Category: NonHuman Stories

Stacy's Mom (has got it goin' on)

by JadedWidower©

Desirae sighed, straightening the blue ribbons wrapped around her rounded, fluffy ears. She was preening and she knew it. She then used a brush to manage the ends of her shoulder length hair to get it in some semblance of order. She'd stayed up far too late last night watching a documentary on the metallurgy involved in making a viking sword.

Her late husband would have been right there with her, bless his heart. Her daughter had ridiculed her for it this morning. She felt there was a loss between her generation and this one: the urge to learn, to discover, to engage.

With an even heavier sigh Desirae tossed the brush down onto the vanity and lifted her large clawed paws to begin the process of straightening her breasts. At nearly forty, she'd only just started wearing a bra—and even it was only as a preventative measure to keep her breasts from sagging prematurely. She thought that with proper care they may not sag until her sixties.

Desirae straightened her silk Chinese dress while admiring the beautiful patterns in the mirror. It clung to her every curve, leaving just enough to the imagination to add the allure. A man was visiting, after all.

The circular thinking which brought to bear the root of her irritation.

Her step-daughter Stacy was leading some sweet young man on. And for nothing more than his tutelage at that! Desirae was aghast at the idea of leading any man on—you were either interested, or not. In her own college years she thought she may have slept with him already—not for the tutelage, mind you, she wasn't a prostitute. But more as appreciation for taking the time to show he really cared and reciprocating.

Shrugging in exasperation as she turned and bent slightly over to check her derriere, she supposed it was merely the difference between species. Humans had some strange ideas, after all.

But Desirae was a Ren Xiangmao—a literal panda girl. With Jessica Rabbit curves trimmed in soft silky black and white fur. Further, she was a Mamono—a literal monster girl. Sex incarnate, liberally sprinkled with lust, and several dashes of desire.

Preening. She knew she was doing it once again. Though she judged she still had the posterior of an adult film star, making her smile. It wasn't like the young man was coming to see her, but her step-daughter.

Though Stacy was no slouch. Gaining from her father's Scotch-Irish ancestry the fiery hair and temper, she had her own racetrack curves that turned heads even in the company of Mamono. Stacy's greatest flaw was her selfish petulance.

Me. Me. Me.

With a roll of the eyes so deep she thought she could almost see her own brain, Desirae set to hunting through the massive amount of Stacy's cosmetics on the vanity. Perhaps the greatest benefit of being a Mamono was that she'd never have to spend a dime on the cosmetic every human woman seemed to spend thousands of dollars per year on. Finding the lip gloss—cherry flavored—she applied a light coat.

Not because she was worried about chapped lips—Demon Lord, no! Not in Savannah, Georgia—but because she absolutely loved the slight taste whenever her tongue made contact with her lips. Whether in thought, biting a lip, or just for kicks. It was always a pleasant surprise to have a sweet taste just an involuntary tick away. When upset, it makes the world just a little better.

Desirae leaned out the restroom door and looked down the stairs into the dining room, where her daughter was chewing the end of her pencil trying to will the Trigonometry answers onto the paper as if by magic.

Turning back to the mirror, Desirae pulled her top to show off just a touch more cleavage. Stacy could do much worse than a fairly handsome engineering student who got a free ride and would probably finish up his last year at MIT.

Desirae had cookies in the oven and really needed to attend to them. It pleased her to no end to have a man around regularly who ate with real gusto, not nitpicked over food like her constantly dieting daughter. As she came down the stairs she heard Ezra speaking, his slow southern accent absolutely charming, all in a soothing baritone.

"A man is staring at a tower exactly fifty feet tall. From where he is standing can tell the angle of elevation from the ground to the building's peak is forty-one degrees. So, now determine how far away he is standing."

Desirae smiled when she saw Ezra briefly look down Stacy's blouse—just for a moment—then he was all business in explaining the equation to her. She shook her head as she made her way into the kitchen to check on the cookies, opening the oven and bending over with a toothpick to check them. Her daughter had moderate, but well-shaped breasts.

Desirae nodded approvingly, over both Ezra and the cookies. She was sure that had he been her handsome tutor during university they'd have made a fine couple. Stacy should really learn to emulate her.


