Malia was having almost as much fun as Neil seemed to be having, pointing out all the interesting sights to the spirited toddler. The local mall was huge, three stories tall in some places, and was decked out in gaudy wreaths and other decorations for the holidays. The little cub would tug on her leg fur, gesturing to this storefront or that, begging to see everything this exciting place had to offer.
The cheetah mother was getting tired from the constant walking, and every so often, Neil would tucker out and demand to be carried. After a few hours of this, Malia navigated towards a rest area, and settled down into a plush chair. Plastic bags full of gifts at her feet and child upon her knee, the high-strung mother finally had a chance to catch a breath and relax. That was, until she felt a little paw on her chest.
"Nnnaa! Momma, ma, milka!" Neil's babble alerted her to his hunger, and filled the matronly feline with a pang of anxiety. Deep down, Malia knew damn well it was every mother's right to breastfeed in public. But something about the intimate process left her feeling extremely exposed to prying eyes, especially considering Neil was nearly three now, and each session was attracting more attention from passing gawkers. The fierce cheetah woman's seething desire to assert her maternal rights conflicted with her strong sense of social anxiety, and left her in the lurch at moments like this.
With a practiced motion, Malia lowered her top, unstrapped her bra, and cuddled her small child close, "Be quick now, we have to get home so you can play with your new present!" Malia tried to stay focused on her precious little guy as their soft, amber fur made contact. The shy mother tried to imagine she was alone at home with Neil, rather than situated in the midst of a bustling mall during Christmastime. She wondered if Neil really was getting too old for this, but a defiant twinge of maternal love helped her decide otherwise. Though when his little cheetah teeth made themselves known, Malia began to indecisively waffle yet again. "Settle down, no biting! Come on, Neil!" Malia harshly whispered, as the feisty toddler went to work on her.
At this point, the cheetah mother couldn't help but look around and notice several pairs of staring eyes leveled at her direction. "Goddammit, you little stinker! This isn't funny, quit fussing, or no present!" The cub was now wildly squirming in his mother's lap, pawing at her top before detaching decidedly and peeling off in an instant. However, Neil's tiny claws were still tangled up in Malia's thin, white top. The cheetah youngster hung upon his mother's collar by his left paw-hand momentarily, before the cub's weight and momentum sent him ripping down to the carpeted mall floor.
Neil was off like a bolt as soon as he touched the ground, and his mother was left chaotically piecing together how to react. She jumped up to run after him, but balked upon realizing her shirt was in tatters, and her bra hung loosely around her right shoulder. Shocked by the moment's call to action, Malia pressed on with arms shyly folded around her chest, before realizing she had hundreds of dollars worth of gifts at her feet. She bundled and lifted the plastic bags up quickly, and set after her toddler. Gazing with her honed, orange eyes, Malia could see Neil weaving around passing strangers, who barely noticed the tiny cheetah toddler scurrying by with surprising speed. Thinking fast, the big cat mother lifted her numerous shopping bags high to cover her chest as she gave chase.
The little cheetah toddler seemed to have found a second wind, picking up speed whenever his mother managed to close the distance. Malia kept shouting after him, but it was all a game to Neil at this point, "You dingleberry! You're in so much trouble! Stop this instant!" At one point, an intervening bison man noticed the situation and grabbed at Neil's arm, but soon relinquished his grasp after suffering a sharp nip from the rascally tyke's jaws. Malia was left shouting an apology backwards, while she continued running after her incorrigible son. This proved to be a mistake, and Malia soon bowled into a distracted couple, sending her bags full of goods hurtling through the air. Seeing a security guard approaching the commotion, the panting cheetah mother commanded, "Mall cop, make sure nobody steals my stuff!" before setting off in pursuit once again.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Malia sighed to herself, as she saw where Neil had ended up. The cub's escape path had worked back toward the mall's centerpiece fountain array, and he had waded into the shallow pool of water to fish wish quarters from the bottom. The exhausted cheetah mother was fuming at this point, and roared out, "Get over here RIGHT NOW! I'm counting to three!" But to his mischievous credit, Neil didn't even bother to look back as he heaped wet coins into his pockets. When the count concluded without even a glance from her misbehaving child, Malia felt absolutely humiliated in front of the crowd of shoppers who congregated to watch the public spectacle. The feline mother didn't know whether to feel more embarrassed about her child's behavior, or her ripped apart shirt and exposed, fluffy chest.
Long tail twitching in anxiety, Malia could no longer tolerate the stand-off, and angrily marched into the fountain to forcibly retrieve her son. "You are in So. Much. TROUBLE!" Malia growled, finally earning a glance from Neil, who blanched at his mother's expression. Yet again, to his mother's groaning angst, the damp cheetah cub went splashing off in the opposite direction. Malia dashed forward, trying to grab him before he could escape, but felt a sudden shift of wet coins under her foot-pads. With a calamitous splash, Malia soon found herself drenched in undoubtedly dirty fountain water, and her indignation reached a feverish new peak. She heaved herself over the fountain's rim, dripping wet, her torn shirt now a thin film upon her shoulders and back. Malia simply could not believe the day's events, but when she caught sight of her fleeing son, her priorities reasserted themselves.
Neil was clearly making for the nearby mall escalators with desperate speed, and Malia's heart suddenly clenched with maternal concern. He was liable to suffer a fall down the harsh, metal steps at this rate, and her previous concerns evaporated in the face of this potential threat to her child. Malia sunk low, and sprinted forward as fast as she could. The protective mother was momentarily unconcerned with the spectacle she was making of herself, water beading off her billowing fur as she began running faster than many cars could accelerate.
Malia's denim shorts began slipping down with each bounding stride, weighty with drenching water, but all Malia could see was her son approaching the steep escalator steps with incautious hurry. The cheetah mom vowed that the only injury her son would suffer would be a spanked bottom, pressing forward as her pants fell down.