Hot Single Moms Are Looking For You!
It was just a stupid advertisement, right? Sure, his mom was single, and drop dead gorgeous, but it had no bearing on the advertisement, right? ...so why was the number counting down?
** Hot Single Moms Are Looking For You!** announced the advertisement cheerfully as it popped up into the desktop, hijacking focus from the reply Lucky was trying to post to a comment on his favorite mixed fiction site. Scowling, he stabbed the X with the mouse pointer, clicked back into the field, and resumed where he'd left off, the topic at hand not quite taking his focus away from a particular thought: he had a popup blocker _and_an advertisement blocker installed on his browser, so how did the popup get through? He'd have to run antivirus later to see if he'd somehow picked up adware on some page or other.
Shortly after he finished typing, he glanced over the post for errors, and finding none, user 1LuckySunuvaGun fired it off into the realm of the internet. Tabbing over to another window, he refreshed the page to see if anyone else had commented on the piece he'd uploaded that morning.
** Hot Single Moms Are Looking For You!** sprang up onto his monitor again, the [Click Here!] button flashing white repeatedly as it overtook the browser window's focus. Lucky gave a bitter snort and clicked the red X again. "Hot Single Moms can blow me," he grunted, scratching at the base of his nubby horns under the mop of blue-black hair atop his head. He was (mostly) a goat, which had confused the hell out of a lot of people, considering his mother Denise was a "blue" Abyssinian cat. He had a few of her traits--primarily, that his coat was short and smooth, his tail was long and uniform in shape, and his fur was the same shade of dark, ticked blue-black with a cream-colored underbelly; but he also had the thick nail-caps on his fingers and toes, common to goats and other hoofed morphs, and both his hair and the tuft of longer fur on his chin matched his father. His horns hadn't yet grown more than an inch, a little odd for a 14 year old goat, but it supposedly ran in the family. According to Denise, his father'd been a handsome young Dutch Landrace named Jens she'd met on senior vacation to Sweden when she'd gone into heat while in her hotel room and jumped the poor fellow Room Service sent up with her dinner.
When her heat didn't come back three months later, the doctors that looked her over said that the possibility of her getting knocked up by the goat had been a statistical improbability. As such, Kenneth might've been what she named him, but everyone knew him as "Lucky". Denise and Jens kept in touch, but Jens got hitched to his high school sweetheart a few years later, who was as far as Lucky knew perfectly fine (and even amused) by what had happened. He had a few half-siblings at this point. Denise wasn't dating anyone, as she'd devoted herself to raising her son.
Flipping across tabs on his browser, Lucky brought up a video site, thumbing through for something to watch. As he clicked a video, the browser window lost focus.
** Hot Single Moms Are 25 Miles From You!** leapt onto the monitor, this time in garish yellow on a black background, and without a [CLICK HERE!] to accompany it. He ground his teeth and exited the window, hitting play on the video.
Halfway through a ten minute montage of people getting scared shitless and reacting in hilariously panicked ways, the video was abruptly interrupted with yet another popup.
Hot Single Moms Are 10 Miles From You! it flickered cheerfully, red outlines flashing over the yellow letters slightly off-rhythm. "The fuck," he snarled, and stabbed the button, closing the browser window and pulling up an antivirus scan. This was getting ridiculous.
Leaving it to run, Lucky got up, scratching at his shoulder and feeling his stomach rumble. His room was always hotter than the others because of his computer and it being at the far end of the A/C loop, and he was alone in the house, so he was shirtless, wearing a pair of denim cutoff shorts that dangled just below his knees as they hung on his hips, kept aloft only by the button clasp that made room for his tail. Even with his door open, the room was abnormally hot, and it didn't help that the weather'd been less than charitable of late. Summer vacation was a wonderful break from school, but he wished it didn't come with summer weather too. He wasn't even wearing underwear, and the low waist of his shorts revealed the thicker arc of dark fur that made an upward arrow toward his belly button. It had grown in around the start of puberty, the ticked nature of his fur--light near the base of the hair, buttercream a bit beyond, and dark from halfway to the tip--becoming more apparent across his entire body and centering around his genitals. He occasionally wondered if shaving down his "blue" areas to the length of his undercoat would reveal more cream color, or if he'd turn blue-black all over if his shorter fur grew out to match the rest.