Ezra sighed, just before checking out Stacy's blouse again. The girl had some very nice curves, though with a moderate bust line she did boast an impressive set of hips with a behind to match. He checked to ensure she was still engrossed in the math before looking ahead into the kitchen.

Stacy's mother was bent over, the fur of her legs highlighting the silk of her asian dress, even as her plump ass pushed up against it. It was an amazing sight, causing an uncomfortable stir in his loins. He looked for as long as he dared until glancing back at Stacy's math.

It was wrong. In the most profound sense of the word. He began to correct her. "Listen. The angle listed is your tangent, right? So..." He continued on in a friendly rote.

Ezra knew Stacy was leading him on with all the flirtation. He was a third-year student and knew how things worked. He just rather enjoyed all the beautiful company and the great food. He lived alone in a studio apartment off-campus and spent most of his time studying, hoping to limit his insane student debt by filling up his time with classes and getting ahead. He had all the coursework done for five years in going for his masters, a school that was accredited with MIT so he could finish up his degree there. At a significantly lower cost. Stacy provided a scenic environment. Her mother did the same, but sat an excellent table.

It also didn't help that he looked like a linebacker gone soft after retirement. All his academic hard-work didn't help his physique any. He'd put on a few pounds despite spending at least four hours at the gym every week. Perhaps he should look into going on a diet.

Alas, his plans of dieting were dispelled—DRAT!—when Desirae sat a tray of cookies on the table before him. "Help yourself," she told him with a flirty wink.

Ezra gave her a reserved smile, that was partially in awe. He'd always liked pandas. Never expected to see a Ren Xiangmao on this side of the big water. "Yes, Ma'am." He said burning his fingers on one of the hot cookies but barely noticing.

Blowing on the cookie he turned back to a visibly upset Stacy. Though she was stewing over the equation and not his ogling of her step-mother. "Now, there's no need to worry. Trig has been around since the third century. Back then they thought it was some kind of magic and not just difficult math. Here, I'll give you the answer. Try and work it out backwards. Fifty-eight feet." He told her his mouth partially full of delicious chewy chocolate chip cookie-sex. Well, as close as he'd gotten to sex in the past three years, but a lot of that was by design. No one to blame but himself.

Stupid self, he thought.

Though he could think of worse ways to spend a Thursday afternoon in Savannah than being given cookies at a dining room table with two extremely pretty women. Well, his penis didn't like it was trapped to the confines of his pants, citing cruel and unusual punishment.


Desirae told herself she wasn't spying. She was just peeping around the corner at the two of them from the kitchen when they weren't paying attention. Totally not spying.

She admitted to herself that she may be spying a little. Sort of. Though to most humans, rooting for the attractive young tutor to throw her daughter over the table and fuck her brains out might come off as a little strange.

Mamono. Sex incarnate and all.

The young man was in fairly nice shape, Desirae noted with pleasure. Sure, he had gone somewhat soft around the middle, but men with love handles were sexy. It gives you something to hold onto and help them fuck you harder.

She could also tell he tried to maintain his weight, though went about it all wrong. His arms and shoulders were heavily laden with muscle, and he had a fine turn of calf from what she could see of his legs. Just not enough cardio to burn off the carbs and sweets he must be munching on while studying.

From her position earlier—looking from under her skirt between her legs in front of the stove, just a casual look—she had seen him check her out as well, making her feel rather well-pleased. And it had given her the perfect vantage of the tent in his pants so well-hidden under her dining room table.

With the additional information about his package, she thought Stacy could do MUCH worse. Women who concentrated on length were a waste of space—thick boys were where it's at.

Desirae found every excuse to walk all around the house—the dining room had no less than three entrances—just trying to find some sign of life in her daughter. A little bit of hope that her pride and joy wasn't just a tease.

But Ezra wasn't doing his part. He was very friendly, though he was very careful not to touch Stacy. Never anything more than absolutely necessary. At least he was smiling a lot.

A man with a pretty smile can go far with a woman on that alone. And Ezra had one of those rare genuine smiles that makes him look a lot more handsome than he is. The kind that lights up the room and has caused dozens of unplanned Mamono pregnancies.

Standing in the living room, just peeking around the corner down the hall, Desirae was holding onto her skirt and fidgeting. Rooting for Ezra in a fierce whisper. "Just grab her by the hair and kiss her—she'll melt. Worked on her dad."

