hastily finished off his soda, Natasha pulled out a handful of bills, leaving them on the counter for Johnny. It was impossible to miss that it was exact change. Then she stood up and went to grab her coat, still not expecting anything but obedience from the young tiger.

And Thomas obeyed. Because he was a good boy. Also because he was intrigued and was going home anyway.

Outside it was a chilly October evening. The stars were out and the moon shone brightly just above the horizon. At some point during the evening it had rained and the ground was still wet, puddles dotting the pavement, the air still crisp and heavy with the scent of wet dirt and rotting leaves.

Fall had come suddenly after a very warm summer and people were still digging out their coats and thicker jackets to keep warm. Natasha had come prepared, though, pulling a hat out of the coat pocket and pulling it down snugly over her head. Then she buried one hand in her coat pocket and turned to look at the young tiger standing next to her, offering him her arm. "Come, come, you do not want this old lady to walk home alone, yes?" though she framed it as a question, Thomas took it as the order it was.

With his bag of art supplies over one shoulder, he hooked his arm on to hers then gestured vaguely in front of him. "I don't know where you live so... lead the way?" Almost immediately, she corrected him. "Ma'am. You can call me ma'am." Chuckling at her words, at first not taking her seriously, he then rethought the tone of her voice and the look she gave him after and nodded, clearing his throat quickly. "Yes. Of course. Uh, lead the way, ma'am." She nodded, pleased with the response then began guiding him through the streets while maintaining a conversation. This time about him.

She told him that she knew of his situation from the other patrons and had a few choice words about his mother. This irked him, for some reason. He often berated his mother but was never quite comfortable when others did. But he kept his mouth shut. She continued about how it never would've happened where she was from, women were made of sturdier stuff and always put their family first.

Thomas bit back a question about her current relationship with her son but decided it wasn't the time for such a question. Instead he politely answered her questions, figuring it was only fair after how honest she had been with him.

When she suddenly stopped, it took him a moment to realize why. "This is where I live now." she said in a hushed voice. All the buildings nearby looked similar with their gray facades and red roofs. They had all been built in the same decade when functionality was boss over design and there was little one could do to give them a spark. This had, in turn, earned the neighborhood a rather negative stamp but despite that, wherever you looked, you saw happy people and lots of families. Most windows were starting to be filled with Halloween decorations which gave the whole place a festive feel.

"Oh. Right." Thomas croaked when he realized he hadn't replied. Turning her head with a quizzical look on her face, she studied him up and down before motioning towards the door. "Do you wish to come inside?" The immediate instinct was to say yes. He was facing another lonely night at home unless his mother had struck out completely and that practically never happened. But the many sermons about stranger danger had left their mark and he eventually shook his head, trying to smile. "Thanks but... just in case my mom comes home, I should be there, ma'am."

Her sudden shift in mood was palpable, the expression on her face got more serious and she seemed to straighten her back even more. The visage of a kind old lady was gone in an instant and he could definitely see traces of the military in her. "Do not be ridiculous, boy. Come now." she practically spat. "There is nothing waiting for you at home." They often said truth hurt the most and it was something the young tiger experienced now. As much as he wanted her to be wrong, for her words to be manipulative and hollow, the truth was clear enough.

Instead of waiting for a reply, she walked to the door and opened it up, revealing the unlit staircase within. "Come, come. You should not spend tonight alone." Staring at him fiercely, the gray in her eyes had seemed to vanish and he felt himself move before he had consciously agreed to it. When he passed by her, she patted him gently on the head, nodding approvingly. "Good boy." Despite uttering only two words, it was enough to make him blush and her touch made him swallow hard. He had no idea why he obeyed her so eagerly but it felt strangely good.

