The life of a cub (Part 2)
This is the direct sequel to the story with similar title, only a 2 where there used to be a 1. It has no yiff in it but I think it'll be more of a sexual nature in the next part, really depends on how the comments and feeback goes. I depend on you to get me to write another part so don't HESITATE to comment.
- * * Yeah, so you know I'm an orphan already, I was the albino-kitten that Amanda pulled of hell that you read earlier. They called me Tim back at the orphanage but Amanda didn't want that name but neither did she want me to forget that time. She said it made me who I am today and there's nothing worse than forgetting, she said. I didn't believe her then, now I do because I know that my time in the orphanage was one of the reasons I became who I am today... Tim sat quiet in the limousine, a seat over from Amanda, the young vixen director who ran "Benedictson's pharmaceutical", the later "Benedictson's Goodwill". She took this time to look at the young, naked feline. He stood shorter than 5 feet, perhaps eleven years and completely white all over his body, except for his eyes that were pink. It wasn't too rare to see an albino anymore but it was always a sight to be seen. Amanda removed the purple gloves she had been wearing, the gloves that very well matched the purple dress she wore and by the looks it was silk all over. "What's you name, son?" Tim had his eyes nailed on what ever ran by outside the window as the limo picked up speed, reaching the highway. His legs and hands worked in a "team" to cover up the parts of him that he thought too private, surprisingly only his legs worked to cover his boyhood, his hands covered his chest and arms. "Tim, ma'am, it's Tim." She tilted her head slightly and narrowed his eyes, looking at him. Not quite sure how far to push him already, perhaps it'd scare to get too loose reigns, perhaps it'd scare him away if she was too stern. "Please, Tim, call me mother..." Tim looked at her and she could see that his eyes were on the verge of tears, wanting to cry but too afraid to. She wanted to tell him to cry, he was so young that the troubles of adults were beyond him but she didn't want to raise no weakling either. Both of them return to look out their respective windows, neither was brave enough or certain enough to move one seat over to sit close to the other. It was a dare of sorts, the first one to move or to the other, car or no car, lost the game. It would be no surprise that sooner, only a week later, the game would be won by Amanda but she expected nothing else. In fact, she was impressed by how long he managed. But for now they were in the car, looking out the windows for a good few minutes until Amanda dared to break the silence, a game she lost even though she'd say she never saw it as a dare. "You shouldn't be called Tim anymore... but I don't want you to forget it either... from now on you're my son Timothy or the orphan Tim, your choice." Tim... I mean, Timothy nodded and smiled to her. "Yes, mom... my name is Timothy..." To be honest, he didn't really care. From that day on, my name was nothing but Timothy and I took with joy, 'cause Tim was a name filled with terror and fear. All of us in that cellar, call it what you want, it was a cellar to us and nothing else, got raped on a weekly basis... my weeks were just a little shorter than everyone else's. We could usually tell the day depending on who was dragged in to the secret room and came out three hours later. I respected my mother from the very first day we met, that cold, winter day so long ago now. She stormed that building like she owned it from the very second she set foot there and I wanted to be just like her... well, hir if we're gonna get stuck on titles. It was a road Timothy had never taken before, in fact he had never seen it because it led to the more noble territory of the city, the Balame Avenue, housing perhaps around 100 millionaires and half of them were "poor" if you really measured the area. Amanda was one of the richest and therefore owned one of the biggest houses, biggest cars and one of the biggest in-door pools. Any idiot could have a pool; the really rich had a pool outside and one inside. When Timothy first saw the avenue, paved with red bricks for the cars, yellow bricks for the sidewalks and the shiniest uniforms for the patrolling polices, sitting there on their horses, he gaped in awe, so different from the boarded up windows and graffiti on the brick-walls. "Holy shit!" Of course this little statement did not go by unheard and Amanda, being a very strict person saw cussing with such words below hers and her son's dignity. So the little exclamation was rewarded with nothing but a swift slap. Timothy, not really ready for such a thing winced in pain and grasped his burning cheek, muttering something to himself before looking up. "Sorry, mom!" She was just glad that he understood right away what habit she wanted him to get rid off. "If I catch you using those words again, I'll make sure it's not your cheek burning!" Her voice was stern and not really afraid to get on the bad side of the child. They had lost eleven years of parenting but she wasn't about to let him behave like a toddle because of it. "I know we don't really know each other, I know your name is Timothy, you know mine is Amanda, or at least now you do, you call me mom and I call you son. I also know you were raped on a regular basis, like others have coffee, you had... you were raped... but other than that, we don't know each other... but we're going to change that!" She sat back again, letting her head slip back on the neck-supporter. And from that day on, our relationship was set for many years to come. She was stern to me, I realized quickly she believed in physical punishment, the light kind like a slap or a spank. But she loved me none the less, if I did good she always rewarded me, some time with a simple thing like a kiss or a pat, some times she got me presents or took me on a trip to the zoo... but then I would've been really good. Many parents are too soft on their children, I think. A kid who gets away with everything