Stuffing his phone in his pocket, Lucky trotted down the hall and slid down the stair bannister, hopping off at the ground floor and wandering into the kitchen. Denise wouldn't be off work for another three hours, and it'd be another two before they had dinner, so he dug in the fridge, tail flicking about over his head as he shuffled about the contents. Settling on a container of leftover spaghetti, he extracted it and the parmesan cheese, popping the lid open and dumping a liberal amount into the container while his mind wandered.
"Hot Single Moms" could have meant anyone, but he couldn't help but let his mind drift to his own mother. Denise wasn't bad looking, a 32 year old woman who kept in good shape, going for runs regularly and spending time at the gym with her coworkers. She had a sinuous grace to her, with pleasantly flared hips and a reasonable B-cup bust, long and strong legs, beautiful green eyes, and from what he had seen thanks to her tendency to wear spaghetti straps and tank tops, the way her buttercream belly fur traced the outer edge of her breasts and arced in to cross her collarbones was particularly enticing. From what he'd seen of her (thank the gods for skirts and lace), it extended down the inside of her thighs, but he'd gotten a good look at her ass once upon walking in on her in the process of changing, and that brief glance told him her more dominant bluegray covered both butt cheeks, as his did. He wondered if her color crossed the length of her undercarriage, too, or if the cream color followed the arc of her mound to meet with the extended color on her thighs.
He'd be lying if he said he'd not drawn from a few of his experiences, and the daydreams that they inspired, as seeds for the various stories he wrote. A rushed morning and a little accident with her coffee and her last clean blouse, for example, turned into an impromptu suck-and-screw on the kitchen floor; a chance meeting in the bathroom when she walked in on him in a bath robe, just cranking up the shower, became a wet-and-wild romp in the water's spray; a comforting after-work shoulder massage for his overworked mother became a sensuous backrub and a deep tissue massage in another.
His stories had been well received. The one he'd just posted that morning, even, was a particular favorite he'd been working on for a few days: a warm and fluffy piece about the heater giving up the ghost on the weekend, a repairman not being able to show up for three days, and sharing a bed for warmth in the long nights leading to a little warming friction between the sheets on New Years Eve to ring in the new year. He figured it'd go over well, though he sort of wished he'd saved it for the next New Years. (He was careful to keep his actual age hidden; his writing talent notwithstanding, he was breaking quite a few site rules with his works, and feared the repercussions that would come with any part of his identity coming to light, let alone his age.)
Lucky put the parmesan back in the fridge and bumped the fridge door shut with his hip, idly musing that he'd probably be popping another boner right now if he hadn't just busted a nut to the climax of the sex scene in the story he'd been commenting on. (Admittedly, that's why his room always felt so damned hot, considering he'd get himself all worked up with the door shut for privacy.) Lidding the container, he made sure there was some air under the lid, and gave it a vigorous shaking before popping one corner and tossing it into the microwave. After punching "plus one minute" a couple times, he leaned against the counter and fished out his phone to cue up another video to watch while he waited.
His phone stopped as the video was loading, and a system alert dialogue popped up. He expected it to be telling him something had locked up or his phone was dead, but it didn't.
** Hot Single Mom Is 5 Miles From You!**
This had officially crossed from "annoying" to "creepy as fuck", and not just because the alert had dropped the plural. He hit "OK" and the phone went back to what it was doing, this time showing an animation made from a popular gameplay channel, but Lucky didn't feel like watching it any more. He fished a fork out of the silverware drawer, dropping his phone in his pocket as he did so, and popped the microwave door open, pulling out the half-warmed spaghetti and shuffling to the living room adjacent.