When the door slowly closed behind him, Natasha sped ahead of him and up the stairs. Following closely behind, she seemed to navigate the dark stairs expertly even in the dark while Thomas stumbled occasionally. Eventually, a few stairs up, they stopped in front of one of two doors. Without hesitation, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, revealing that it was unlocked the whole time. Thomas wondered for a moment if he should tell her to keep it locked but decided against it for the moment.

Ushered into the dark apartment, a whole slew of new sensations assaulted him. It was eerily quiet, even the silence somehow felt muffled. And it smelled dusty and old. And foreign, there were spices in the air that he'd never smelled before and other scents that hinted of flowers unknown to him. The little light that managed to find its way in through the curtains revealed old and worn but luxurious furniture.

All of this had come with her when she moved so she had to have been a pretty important person back home if she could afford it, not to mention being able to cart it across a continent. Some of this had to be heirlooms and quite old too.

Before he had any chance to take it all in, he felt a hand on his back pushing him forward, towards the nearest door. He couldn't hear the clacking of her heels anymore nor the rustle of her coat so while he had been standing there, looking her apartment over, she had silently undressed.

Beyond the door was a bedroom, he could just make out the bed and some desk by the wall. She kept pushing him ahead, closer to the bed and only removed her hand once he was by the side. "There, sit down." Her voiced had regained the sweet, lady like edge but it none the less felt like an order. Grabbing the handle on his bag, he slid the strap from his shoulder then placed it carefully on the floor, out of the way, before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Natasha wasted no time, kneeling in front of him and starting to untie his shoes carefully. He felt like he was a few years younger and being mothered and that made him blush even deeper. Other boys might have argued, tried to say they could do it on their own, but the attention felt welcome. When the first shoe left his feet, the sock soon following, a shiver ran though him and he felt almost ready to cry.

It didn't take long for the other shoe to join, the socks balled up neatly and placed in the shoes. She then shuffled in closer, their eyes meeting for a moment before she looked down at his jacket, quickly unzipping it and starting to pull it off his form. He did what he could to alleviate the process, lifting his arms and pulling them out of the arms.

With the jacket in hand, she stood up and left the room. Sounds from outside suggested she was hanging it up near the door. Thomas looked down and found his shoes must have come with as well since they were no longer there.

He missed her. In only that short span of time, he felt like his world was taken from him and he ached for her presence again. The fact that they were going to spend the night in the same bed didn't bother him. Or, at least, he assumed they were. The apartment was only slightly bigger than theirs but he doubted she would've taken him to the large bed if he was meant to sleep in a guest room elsewhere.

And her scent was very strong in this room. From somewhere in the room was the source of her perfume and several others, very similar to the one she was wearing. The bed practically reeked of her and he doubted the sheets were clean and he could just make out the bedside tables were adorned with multiple frames. Not the sort of thing you'd put in your guest room.

Suddenly what little light there was disappeared, shut out by the now closed door. Though feline night vision had slowly been lost through evolution to what they were now, there was still enough left to allow his eyes to adjust to where he could see faint outlines and anything moving.

She was still standing by the door, looking at him as if she could see in the dark. Then she came towards him, her movements that of a predator which briefly made the young tiger shiver. But when she was close, she reached out and searched for him, finding his shoulder and using that to guide her.

When she sat down next to him, he felt the mattress shift and tilt him towards her. He was already having a hard time seeing her as the defenseless old lady that had walked into the pub but when his body rested against hers, he knew nothing could be further from the truth. She supported him effortlessly, almost willingly and she didn't even budge from his weight. The hand closest to him dug its way in under his sweater and t-shirts, pressing the palm flat against his back and starting to rub gently.

Then she said something in a language he didn't recognize. He guessed it was her native tongue but it didn't seem like what Markus offered up every now and then, often in the way of curses. But what she said sounded... almost loving. Sweet and caring, perhaps. Like someone cooing to a baby.

Suddenly he felt her other hand on his front, grabbing his sweater and starting to pull it up, the t-shirt getting caught in the move as well. The hand on his back moved to grab the sweater, helping to pull it up and over his head. Without being asked, he straightened his arms above his head then slid them out quickly.

