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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Seeding a Dragoness Against Her Will
New Year's Eve: it was supposed to be a time of change and it most certainly was set up to be for a dragoness in a time of heat. Sherian flitted through the party, as shy as ever but trying her best to socialise with a bunch of furs that she didn't know. Of course, she had friends there too but it was hard to find them on the big estate, a party that had been set up in the grounds of a stately home due to someone in charge with a friend who knew someone else who owned the place, or something like that. Not that she minded the chance to explore the gardens on her own under the twinkle of fairy lights, although it was still rather chilly to be out in little more than a shimmering, blue blouse that draped down her slender form to highlight her silvery skin.
Sheri smiled and nodded at those she knew, however vaguely, but there was something about the parties between Christmas and going back to work after New Year's Even that seemed to make one feel as if time itself could be suspended. Social norms fell askew and standards of dress grew evermore extravagant as furs of all kinds partied hard to send off the year in the best style they knew how.
Little did she know, however, that there was another dragon at the party who had his eye on her but it was not in a way that she would have been receptive to. No, the little dragoness was too busy trying to mingle in her own shy way to know that she was being followed, a taller, slightly bulkier dragon who could have, perhaps in another lifetime, have been related to her. Of course, Sheri didn't have any brothers and sisters and the silver drake had slightly rounded horns atop his head while she only had soft, floppy ears and a spill of luxurious hair, denoting them as different even though the silver of their skin could be like for like.
And he stalked her as she moved deeper into the gardens, seeking space in which to breathe as she sought peace, a flute of prosecco clutched in her paw (the champagne would surely come later when the clock struck twelve). The dragoness licked her lips and trailed her fingers over branches bare of flowers for the close of winter, imagining the beauty the dormant foliage would spring into with the coming of warmer weather. Perhaps she had too been lying dormant over winter, waiting for spring to come, but she could not have said that her body was resting while the lick and tingle of heat curled sinuously through her body, impossible to ignore.
Yet she strove to ignore it, making her way further into the garden even as her stalker closed in, shifting his weight as he waited on the perfect time. A cardigan was slung over her arm and, as she shivered, she hitched it up over her shoulders, slipping her arms through the sleeves to soothe the chill from her bones, although she would very soon have to seek something just a little more warming or go inside for a while. There was only so long, after all, that she could bear even the intricately designed gardens when the year and the night itself was drawing close to midnight.
The fountain, however, drew her attention and she paused, peering into the depths where small change had been thrown, perhaps by visitors, in the name of making a wish. The statue above it bore the likeness of a dragon and a horse engaged in battle, although the anthropomorphic figure of the horse appeared to be losing, if she read that correctly. It really was funny how fights of olden times were depicted, one always having to be the victor over the other even though no battle had, most likely, had ever been fought.