He'd not even had time to do more than spin up a forkful and stuff it in his mouth before his phone made a cheerful _b-ting!_He set his food down on the coffee table, turning on the TV while pulling his phone out again, and took a moment to flip channels while he chewed.
** Hot Single Mom Is 1 Mile From You!**
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down his back as he swallowed hard. He'd barely even dismissed the popup before another came up.
Hot Single Mom Is In Your Area!
His mouth was suddenly extremely dry, his ears angling back as he strained to hear something, anything, over the television. He remembered the remote in his hand long enough to hit the power button again, and it turned off as he clicked "OK" to dismiss the popup on his phone. It didn't go away: the words changed.
** Hot Single Mom Is Right Behind You!**
He glanced up from the phone to the television as a dripping sound reached his ears. A sweaty and strong and cloyingly _sweet_scent, vaguely familiar to his conscious mind and powerfully familiar to his body, reached his nose, at the same time that a low, throaty growl began to rumble behind him. His instinct recognized it well before he did, calling well back to a feral age: it was a growl of hunger. A distinct shape bearing high-standing ears and loose long curls of hair that he didn't need to see to know where the same blue-black as his own rose over the long dark form of the couch in the reflection of the screen, shoulders hunched, ears slowly angling back as the arms came up.
Prey instincts and predator reflexes merged as one in that moment as he threw himself bodily off of the couch, a yowl splitting the air as he heard claws sink into the fabric where he'd been moments prior. He kicked his phone away as he scrabbled to his feet and spun around into a crouch, hair blinding him momentarily; hearing the couch springs protest to something leaping onto them and seeing movement in his vision, he took a chance and leapt forward, arcing over a blue-black blur that shot underneath him and springboarding off of the couch and over the back, not even stopping to consider what just happened as he sprinted up the stairs, taking them three at a time.
As he reached the top of the stairs he heard the thump behind him and didn't look back, sprinting for the safety of his room at the end of the hall, his heart pounding in his ears almost blending out the sound of footfalls hitting exactly _two_of the stairs. He just had to get to his door, turn and lock it behind him--
--but he wasn't fast enough to close it in time, and a body struck him, arms wrapping around his torso as he was borne to the floor, the wind blasting out of his lungs with a whoof. When he managed to collect his thoughts, he was abruptly aware that the scent he'd smelled before, powerful at the time, was almost overpowering now, and as well it should be, considering his face was pressed tightly to a pair of breasts, something wet and boiling hot grinding against the rapidly rising lump in his shorts. He could hear ragged panting just above his head, and the hungry growling was no longer there, replaced with a deep, throaty purr. The grinding caused the tip of his erection to peek out from the waistband of his loose shorts. The hands that were laced through his hair and holding his face to the heaving breasts suddenly let go and dove below, effortlessly popping the button open and unzipping his shorts, revealing his full package. Before he could pull his head back, that wet heat pressed directly against his flesh and both he and his assailant sucked in air in a gasp of pleasure.
"My little Lucky's not so little_any more, I see," Denise cooed, and Lucky tilted his head back, finally getting a good look at her. She wasn't completely undressed, but damn close: her skirt was gone, her underwear (white lace) pulled to one side, her blouse missing and her brassiere pulled down under her breasts to let them hang free, leaving her in disheveled lingeree, a white lace garter belt and long white sheer stockings. His jaw hung open as she leaned back, placing a bit more weight on the juncture where her netherlips were spread on the back of his cock, and her hands went up to her breasts, squeezing them and thumbing over the soft arcs of her puffy nipples as she ground against his shaft. His mouth was suddenly no longer dry; he was actively salivating at the sight of the soft raised aureola hanging tantalizingly close to his face. His eyes flicked down to the meeting of their hips, momentarily distracted by the sight of thicker blue-black fur arcing up toward her belly button amongst the cream, a perfect (_oh so perfect) mirror to his own on the other side of his throbbing erection.