Working in the dark, she managed to untangle the t-shirt from the sweater then folded them both, carefully placing one atop the other on a chair by the bed. Then her hands reached down to his hips, nimble fingers quickly undoing and unzipping his pants.

That was when he first realized she'd had more of an effect on him than he knew. A small bulge had formed at his crotch, his manhood having reacted to her closeness in the dark at some point. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to think of something else and mentally preparing himself for what she'd say.

But it never came. Instead she only whispered to him to raise his hips off the bed and he obeyed instantly. His jeans slid off after some tugging and he was thankful that his underwear stayed on this time. If she had seen or felt his predicament, she made no mention of it and, like his sweater, she folded his pants neatly and put them on the chair.

It was impossible not to marvel at the precision she was working with in the dark. She could either see well in the dark or she just knew the room down to the slightest detail. Or a combination of both.

When her hands were finally free, she rubbed them briefly before leaning in, her muzzle not more than an inch from his. "Come, come, sweet boy, let's get you into bed." He was glad for the dark as he was blushing so much he had to look like a tomato, even through his fur. Standing up, he tried his best to keep from touching her, which was difficult given how close they were.

Not bothering to look, he could hear her pulling the covers away, working hard to keep it neat then rolling it up at the foot of the bed. Then she folded the duvet over and patted the bed. "There, sweet boy, lie down." For some reason, being called 'sweet boy' made him smiled broadly, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he managed to reply with a thank you as he slid into the bed and pulled the duvet over himself.

He'd never been one to complain about his living situation but suddenly he knew his bed wasn't much to brag about. The feel of the sheets against his fur and the scent of her suddenly enveloping him caused a slight purr to become audible in the darkness. This seemed to make Natasha laugh, an almost dainty sound. "See? Much better than home alone?" He hadn't even thought of his mother since they entered the stairs and it didn't seem particular pressing to be home, waiting for her anymore.

Then she walked away and he followed her movements closely, seeing her stop by what seemed to be a wardrobe. His night vision wasn't good enough to see much but it was enough to see her open then slowly starting to take her clothes off, hanging them up very carefully. Her hand seemed to search through the wardrobe for empty hangers of specific types, distinguishing them by touch alone, before threading her clothes on them.

For a moment, the thought that she might come to bed entirely naked wormed its way into his mind and he wasn't sure what to think. While he hadn't thought of it actively, parts of him were certainly looking forward to the notion, his slick flesh already fully out of its sheath and growing by the second. But another part of him was worried, scared even, as he had been taught in no uncertain terms that sex with a stranger was one of the most dangerous things there was.

Thus he was partly relieved when he saw her put something on. He wasn't sure what it was, probably some sort of nightgown by the looks of things, but it could also just be a very big t-shirt. Of course, he doubted very much that she was the sort of woman who wore a t-shirt to bed.

When she finally settled into bed, he expected the whole ordeal to be over. That she would just crawl into the bed on the other side and fall asleep. He felt her weight again shift him slightly towards her but he kept his eyes on the ceiling. But he could feel her move next to him, the mattress constantly shifting underneath him.

Suddenly he felt the duvet lift off him and her body slid in close to him. It all happened so fast he barely had time to react before her leg swung over his body and her weight settled down over his stomach. He tried to get up instinctively but her hands gripped his shoulders firmly and pushed him back down, most of his head disappearing into the large pillow.

Then she hushed him gently, holding him down until she was confident he wasn't about to try and escape again. Her hands loosened their grip gradually then began to slide down his front. His chest was rising and falling faster now, his mind racing with both dread and anticipation, the whole situation nearly surreal.

With seemingly no shame, her hands traced over his chest, pressing the palms down hard to feel his breathing. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say something but instead her hands began to move again, slipping further down his chest and to the top his stomach. Then she reached behind her, shifting her weight gently and he could feel a wet patch on his stomach, left behind by her grinding hips.

