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.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Sandor curled forward, his forehead pressed to his knees as he hugged them to his chest. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? The fox was, naturally, a red fox, though there was a white gene in his lineage, which had been passed down to him. He was often mistaken for an Arctic fox, though he did not have the slightly shorter muzzle and thicker, denser fur. If someone knew him for longer, they would also see that his coat colour did not change as he went through the seasons.
"Unngghh..."
It was wrong, all wrong. The fox curled in on himself, dressed in nothing at all, though he tried to tell himself that his fur was covering enough, that he could still protect his modesty when all he had was fur to hide him. His tail tucked around his ankles, thick and fluffy, but it had been matted with damp where clumps of dirt and debris sank into his fur coat. Of course, the captured fox had not been permitted to bathe or clean himself in any way.
He wasn't important enough for that.
All he'd been doing was travelling to one of the larger cities, but it seemed that all the magical goods he'd been transporting had been too much of a target for bandits, too tempting. They'd been on him in seconds, his guards killed, taken down a narrow ravine where there was nowhere for him to go but either forward or back.
Captured and stripped, the fox had been tossed in the back of a locked wagon with water pooling on the floor of it, along with another anthro who looked rather like a wolf. Except for the fact he was green with white fur on the front of his body and white tips to his ears. White hair fluffed up from his head and the back of his neck, in the style of some anthros, although Sandor did not have head fur quite like that himself.
The wolf's head hung and he jerked back and forth with every bump in the road, his muzzle tipped all the way down to his chest. Sandor knew how he felt, so tired he didn't even want to hold his own head up. His head pounded too, from where one of the bandits had struck him. The bandit had only been held off him due to the fact they had said he was merchandise.
So, Sandor had become goods, just like what he had transported before. Though he never would have ever traded in anthros, no, not in any living souls. He'd just wanted to follow the family business and look at how well that had turned out for him.
Maybe if he had followed the path of a mage and not tried to go into the merchant business with his mother, things would have turned out differently for him. The white fox had never even had any training in how to defend himself in the slightest, which had, clearly, worked out terribly for him in the end.
But there was no going back from that point as the wagon rattled and bounced over the uneven road, rocks jostling it as the horses towed it on, perhaps as tired as Sandor felt.
"Who are you?" He said eventually, though it had been hours in the wagon with just the two of them. "How... How are you here?"
"Me?" The wolf grunted, working his tongue around his mouth and licking his lips, trying to re-moisten everything after being so long without talking. "Mmph... I'm Swiftwolf."
"With the word wolf in your name too?"
The wolf glared at him.
"It is a family name."
"I can understand that..." Sandor sighed. "Is your family waiting for you?"
"Yes," Swiftwolf said. "But I doubt they're going to see me again."
Sandor shuddered. Yes... Yes, that sounded about right, considering how dire the whole situation was.
If he didn't see anyone ever again, not his family, not his partner... Well, they had been together, sort of, though there were complications in their relationship.
Alyssa...
No, no. No, he'd do his best not to think of Alyssa. He couldn't. It... He would do his best to get out of there.
When the wagon rolled to a halt, no further conversation having taken place between the fox and the wolf, Swiftwolf sucked in a breath.
"It... It's a brothel."
Sandor flinched.
"What? No... No, you cannot be serious..."
His voice shook, dropping into a more formal manner of speaking, even if it was not natural for him. But, no, no... No, he couldn't believe that, he simply couldn't!
And yet it was true, Sandor kicking and snarling, more out of fear than anything else, as they hauled him from the wagon. Swiftwolf, on the other paw, hung his head, even his tail drooping, though he was a bit more muscular than Sandor and should have been better placed to fight back. Yet the fox did not know what they had threatened him with in order to get him to comply. That wasn't something that Swiftwolf had wanted to reveal, so it was a secret he'd forever keep close to his heart.
"No! I won't do it -- my mother will pay anything you ask! Just let me go -- let me go, I tell you!"
Sandor growled, but a big boar clamped a paw around his muzzle with a grunt and a roll of his eyes.
"Fucking feisty stock, you are," he growled, wrapping a leather bond around his muzzle, keeping it shut by force. "Get in there. All we've got to do is collect our fee -- then we're shot of you. And good riddance to that."