Desirae rubbed her face in exasperation while smiling after Ezra popped a rather intelligent joke.

Stacy had given him a blank stare, missing it completely.

"Oh, Maou. You did this on purpose, didn't you..."


Ezra gave Stacy a blank stare as she set the next textbook on the table. "Wait. You're taking Algebra 101 along with Trig? Wait. You don't know Algebra?"

Stacy puffed her cheeks indignantly. "I just figured I'd take all my math classes in one year!" She protested. "That way I can do all the math at one time, then concentrate on the important stuff later."

Ezra dropped his face onto the table with a loud thunk. He then lifted a few inches and let gravity take over. Then did it about five more times. "You need to get a copy of your schedule and take it to the counselor." He repeated the maneuver. "Ask her to optimize your schedule. Do not tell them what you just told me. Just say your schedule is really messed up—they'll get something that colossally screwed up straightened out. You shouldn't be in Trig when you struggle with Algebra." He thought he could see a mirror image of his face in the wooden table and stopped pounding his skull into it. He didn't think Stacy's mom would appreciate a perfect indentation of his face in her Maple.

"But...WHY?" Stacy mewled.

Ezra briefly wondered if he could convince her that anal sex with a smart person would increase her intelligence overnight, but discarded the notion. Well, he sat it back a few pegs, anyhow. It wasn't entirely out the question as of yet. "The processes and formulas that you use and learn in algebra—" He snatched her bag and looked into it for a moment. "-and Geometry are all used in Trig. It's equivalent to trying to bake a cookie before you have the eggs and sugar in the dough."

"R-right." Stacy said uncertainly as she nodded.

Box of fuckin' rocks... Ezra thought as the anal-intelligence thing moved up a peg. He picked up a scrap of paper and a pencil and wrote out some Algebra equations, beginning with basic and each becoming more advanced.

"Here you go, sweetie." Came the lyrical voice of Stacy's mother as she sat down a cup of steaming black coffee. It was accompanied by a look of exasperated pity.

"Thank you, Mrs. Everdine." Ezra said as he sipped his coffee.

She smiled at him, making his day brighter and setting any idea of taking advantage of her daughter back a peg. "Aw, call me Desirae."

"Yes, ma'am." Ezra nodded looking back at Stacy's paper completely missing the put off look she gave him.

Evidently Stacy had either never learned or order of operations and failed Algebra utterly, or she'd found someone much like himself and talked them into doing all her course work.

Ezra was seriously considering making a polite excuse and just never returning when Stacy dropped her mechanical pencil and bent over in front of him to pick it up—her skirt riding up and showing the yellow, lacy panties covering her plump pussy lips. As he was engrossed in her ass, Stacy's mother called from the kitchen, though if he was caught checking her out he was too enraptured to notice.

"Oysters for dinner!"

As his mouth began to water—whether from Stacy's juicy looking pussy or the thought of oysters—Ezra wondered which would get him into more trouble: His cock or his stomach. Hungry and horny at the same time. Does a word even exist for that. Horngry? He shook his head as Stacy began to straighten.

As she sat down Ezra caught her attention and held her gaze. "Repeat after me: Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally."

"Why?" Stacy replied with a puzzled look.

Ezra could feel the table calling to his face. A long lost lover's embrace. The anal sex giving intelligence idea was now well into the plan stages, having jumped ahead four pegs.


Desirae smiled as she saw Ezra working on some graph paper with a compass, ruler, and some other items she couldn't readily identify. One actually looked more like a sextant than anything else. She finished sprinkling some bay leaves over the oysters on the shell. They were roasted in cajun-style sauce and had the sides of Cornbread, sweet-potato fries, and collard greens.

Stacy was busy watching an online professor go through basic algebra problems on Ezra's laptop. Ezra had written the problems down for Stacy to work through along with the professor, rather than teach her the most basic forms of Algebra. If she had a particular question, he'd told her, she could pause the video and ask.

"Soup's on!" Desirae called out cheerily, setting the platters of food on the table along with the plates.

"Mom! You know I'm on a diet!" Stacy chided with a longing look at the sweet-potato fries.

"What's that, dear? I've never done that." She winked at Ezra conspiratorially. The poor boy looked like he wanted to indent her good maple table with his face. He looked like he could use a laugh, but he'd only managed to smile tiredly.