It was impossible not to cry out when she reached behind her and cupped his package, giving the bulge a firm squeeze. His whole body bucked, pressing up against her. "Hush, sweet boy. No sound." He gasped softly after receiving her command, unsure of how he was going to obey this as she kept massaging his cock, squeezing and rubbing gently.

He tried to speak, finding his lips and throat quite dry and only after swallowing multiple times did he manage to get the words out. "I've... I've never..." Her hand easily covered his muzzle, clamping it shut with surprising force. Somehow her eyes seemed to shine slightly in the dark when looking down on him, hushing him gently. "I know, sweet boy. I know."

Like most teenagers, he was deftly familiar with the concept of masturbating and it was something he considered himself quite skilled at. At times, he couldn't even wait for his mother to leave the apartment, locking himself away in his room to enjoy it. But it hadn't prepared him, not even a little bit, for how it felt having someone else touch him.

As her hand dug into his underwear, closing around that already firm, slick shaft of his, he nearly came right then and there. Only by biting his tongue did he manage to keep from groaning out loudly, his hands digging into the bed to hold on. "Ah, I miss this so much." Feeling her warm, furred fingers start to run the length of his penis, his hips began moving involuntarily and he felt thick wads of precum pump onto her hand and into his own fur.

By no means was he well endowed. A doctor would probably say he was perfectly normal sized for a tiger his age. Even so he often felt small when he compared himself to the guys in the locker room or the videos he saw online. In a world where you could measure yourself against the length of a horse or the knot of a dog, it was hard to feel adequate.

This didn't seem to bother Natasha much at all, her hand keeping up the slow pace she had begun with, letting his hips do half the work while she focused on squeezing and releasing his length.

Soon, even Thomas began to let go of any worries. If she was going to comment about his size, she would have by now. And it seemed like a futile point, this had all happened without his input and he doubted he had anything to say about it. Learning to enjoy it for what it was, his breathing soon calmed down and he managed to loosen his grip on the mattress, daring instead to grab her thighs.

It was probably the purring starting back up that signaled Natasha to move on with her plan. She released his shaft, smiling softly at the muffled whimper coming from the young boy while she lifted herself off him and shuffling backwards on her knees, her hips hovering above his. Then it was just the easy matter of lifting her gown up so no cloth was in the way before lowering herself down on his crotch.

Guiding his throbbing, pink flesh to stand up with one hand, the other resting comfortably on his chest while he held on to her legs, his tip pressed in between her moist folds, spreading her apart easily and sinking further in. She kept her eyes trained on the young boy, smiling warmly as his face contorted in pleasure from being inside but managing to keep quiet.

Yes, Thomas was a good boy.

Not waiting after she felt all of him inside her, she began to ride him very gently, only shifting herself back and forth enough for his cock to shift an inch or two inside of her. There wasn't much more to play with but that was how she liked it.

When she had been put on 'administrative leave' from the military, her career had ended and her supply of ready and willing young cadets had dried up. It had always been one of the perks in the military back home that you got the pick of the litter for your own pleasure and anyone who disobeyed a direct order, could be thrown in prison for disobedience. It had all worked very nicely until the social changes had happened. Put under the microscope, she couldn't afford to entice young boys to crawl into her bed as it was still strictly illegal outside of the military.

Feeling a young boy between her legs, inside of her, holding on to her, it was invigorating. It wasn't what she had been looking for that night, laws concerning such things were even stricter here than back home. But seeing the young boy so at home in the bar and with the people, learning his mother had moved on hours ago and was probably not coming back that night, she knew he'd be easily swayed.

Because he was a good boy. And she would make him her good boy.

The sex was hardly emotional. Or particularly loving. It was two bodies enjoying each other fully. Not that Thomas had much to compare to, holding on to her for dear life as her passage squeezed and stroked his sensitive flesh. He had closed his eyes long ago, unable to keep them open with the pleasure coursing through his body, spine acting like a lightning rod and channeling them all up to his head.

When she began grunting softly, he figured it was okay for him to do the same, opening his mouth just a little to let his moans escape silently. No reprimand came, his moans seemingly still counting as no sound or she was so caught up in the act they didn't even register.

Soon he felt her speeding up the rocking, even lifting herself off him a bit while rolling her hips back then pressing back down when she moved forward, grinding herself down against his crotch. It wasn't an insignificant amount of weight and pressure that came down on him, pressing him hard into the mattress and it only got worse the faster she went. Soon the bed began creaking and complaining loudly, the headboard bumping into the wall rhythmically.

It was too late to do anything except cry out softly when he realized what was happening, his eyes popping open to realize he had broken the silence between them. But even her stern glance while her body kept using him wasn't enough to keep him from pressing his hips up into her. His body was reacting more out of instinct than anything when the orgasm hit, bucking up against her to get deeper.

She pressed a hand to his muzzle, again shutting it for him before his cry got too loud, feeling the young boy spray her insides with his cum. His body twitched and squirmed under her but she never stopped moving, working even faster and harder than before to reach her own climax, quickly shifting her free hand down between her legs to stroke herself, teasing her clitoris.

With an expert hand, she drove herself to climax rapidly, clenching herself around his sensitive flesh, eliciting a muffled whimper from the kitten who had spent himself fully within seconds.

He was a good boy. But they'd have to work on his stamina and technique.

Basking in the afterglow of her orgasm, Natasha collapsed over the young boy, her head hitting the pillow face first next to his head, gasping deeply while trying to calm her breathing. Fingers still on her nub and her hand over his muzzle, she stayed like that for what felt like a short eternity. Trying to calm her breathing and relax her body, she didn't really pay any heed to the movement of the boy under her. She could feel his hands still on her thighs and his chest rising and falling but he made no fuss, no attempt to get out from under her or take advantage.

She'd have to reward that.

Only once she felt herself back in control did she lift herself off him, his now softening member flopping out of her together with their combined juices, soaking into his fur. He'd shrink back into the protective sheath soon but her scent would be on him for quite a while. Still in a state of euphoria, she looked over her new charge and smiled at the expression on his face, caressing him softly on the cheek and realizing only once it was done it was the same hand she'd used on herself.

His eyes were open and staring straight up but there was no intent behind it, he wasn't averting his eyes or anything like that. No doubt his mind was filled with thoughts, both good and bad, and she knew this was the perfect opportunity. "Precious little boy. Did you enjoy that?" Playing it like it was all for his benefit, she leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, acting like the loving mother she knew he missed.

This seemed to rouse him from his thoughts and he turned his head to look at her, blinking a few times while a pinkish hue started to rise on his cheeks. "Ah... uh..." he stammered out loudly, licking his dry lips in between. "Yeah... yes... ma'am" His voice trembled slightly, his body no doubt still recovering from the first orgasm brought on by someone else. The expression on his face was nothing but loving, eyes lit up with cheer from the experience.

Settling down next to him, lying on her side, she delicately coaxed him on to his side, facing her, then began pulling him in. It was more of a suggestion, though, letting him wriggle in against her on his own. With a hand on the back of his head, she pressed his head against her chest while the other snuck down to pull his boxers up properly so he wouldn't get his mess all over the sheets. "I think we must buy you proper sleeping clothes." she mused to herself more than him. When she didn't receive a response, she dared to peer down briefly at him and saw that his eyes were shut and his breathing was subdued.

Asleep, then. She smirked and stroked his back softly for a while longer, ensuring he was asleep before she carefully returned him to his back. Pushing back from him, she too laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking to herself about her plans. With Thomas firmly in her grip, life her wouldn't be so bad after all.

Thomas was a good boy.

V. 1.00