This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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Cuckolded by Her Mother
Chapter Nineteen
Submission. It was such a sweet state of mind that it was no wonder that, truly, Fyr would ever want to come out of the softly floating head-space that it brought her each and every time. Her lust craved it like chasing a high and yet it was something so freely provided, unlike her orgasms, that she followed her mother and her husband like a lost puppy, eager to please them as she rushed to complete any and all tasks they had for her. And, if they didn't want her around at that moment in time, she would find something pleasing for them in the background, some chores that needed doing and would, ultimately, make their lives easier. It was a pleasant side effect that everything she did seemed to make her life easier too, though there was always one, little, niggling, horrible thing lurking in the background that sullied her days with a streak of darkness.
Scott. The stoat. Oh, how he complicated her life. The work on the ranch - at least what she was paying for - was coming to an end and her heart tugged in a strange way to see all the walls in the right places, the deck coming to life outside as it was raised up from the ground in case of flood. She'd thought everything through very carefully and, although it had been her dream to own such a ranch since she'd been a young dragoness, something about it felt as hollow as the rooms that she was yet to put her stamp on.
For, when the ranch was complete, Scott would be gone. And Fyr wasn't all that sure that she wanted the stoat who made her heart leap and judder in such strange ways to go all that soon.
Of course, it wasn't as if she'd spoken to him since the kiss, the day that she'd very nearly been caught lip-locked by her very own mother. It had been, simply, far too awkward to even consider. Elbow deep in dishes and warm, soapy water, Fyr shuddered and committed herself to the task at hand, although the stoat crept into her thoughts, that smile and that little twitch of his ears that she had not realised was so appealing until that very moment in time.
He was something special, she could surely admit that. But he wasn't her kind of something special, oh no. Tongue poking out the corner of her lips, she growled and scrubbed furiously at a stubborn bit of hard, dried-on meat, the rest of the plate glistening bar that one, vile spot. No, she liked Ropes and she liked his raw, lustful demon side - even it meant that, well, a lot of the time, he'd have to go and sate that lust elsewhere as she simply couldn't keep up with him. He'd made her heart pound like that before. And now he made her heart pound in a very different way, though it was still an exceptionally good way.
Yet... Oh, what would it be like to be wrapped up in warm and tender arms, to rest her head on a shoulder and let the day slip by? Fyr shivered, drifting away into her own thoughts as she pulled her wings in closer to her back, a secret that was hers and hers alone held close, treasured. His fur had been so soft too, the light brush of his whiskers reminiscent of Ropes' kisses, though the stoat's whiskers were, of course, shorter than the cougar's. One could not change what their species naturally boasted - not that she was claiming. For that moment, she'd take all the short-bristled kisses she could get and so much more too.
But she couldn't. She was with Ropes. Well, Ropes and Sasha, technically. Either way, she was hardly a free dragoness and, as she kept telling herself, perfectly happy with her situation. Perfectly happy. Very happy. Yes. Water sloshed over the edge of the sink, splattering down the cupboard beneath and dripping to the linoleum floor. That floor was curling at the corner of the room too and, although she could not see it as she forced her way brutally through the pile of dishes, she knew it was there and it irked her.
Fyr snarled. Enough! She could think of him no more when there was work to do, so much work to do! Furious with nothing in particular, she fought with dish after dish, piling them beside the drink until everything was shiny and clean, glinting in the ray of sunlight slanting through the kitchen window. And even that sunlight seemed to taunt her with how purely happy it was, light despite everything. The sunshine didn't know what turmoil was roiling in her heart and her gut, her mind battling with her heart as the minutes ticked by, one by one. The day and the world would continue on as if she had no significance at all, her situation nothing at all in the grand scheme of things, yet her havoc was at the very centre of her own world. And who could blame her?
"Fuck!"
Fyr slammed her fist down, the last glass jumping at the edge of the sink, only to topple into the water with a solemn plop. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Fyr gripped the counter, claws clicking as they tried to bite into the surface and found it impenetrable. Slowly, with great focus and care, she scooped the final glass out of the bottom of the sink, scales tingling from the heat of the water, and cleaned it meticulously, turning it in her paws. She'd never before focused so much on the gleam of a single glass but, when she finally put it too on the draining board to be dried, she was a little more at peace than she had been when she'd begun.
Just a little. Not enough.
Left with a spotless kitchen and nothing else left to do, Fyr sighed heavily. The house was clean, tidy and perfectly poised for Ropes and Sasha's return home, whenever they returned home after their exceedingly long lunch date. Could she even call it a date when they acted as if they were as good as married?
It didn't matter. Either way, the work at home was done and there was only one place left for her to go.
Fyr signed, running her fingers around to the back of her neck, although no amount of massaging the soreness would serve to ease it away.
She'd have to go to the ranch.
*
Thankfully, the workers had left for the day, the heat of a Saturday afternoon as summer licked at the doorstep sending them away while they prepared to put the finishing touches on their part of the job. Fyr wasn't entirely sure what was left to do but she had paid the full balance and, even if it all looked right to her eyes, she was more than happy for them to keep going until it was completely and utterly up to their standards. After all, that was just what she'd paid them for, was it not?
It meant too that she wouldn't have the problem of Scott to deal with anymore and, as much as part of her yearned for him to stay, the dragoness knew in her heart that it was for the best. He was a distraction at best and her undoing at worst and she had to protect the life she'd come into with everything she had in her, even if it meant that she wouldn't get to see his smile again.
"I see my own smile every day in the mirror," Fyr declared to the empty ranch house, stomping a foot for emphasis. "So what do I need the smile of a scraggly stoat for?"
The ranch house had no answer for her as she popped her paws on her hips, tail swinging.
"Well?" She demanded, a muscle jumping at the corner of her jaw. "What have you got to say for yourself? You were meant to be this good thing, this great thing, and look at all the unrest you've brought - right into my heart too!"