Stacy was heaping her plate with only the fries as Desirae returned to the kitchen to bring utensils and glasses. She grabbed a good bottle of brandy and a couple tumblers for herself and Ezra. If anyone looked like he could use drink, it was that poor boy.

She sat the glasses down, pouring two tumblers fairly full of brandy. One for herself and placed the other in front of Ezra, who was carefully putting away his books and work, whereas Stacy had shoved hers off into the floor.

"No brandy for me?" Stacy asked with a pout, her plump lips making her look like she was about to quack.

Desirae rolled her eyes at her daughter. "You're not twenty-one...yet." Though her feelings gave the lie to her words, if she thought getting her daughter drunk would bring these two together.

Stacy merely huffed and pulled out her phone, munching on fries as she scrolled through facebook.

Ezra, on the other hand, had put away his laptop and things neatly, setting his ware carefully on his napkins and exercising wonderful table-manner. He took a sip of his brandy and nodded his thanks.

Smiling, Desirae liberally applied a white plate with Oysters and collards, raising her eyebrows over the sweet-potato fries to which Ezra shook his head sadly.

Ezra took the plate with a grateful smile that lit up her day and murmured his thanks.

Desirae began to fix her own plate and used the opportunity to dig into Ezra with questions—since her daughter was too ignorant to be interested. "So, Ezra, we know you're studying to be an engineer. How do you parents feel about it?"

Ezra swallowed a mouthful of oysters with a pleased expression. "Well, I lost my parents when I was fourteen. Uncle Jonah took me in, but he works on the dock. I mean, he provided what he could, but he was always sowing his wild oats and had never settled down. He just didn't know what to do with a kid like me. But he did the best he could. Though he isn't too happy I didn't go for a skilled trade—especially with his connections."

Desirae had sat down with her own food and ate daintily. "His connections?"

Ezra nodded. "The union. It's basically a big front for organized crime. But down south it's on a small scale. Couple containers go missing once every few ships. Which doesn't amount to much to the big companies importing, but it's pretty big business. Mostly computer parts, televisions, things being shipped from overseas. It's cheaper for the Chinese to ship it overland than we can. So they ship it down to the Mediterranean and it ships to the east coast out here. Uncle Jonah is the paperwork guy. When he saw me taking an interest in computers he started taking partial payments in parts. I started building computers and selling them online. It's how I paid for college."

Desirae blinked, mostly in surprise. "Wow. So you're going for an engineering degree in computer science?"

Ezra took a sip of his brandy. "Somewhat. My minor is in computer science, though my major is engineering. During high school I took vocational classes on computer repair and science."

Desirae nodded. "I'm sorry to hear you lost your parents so young. It's difficult to lose one, let alone both of them at such a young age. Good thing your Uncle was around."

Ezra nodded. "Well, he wasn't around much. He works down in Brunswick. He didn't think the city was a good environment for me, especially with the people he deals with. I stayed mostly up here at his place. Most of the time I shared it with his girlfriend of the week. But even before my parents died I tended to look after myself. Though I haven't heard from my sister since they died."

Desirae chomped down a fry. "Your sister? Did she go elsewhere..."

Ezra had finished cleaning his plate, making Desirae grin despite herself. It was nice to have a man who appreciated good food around. "Well, my Dad was with a Youko for a while. They broke up and he wound up with custody of Trace. She's ten years older than I am, so she was an adult when he died. Just sort of disappeared and I haven't seen her since my thirteenth birthday. She and dad were close, so maybe she just ran away from the loss."

Desirae nodded her understanding, though she still seethed at the Youko's tendency to run off after having children with a man. Or men. Though it wasn't common, she still saw it in a poor light. "So, you still live with your uncle?" she looked to make sure Stacy was paying attention.

Stacy was tapping away with her thumbs, obviously posting on Facebook and oblivious.

Ezra shook his head. "No, I was able to get my own place. I've got a studio apartment down the road a bit. Nothing spectacular, but it makes a good workshop for a bachelor like me."

Smiling at Ezra to keep from glowering at her daughter, Desirae gave him a half-flirty wink. "Well maybe you can fix my computer next time you come over."

Category: NonHuman Stories