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.
*****
"You're freakier than I gave you credit for, Gwyn..."
The wolf smirked and sat back, preparing his piercing tools as his playmate for the evening lounged on the table, flicking through a magazine with a bored gaze, the tattoo and piercing parlour so familiar to her by that point that it didn't even warrant her attention. After hours, it was deserted bar herself and the owner, Flint, who rocked back comfortably in his chair, as at ease in his parlour as he would have been on his own couch, black fur shedding on the cushions.
The cat yawned widely, showing a set of pearly whites in a shade to match the purity of her coat, though there was nothing untainted about her soul.
Oh no, Gwyn was far gone from the purity of her younger days.
A wild child at heart, Flint knew that she was between jobs and was a freak in the sack, which seemed more than enough information for him to invite her round again and again, even if none of their liaisons could be classed as a date. And, even though he had not known Gwyn for all that long, she seemed nice enough. A pleasant feline dodging the responsibilities of life by seeking out sex. And what kind of wolf would he be if he so easily turned down some fine kitty-ass?
"Are you ready for this? You know what you want doing to ya?"
Gwyn shrugged and rolled her shoulders.
"Make me look sexy, Flint," she whispered, eyes locked onto his. "You see what everyone's getting these days. What's hot and up and coming right now?"
He scratched the end of his nose.
"I know you just want to have some fun here, but really shouldn't you have some kind of idea what you want, 'ey?"
She hissed and narrowed her eyes, tail lashing.
"Don't get tame on me now, puppy. You know you want to see a kitty all pierced up and shiny with metal."
Flint's ears twitched and he almost bared his teeth, catching himself in the nick of time. Not that it would have mattered, but showing one's teeth only had due effect if reserved for certain circumstances.
"I'll do you something right special, kitty-cat, don't you fret."
She purred, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Now that's more like it."
Sitting up, she dragged her tight sleeveless shirt -- emblazoned with lyrics from some edgy band -- over her head and tossed it aside. Her bra met the same fate and she shimmied out of her ripped jeans, glancing over the privacy divider to the shop window where rain dotted the glass. A police car wailed past, its lights briefly illuminating the droplets of water with blue, but she paid it no mind, quivering with expectation of what was to come.
"I'm ready for you," she purred, running her paws down the body that he'd spent more than one night cramming full of his shaft and knot. "Where would you like to begin on your canvas for the evening?"
Flint selected a piece of jewellery out of her sight and fitted it to the piercing gun. Although the feline had never paid much attention to her causal fuck's equipment before, she gave a shiver of anticipation as he swapped both breasts with a fur-cleansing wipe that would penetrate right down to her skin. All of his tools would be sterile, regardless, but infection as not a desirable look on any lady.
"What are you doing?" Gwyn craned her neck to see as his muscled arm blocked her vision. "Can I look?"