too easy learns that it's okay. I learned the hard way that breaking things, taking things or just disobeying my mother in general was a big no-no. She wasn't afraid to show she was disappointed in me and I worked my hardest to please her, rather than disappoint her. I still do, five years after... Yeah, you'll see what I mean. Describing the house was basically impossible. It was a mansion that rivalled the famous Bruce Wayne's: surrounded by a 9 feet fence, the mansion not only showed off with a gigantic house but also a garden fit for parks with ponds, groves and large fields of short-cut grass, the soft kind of grass, perfect for playing in. As the black limo stopped in the garage, Amanda waited for the driver to step out, a canine in a snug, black suit she called Jones to open the door then, before stepping it out, she softly caressed Timothy's cheek. "Wait here, I'll send Sarah down with a blanket to cover you up or something." Timothy nodded in reply and almost fell over as he desperately tried to follow her hand as she moved away, not wanting to break the brief yet mysteriously pleasing contact they had. It was new to Timothy to be handled with care... well, for Tim it was new, Timothy just started to exist recently. While he sat alone in the car, waiting for someone to resume his caretaking, he had a moment to think it all through. Not only was he now the son of one of the richest women in the world, if not THE richest woman, his name was now Timothy and obviously a well-mannered and well-spoken brat... but for some strange reason, that didn't sound all wrong to him. Perhaps this was his lucky break in life? He sat in the garage for maybe fifteen minutes, the time really just flew by, but in the end a door was opened at the far end and a new figure stepped out. Definitely female, the curves, grace and beauty to rival Amanda's but as she opened the door, holding out the blanket for Timothy to cover himself in, Timothy was to learn the real difference between the two. Not only was this an equine, the smaller version much more similar to ponies than big horses, but she was also the real "mother" of the house. Her name was Trina, she was a plump equine in her late thirties that'd been working with Amanda for as long as Amanda had been executive. I took to Trina like a newborn to a mother, I wrapped myself up in the blanket and quickly got out of the car, feeling for the first time how cold I had actually been, starting to freeze. Standing there in the dim garage, Timothy started to shiver lightly, not because he got cold but because his body had simply forgotten to do so before. The blanket had just reminded him what warmth really was. "Oh my, can't have you catching a cold the first day in your new day, can we?" The voice and smile were angelic and Timothy got lost in them for a short time, just looking at her which broke a blush on her cheeks, followed by a quick giggle. "I got something on my face, cute stuff?" My eyes widened at her remark and the blush that followed made my cheeks shine pink, something Trina obviously noticed immediately. But instead of mocking or teasing, she kneeled down and without any real troubled picked Timothy up, cradling him gently like a child against her chest. Timothy was in shock. "I, err, you can put me down, ma'am." She raised an eyebrow and leaned in close, her snout dangerously close for what could've been a kiss. "Ha, the way you were just standing there and staring, we would've been here all day!" Timothy muttered something in return, something Trina seemed to overhear and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Now none of that, Amanda would be furious!" And with that she strode off, without any consideration for Timothy's protesting, holding him still to her chest. Timothy would always remember how the other maids pointed and winked at him, making his blush seem like a never-ending torture. Trina would be the corner-stone of my life for years to come and I remember those days fondly. She wasn't my mother, more like an older sister who was always there to take care of me when I was too afraid to confront mother. To help you, as this is a text-confession, I'll describe her to you: short, plump equine with shiny, brown fur all over her body. Blonde, short hair and green eyes, her bosom was the kind to rival mother's but now in retrospect I figure Trina's was just a tad bit smaller. Never the less, Trina was the one who was on 24/7 call for me, she dropped me off at school and she picked me up. She bought my clothes, toys and candy, she knew me better than my mother but she could never give me the kind of affection my mother would, Amanda loved me 'cause I made her want to change for the better, had she not adopted me back then, the world would, without exaggerating, look a lot different and probably for the worse. Trina helped me install myself in the guestroom as it was back then, fit more for a girl than a boy at my age: pink walls and a red carpet to match, a red that had somehow infected the bed, turning the covers red and the sheath pink, the pillows matching the covers and it was all in silk. Trina told me how the room was Amanda's childhood-dream, her father would have none of it, but when he died and Amanda took over the mansion and the company, it was the first thing she changed just for the hell of it. Trina closed the door behind her, the door luckily still being of a wooden colour, just like the drawers, closets and desk but somehow they blended in perfectly with the pink and red, making it girlish none the less. "I'm sorry for this, Timothy, but I'm sure Amanda will redesign it soon." Timothy, still looking the room through, took a while to reply and then he did it with a smile, shaking his head quickly. "No, let it be like this... I kinda like it somehow..." At first she didn't know what to make of this boy but decided for the better not to think of it too much. Young Timothy didn't know why, it just felt right that if the old Tim was gone, there was no need to hold on to old things, not even likes and dislikes. It just came naturally to become Timothy, Amanda's son, and to discard