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.
*****
Darkness had fallen across the countryside and the absence of bright, city lights allowed the bubble of a world to observe the graceful stars, twinkling cheerily in the galaxy above. The clock in the village, not a great distance away, struck eleven, the chimes ringing out eerily and lingering for longer than was entirely necessary, drawing the indignant hoot of a Barn Owl from his nest. It was only the startling crescent of the solemn moon that bore witness to a slinking, solitary figure that darted in a straight line towards the refurbished farmhouse that the couple, Fyrdrgon and Ropes, called home.
Hiss sighed heavily; there were still lights on in the house, so that meant that one or the other of his parents - or sister, though he worried less about her - was awake and waiting for his return. The young cougar scuffed a foot along the dusty road, dawdling as long as possible, pondering how much easier life would be for him if they still lived in the city, or even somewhere with a larger town within paw's reach. If that had been the case, he could have said that he was out at a bar or pub for the evening; the village pub was nothing to boast of and the patrons didn't have anything to speak of that interested Hiss, so any lie involved The White Hart would not be believed.
Unable to delay further, he gathered the scraps of his courage and stalked up to the front door, setting his shoulders and opening it with all the confidence that he could muster. It made an ominous creak as it opened and Hiss winced involuntarily, his two tentacles, which sprouted from his back and were inherited from his demon father, shrinking back instinctively. Like a disgraced cub, he slunk into the living room, finding his mother, Fyr, plaiting his sister's hair while his twin sat in a straight-backed chair, content at the attention. Mumbling a 'hello' and a whispered apology, he made to retreat but was stopped in his tracks, as expected.
"Where've you been, Hiss?" Fyrdrgon muttered, flicking her red scaled tail anxiously even as she concentrated on weaving a long plait into Helena's yellow mane. Hiss' mind fogged over and he scarcely heard what his mother had to say, too busy was he with taking in her appearance with a sweeping glance, her casual, loose house clothes doing little to hide her crimson figure with a yellow underbelly and sharp stripes. "You missed dinner again. Just where have you been going?"
Hiss coughed lightly into his paw, tentacle tendrils writhing in guilt and anxiety. How could he tell her? He didn't suppose that there was anything technically wrong in what he was doing, but his mother would never approve. His father, perhaps. He would have to ask his father about it... He surely would have some advice and would not take it badly. Yes, he would tell his father. Fyr stilled suddenly, coming to her own conclusion while Hiss was lost in thought and internal debate.
"Is it a girl?" Fyr chuckled, glancing up, her eyes bright with the thought. She would love if her son had a sweetheart on his arm again.
"Um... Yes, it is a girl," Hiss confirmed with some relief, though it was only half the truth - Fyr was not to know that.
"So are you going to bring her home for us to meet?" Fyr smirked playfully, throwing a hair tie at his muzzle, which the cougar dodged. "My, my, my little boy all grown up!"
"Mother," he rolled his eyes dramatically, ignoring Helena's giggle. "I've had girlfriends before."
Fyr nodded in agreement; she was only teasing her cub, after all. With Helena's plait complete, she patted her daughter on the head and the dragoness, who was the spitting image of her mother, bar the younger dragoness' two pairs of breasts (which made clothes shopping an atrocious challenge), leaped up to hug her mother in thanks. Making good his escape, Hiss fled from the room, leaving Fyr with a shower of questions that she wished to pepper him with. His bedroom was a safe haven with a sturdy, little lock, but his beating heart hoped that Fyr would be satisfied with his half-arsed explanation for a little while longer. He sank on to his bed with a groan, the soft, laundered sheets comforting beneath his paws. Turning his muzzle to the side, he nuzzled sleepily into the pillows and almost immediately felt himself beginning to drift off, clothes on and all. But as he was fading into blissful unconsciousness, a stray thought flitted across the forefront of his mind:
Fyr couldn't know that he was fucking the neighbour just yet.
*
It was with trepidation adequate to his son's the previous night that Ropes left his home the next morning. Dressed to ward off the morning chill, he cast his eyes warily over the misty hills, a touch of rain bearing ill on the air. He could not hang around forever though and he padded along the damp road, thankful for the walking boots that protected his hind paws from the elements; he hated to get his feet cold. The cougar sighed heavily, breath rasping in his lungs and pulling his navy coat closer around his broad chest. A small, brown leather handbag swung gaily from his tightly clenched paw.
Why can't she give the damn bag to her herself? He grumbled, hoping that his claws were scoring holes into the fine leather, sullying it before it would reach her paws. I've done a fine good job of avoiding that dragoness since the party - why does all that work have to go to hell now? Damn my wife... And damn that bitch too.
Aeonn, who was to receive the little bag, lived but a short way down the narrow, country road, though Ropes was loathe to see her again. They had engaged in a short but electric liaison together, without Fyr's knowledge, and had parted on less than friendly terms. Ropes had a nasty feeling that the silver dragoness was planning something because she had been strangely quiet for the past month, avoiding him at every step, which he by far preferred, if he was honest. The incident where Aeonn had asked his wife to pick up a custom leather bag for her upon a trip to the city seemed too much like an excuse than a friendly request. What was so special about a bag? She knew that Fyr was busy working and she also knew that Ropes was free for the majority of the weekdays. It was too perfect. She wanted Ropes for something. But what?
He jumped the fence into Aeonn's tumble-down garden and rapped his knuckle smartly upon the door, noticing that she was yet to touch up the paint or make any of the improvements that she had had in mind. He smirked at the thought that he had a better, more comfortable home than her and was able to motivate himself to undertake unpleasant tasks. Yes, he thought: he was better than her. When the door opened, he began speaking without the preliminaries, his eyes wandering the hallway somewhere above the dragoness' blue-haired head.
"Hi, Aeonn," he said politely, holding the bag up. "Fyr asked me to give this bag to you, something you spoke about. I'm afraid I can't stay, I really must be quick today. Hope it's what you wanted."
The dragoness observed him silently, crossing her arms over her ample chest. For once, she was conservatively dressed in smart, blue jeans and a flowing, white top that draped over her curves, accentuating but not crudely flaunting them. Her breath smelled faintly of mint and Ropes twitched his tail anxiously, wishing that he knew the reason behind her silence.
"I think you should come in for a moment," she said coolly, drawing a claw-tip delicately along her jaw line.
Ah, there it was.
"And why's that?" Ropes started, meeting her eyes for the first time that day. "Why should I?"
"Because there's something you should know."
He didn't know whether it was because he really wanted to know whatever it was or whether he was caught up by the dragoness' allure once more, but Ropes followed her inside, closing the door quietly at his heels. She corralled him into the living room, the fireplace and cream rug just the same as they had been on that first night, drawing on both pleasant and unpleasant memories for the cougar. Aeonn pointed towards the sofa, narrowing her sharp eyes.
"Sit."