Much like his mixed breeding meant he had instinctive traits of both cat and goat, his feline and caprine traits were reflected in the build of his penis: long, albeit a bit thin, with almost no defined head to speak of, and bearing semisolid barbs around the lead end that flared out when he flexed his pelvic floor, voluntarily or not. The barbs flicked against Denise's clit as she ground her pussy up and down the length of his member, and he could feel her boiling arousal trickling down the length and saturating the fur of his sheath and balls. Gods, she was soaking. Wetter than he'd ever dreamed she'd be, and each droplet rolling down his length trailed burning cold desire, each grind of her hips working a thick drop of pre out of his pointed tip to disappear in the dark fur at the base of his stomach.
Lucky swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "M-Mom, what--" his voice trailed off into a low moan as she pushed down while grinding back toward his balls, earning an instinctive tightening which stood his barbs out, the three directly along the vein of his shaft flicking across her clit to make her stomach twinge and her purr hitch with each touch.
"My darling boy," she moaned softly, releasing her breasts to lean down and press them to his face again. "Mommy's on her heat again and forgot to get her suppressants," she explained in a breathy murr, "And she knows just what you've been writing about, you naughty, naughty little boy." His eyes flew open, and he started to speak, but found his muzzle suddenly held shut by two insistent fingers. "Do you remember when you had the flu, two months ago? You fell asleep on your desk, and you woke up in your bed, with your computer turned off?"
"You_did_put me to bed," he gasped through his teeth, and she laughed softly, letting go and raising up slightly, that same hand going down between them and angling his shaft upward. His eyes were drawn down by the motion as she lowered herself, and locked to the veritable_strings_ of feminine slime that connected her lower lips to his tumescence. "That's right. I saw the story you'd posted, but I didn't know it was-- ohhhgodsyes," she gasped out as his length slipped into her, a breathy moan rolling out of her throat the whole way down until she bottomed out, his tip gently tickling at her innermost depths. "...your writing," she finished with a happy sigh as she opened her eyes.
Lucky, for his part, had gone out to lunch. His eyes had fluttered shut, his breathing coming fast and shallow, his thoughts entirely centered on the stifling heat and warmth so lovingly cradling his dick. It was better than he'd ever dreamed it could be, pulsations rolling up the length of his shaft with every little shift of her body causing his body to flex on instinct, pumping little beads of precome into her tunnel and flaring the barbs out to tickle at the surfaces around them. She ground her hips gently, and his eyes snapped open as he was brought back down to reality.
"I couldn't stop thinking about the story I'd seen, the one about the coffee incident," she panted, leaning in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding his face gently to her chest as she continued to roll her hips against his. "I remembered a few key phrases, and searched for them online. If the username hadn't given it away, 1LuckySunuvaGun, the stories definitely did, seeing that you posted the piece about the back massage the very night you'd given me one," she pointed out, and let out a happy gasp as she felt his hips abruptly buck against her, grinding his tip against her cervix, just out of reach without lining their hips just so. He wasn't particularly girthy, but if he was this big at 14, she could only imagine what he'd be packing when he filled out a bit more; the thought--both of the size he'd have when he was older, and the idea of the two of them fucking well into the future--giving her an explicit thrill.
"It was... ooohfuck..._it was hard to keep quiet about it, and I probably wouldn't have done anything, but as I said, I forgot to get my heat suppressants refilled," she admitted, beginning to bounce her hips, pulling about half his length out of her and grinding it in again. He began to lift his hips to buck against her, his hands on the floor giving him leverage to meet her thrusts. "But then you posted the New Years piece toda_aaah--"Lucky had nuzzled over to take a puffy nipple into his mouth and gave it a soft nibble and pull, and a shudder shot up her spine, her tail flicking hard and slapping at his feet by reflex.