Tim, the raped orphan. He didn't want to be a girl or anything like it, it was just that he didn't mind. "You know, kid, it's good to have little feet running around the mansion." While Trina spoke, Timothy turned to look at her, still smiling then he hurried up to her, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "It just feels good to be home..." At first, Trina was left dumbfounded but soon found herself and her words, wrapping her arms around him and whispering softly. "Feels good to have you home, kid..." It was quite the readjustment for me at first, going from rape to being taken care of 24 hours a day. The first couple of days were the hardest but I really got to know Amanda better, calling her mother came more naturally and her embrace felt good, not rare as if I needed to savour every one of them, but warm and welcoming. She seemed to take to me as her son just as easily as me to her as a mother, it was like we were always supposed to be only fate ran us over. My nanny, Trina, became more important the first week than anyone else, she helped me readjust to my new life, taught me to behave better, get rid of the street-language we all had spoken at the orphanage and to love. Time went by quick thanks to this and having a gigantic mansion to explore, there were so many rooms I had trouble imagining what to do with them all. Some were stacked to the ceiling with books, others were just empty with floor like a mirror, reflecting everything and everyone without any distortion. First week was like a magic journey, trying to overcome my fears and uncertainties. Even though Trina was supposed to help me, care for me, she did a lot of other things at the mansion as well. I depended more on her for both emotional support and guidance in my new life. But all that was going to change one night, exactly a week after my arrival which was kinda weird thinking back. Little Timothy, eleven years old with unknown birthday, coped with his new life in rich and prosperity. He never went hungry, unloved or bored as the staff of the mansion came to like the little kid. But at night, when all was quite and everyone was supposedly sleeping, Timothy sometimes laid awake for hours and thought. He could think about fears, dreams and friends, basically anything between heaven and earth. A lick from thunder painted the sky outside his window bright white for a second and left a scar on the sky, that too white, that soon healed. Timothy did not miss it, even though the big crash was left out, he mistook the event not. Another similar even confirmed his fears, sitting up straight in the bed and looking at the window. Scared of thunder and lightning, Timothy sat alone in his bed, back against the wall, pondering his options. He so dearly wanted to run to Trina and hug her, curl up against her and pull the covers over them. But if Amanda found out about it, she might think of him as week and he knew she didn't want a weakling of a son, you didn't need to be psychic to figure that out. As another flash licked the sky, his mind made the decision just as quick and before long he was sneaking down the dark, dark hallway that led to the back of the mansion. He knew where his mother's bedroom was but her rarely ever went there, who knew if she was naked when in there or something, he'd be in a lot of trouble then but he was willing to take the risk now. His fear for thunder was something he could not defeat on a single night. The door slid open without any effort, at that time Timothy didn't know that the mansion employed a handyman that went around and made sure everything ran smoothly constantly and never went bad. He was glad for this at the moment, he didn't want to wake her up because of that, a squeaking door. Not sure how to break it to her, poking her gently or simply speaking, he kneeled down next to her bed, resting his head against the mattress. This room was safe from the lightning he noted to himself, no windows at all and the only light was a corner lamp that was set on dusk, just barely making it possible to see at all. There he pondered the room, how to wake his mother up and say he was afraid of thunder and his future in the gigantic mansion. Unaware to himself even, he slowly fell asleep there. Unaware of how much time had passed, Timothy awoke by the sensation of being lifted and somewhat dragged, an apologizing voice whispering in his ear. "I'm sorry if I woke you up, it was a kind of awkward position to lift you from." It was no doubt Amanda who had been awoken by some disturbance and had then seen her young, adopted son sit at the edge of the bed in an awkward position but apparently sleeping anyhow. "I'm sorry, mom, it's just that..." His voice was sleepy and was interrupted every now and then by a yawn. But Amanda didn't allow him to continue as she dragged him in a position that matched her own. "Shut up, you stupid kid, let's just sleep?" Timothy wasn't sure what to say at this but he knew she didn't mean any harm with it, there was a small sense of joy trembling on the voice and his mind dissolved again, his mother's warm embrace circling around him then tugging him in close to her. "I was almost afraid you'd think of Trina as your mother for a while..." This time it wasn't joy, it was a bit of sadness and even fear, something he found new in his mother, something he hadn't realized she was capable of. "No, mom... you're my mom and I love you! You're my angel..." Perhaps he wasn't to be trusted fully in his sleepy, disoriented state. But he felt it be the truth and she somehow knew he meant it and that was all that mattered. She nuzzled his neck for the first time ever, holding in a tear in fear he might see her as weak. Chuckling a bit, she then gave the same spot a few licks followed by a whisper, the softest whisper as she was afraid to draw him too close to the surface of reality. "Oh, I love you, you stupid dolt!" Her embrace tightened quickly only to be released in an easier grip, Timothy's back against Amanda's chest. That night they became mother and son for real, a last whisper being the last words spoken for a few hours: "I love you too, mom..."