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.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
-----
Kyrrai sweated heavily, the training area around him and Drogoz the wyrin familiar. His muscles ached, black hair hanging across his face, though that was merely as it had come loose from where he'd had it tied back. His trainer and master, Drogoz, grinned widely, thought the dragon-type wyrin had, to be fair to him, warmed to Kyrrai over the last year. That was something, at least, though Kyrrai had not thought that he would get anything more from the wyrin than a huge piece of meat under his tail, fucked raw until sunrise.
"Not bad," Drogoz rumbled, inclining his blocky horns. "But you still cannot defeat me."
It was stated cockily, as if it was still a triumph to the dragon to take his win in every battle. Kyrrai could not remember a time when he had won, though that was why he was in training under Drogoz. The wyrin with his anthro-type body and huge, cannonball shoulders boasted far more prowess that, honestly, he thought he could ever own. But he was willing to try, especially when he was serving under the dragon, fucking every night, grunting, moaning, his arse now willingly accepting the wyrin.
"But your training must continue if you are to be of any use to me," Drogoz added quickly, as if that tiny hint of praise he had given, merely the shadow of what it could have been, had been too much as it was. "You would be a hindrance in a real battle..."
Of course, even though he'd made decent progress as a fighter, Kyrrai knew that that was all he was going to get out of Drogoz. Yet he knew too what the wyrin meant as he licked his chops wetly, his large, blocky jaw swinging back and forth lightly, so slightly that only someone who knew him intimately could have honestly told what it meant.
But Kyrrai knew as he was dragged down over an empty spear rack that the training session was ending just the way that he wanted it to, his arse in the air, the wood of the rack pressing into his lower abdomen, just in front of his hips.
"Oh, fuck..."