"You posted that piece this morning, and I didn't see it until I got to work, and I couldn't help but read it, and I was starting my he_EEE--" She yelped in surprise as the world spun, and she found herself lying on her back, her son on all fours overtop her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around Lucky's waist as he suddenly began thrusting, short hard thrusts that only removed about half his length from her squeezing depths due to him being on his knees, and she threw her head back, her claws digging into his shoulders as his barbs left searing furrows of delicious pain in her deepest recesses. She could no longer manage anything particularly coherent as Lucky continued to plow his mother with all the speed and force he could muster, rational and conscious thought well and truly out the window; he'd not had much functioning awareness left when she'd first mounted him in the first place, and she'd been doing her damnedest to keep her own head screwed on straight enough to (maybe) listen to reason should he ask her to stop, but she could feel the answer in the bone-jarring wet _slap_of his hips against hers: _ fuck _ _no, I'm not gonna stop until I've pumped every drop I can into you.
He paused in his thrusting long enough to crawl up from his knees into a low crouch and kick his shorts off entirely, hands hooking around her lower back to hoist her up with him and then grabbing tight to her ass, which granted him the leverage needed to thrust his entire length through her molten tunnel, grunting with primal need on every impact. On his knees he didn't have the leverage he needed for full thrusts, and while the pull of his semi-solid barbs was an exquisite scratching that spoke to her feline instincts, she probably could've lasted a good deal longer, considering his relative lack of girth. At this angle, though, his tip thumped against her cervical entrance at the bottom of every thrust and his barbs clawed at the full length of her pussy at every apex, the three that had flicked so wonderfully across her clit when she was grinding in his lap earlier now tearing hot and heavy across her g-spot and causing her back to spasm with each pull.
It wasn't long before she had caught up with him; his relative inexperience (marathon masturbation sessions aside) and her heat--plus the attention her g-spot was now getting--left them both on a hair trigger, and his rhythm suddenly began to stutter, losing the primal beat, his teeth grit hard and his breathing coming in short, angry-sounding gasps. He was torn between wanting to keep the wonderful feeling going forever and his body's natural need to finish and fill this receptive womb with his get, the scent of her heat filling his head with raw desire. Ultimately, the decision was made for him as a particular hitch of his hips caused his barbs to flick over Denise's g-spot twice in quick succession, and a breathless wheeze from her was the only warning she could give as her back arched, her legs pulling him in with a wet _thwack_as she came, the act wedging his tip ever-so-slightly into her cervical entrance, just enough to give him access to her inner sanctum as a veritable spray of her fluids gushed around his base.
Her walls began to spasm and roll around him as a wordless hiss of breathless pleasure squeaked out of her throat, all that her body could muster in an attempt to scream her feelings with empty lungs, and he was pulled fully over the edge by her orgasmic embrace, an open-throated half-yell, half-yowl accompanying the sudden bursts of potent come leaping straight into her womb, live and hot and teeming with capriline seed. His output wasn't particularly prodigious thanks to him getting off earlier--which was also why he'd lasted as long as he did--but as his balls pulled tight, the wet fur rolling slick across her perineum with each flex and shot, he unloaded a fair amount into her receptive womb, the scratch of his flaring barbs prolonging Denise's orgasm and the squeeze of her depths in return prolonging his until he had not a drop left to give and a little beyond.
When their bodies finally gave out, his grip on the soaked fur of her ass slipping free as her back muscles relaxed and her hips rolled, she collapsed completely, taking deep, gulping breaths that only paused for a moment when he fell face-first on her belly, his whole body going limp, the only sound in the room the satisfied purr of a well-seeded pussy(or at least the cat it belonged to). As they both lay there, panting, his length began to wither away, and in no time at all he had slipped from her passage and back into his sheath. Only then did her claws retract, and Lucky winced at the sharp pull in his hide as her hands slid down from his shoulders limply. He'd been so into it he'd not even noticed the pain before.
"That... was..." Denise croaked, her voice hoarse, her throat dry. Mustering a little strength, Lucky picked himself up just enough to half-crawl up her body, collapsing again with his head on her shoulder, his arms drifting up her sides to hook under her shoulders in a weak half-hug.
"Fucking_horrible_," he panted, and her head snapped up, a shocked and wounded look on her face, but his eyes were closed. "Wh--"
"How the hell did I ever think I could properly describe that?" He continued before she could ask, opening an eye and looking askance at her after a pause, a tired grin on his face. "That was like entering a poetry contest and finding out at the end it's actually NaNoWriMo."
Denise's jaw dropped, and she started to laugh, letting her head fall back, and after a moment he tucked his arms a little farther up, so her head could rest in the cup of his hand, fingers threading through her hair. "Guess you'll have to practice your long form, then," she suggested with a chuckle, one hand stroking the back of his neck.
For a few minutes, they simply lay there together, basking in the afterglow, when Denise voiced a nagging thought.
"Hon?"
"Mm?"
"If you've wanted to fuck me for all this time, why'd you run when I got home?"
"Prey instinct," Lucky said flatly. "You sounded like you were going to rip my throat out, and I'm half goat. It was that or faint."
"Ah." She nuzzled the top of his head, kissing his hair between the stubs of his horns. "Wanna go again?"
Lucky felt his sheath twitch and thicken somewhat, but his aching hips and well-drained balls made him think twice. "Maybe after a nap?" He asked, tilting his head up, and she smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her tongue gently tracing across his lower lip for but a moment. "Deal."
Just before sleep claimed Lucky, however, a single thought drifted through the back of his mind: _how the hell did those alerts keep popping up?_But it was gone just as quickly as it came.
--^--v--^--
This piece was inspired by a goofy Tumblr post that was going around that, the way I saw it, could have gone either as a horror story or the opening premise to a cheesy porno. When I sat down to consider what I wanted to do for a one-off to get myself into the groove of writing sex scenes, the thought popped into my head of a hot mom in heat, and I ran with it. As for Lucky being capriline, I think maybe he'll be some manner of fursona (or at least, a representative identity) for me in the future. I can sleep almost any time of day, I'll eat anything vaguely qualified as food, I'm always horn_nnn I mean_ I've always wanted horns--what's not to like?
I had fun writing this, though I may retcon details a bit if I ever revisit the characters; this particular instance would be a non-canon "what if" tale, primarily because of the cheesy nonsense with the hot single mothers thing. Who knows, maybe this was all a what-if an older Lucky wrote based on a daydream he had based around a time his mother came home early for completely non-heat-related reasons on the same day that he found out he'd picked up some kind of shitty adware on his computer, or something. Could also maybe do up a prequel with Denise's run-in with Jens, for that matter.
Also, if the piece's name looks familiar, you might've caught a glimpse in the recent submissions when I accidentally hit Enter while typing out tags (adding them as I was writing the story yesterday) and it posted. I was quick to draft-and-private it, but not knowing if it'd come up in the recent submissions page again when it was actually finished, I opted to delete the prior entry and re-post. I'm not sure what tags to put on it, but I think I nailed the primary ones--adolescent, incest, impregnation, heat, feline, goat, heterosexual, vaginal, semi-nc ('cause Lucky was scared shitless at the start)--but if you can think of any tags it's missing, do feel free to suggest however is best. (Is there a tag for excessive feminine lubrication? I tagged Squirting, 'cause she's a fountain when she goes off, but I dunno.) 11th hour edit: Dammit, how'd I miss those two fragments? I fixed 'em now. Arghn.)
(micro-edit: ever write something, go back and read it and wonder how the hell it never got written? I'd made two small edits--removal of repetition, nothing fancy--but somehow they never went up on here. And most people probably wouldn't even know if I didn't mention this, but I don't want anyone thinking I'm trying to slip something under the radar.)
Anywho, hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading.