A New World

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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Jason sweated. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. And it had never gone so wrong before.

In the middle of flying a Jetstar plane, in which he was privileged enough to be taking flight lessons, he ground his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached. There was a problem there, very much so, but he couldn't take his mind off his flight, his lungs too tight to even get a full breath in.

That may well have not been a problem for very much longer, if he could not land the plane. The storm had come out of nowhere and thrown him off course -- though there was so much more to it than that. One of the engines had failed and the plane was tilting more and more, one engine not enough to power it as he lost increased altitude, going down lower and lower, losing control.

"Ah... Fuck!"

He spat the course as if it would change things, though he could only try, turbulence from the storm tossing him back and forth like a rag doll. Jason had never been afraid in the air before but he was terrified then, the cold, sick chill of terror crawling down his spine.

But no... No, he had to concentrate, all as he steered the plane the best that he could, aiming for an open clearing. But that didn't go to plan either as he swore and a strangled shriek broke from his lips, smashing through the trees as coniferous branches lashed the front window of the plane.

And then -- down! Once, twice -- three times: he bounced. But he had to hold on, had to steady the plane, even though he was down, coming to a grinding, smashing halt through the vegetation, though Jason could only be glad that he did not crash straight into any trees. That would have been worse, much worse, huffing and panting, grunting thickly in the back of his throat as his heart hammed.

With the plane at a halt, a stretch of dark ground around him that he was not expecting to recognise, he scrambled from the plane, checking that all his limbs were still intact, that everything was working as it should have. The electrical storm still cracked and lanced above him, but he seemed to be in a dead spot of air, nothing moving around him, not a single breath of air, nothing.

He huffed, trying to check for the emergency signal, though...nothing happened. He hoped that the plane crashing had set off the emergency box in the tail of the plane, an automatic thing, if his dash was not functional, but there was no way to tell.

I'll have to look... See what's around...

He shook his head, staggering, trying to get his bearings, running on adrenaline. He didn't get far, however, before something crackled and closed in around him.

"Agh!"

It was so sudden, adrenaline spiking once more when he had not thought that that was possible anymore, that his heart could not beat and pound any faster than it was already. He fought, shoving back against a white and purple barrier, something like a net that closed around him into a cage-like shape that was only large enough to contain his body while he was standing upright.

And then...Jason really had to pause, absorb what had happened, taking in the reality of his situation. His chest heaved, fighting for air, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, too close to losing control for his liking. But he couldn't control that, not after he'd crashed the plane -- and he didn't even know what else to do!

Now, he was caught, slumping down to the ground, his arms around his legs, holding onto himself for some semblance of support when everything was spiralling so very drastically out of control, increasingly so.

Alone... Out in a wilderness that he did not recognise... And captured by some trembling forcefield-net thing that he didn't even know how to describe.

All he could do was wait, pressing his forehead into his knees, shaking and shaking, stuck there.

He jerked awake. He didn't even realise that he had fallen asleep there, but there was little else that he could have done once he had succumbed to exhaustion.

And... a fox was staring at him. Not a normal fox, no, but one that stood on two legs. With a strangled cry, he tried to scoot himself back but only came up against the back side of the trap, forced to remain there as other two-legged anthros surrounded him. A deer, a badger, an ox, an antelope -- there was even a kangaroo too! Who were they? What even were they?

"I..." He clawed at his throat, his mouth too dry to talk easily. "Who... Who are you? Where am I? Please... Please, help me."

But they spoke in a language that he did not understand, conversing fluently in words that leapt between them as easily as he would have spoken to another person in English. Sadly, for Jason, he didn't know any other languages and he shook his head, thinking that he was dreaming, that he had to be dreaming. But if he was dreaming maybe that meant that the plane crash had been a dream too...

Only, there was a part of Jason that did know that it wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream, not when his lip was split and there were scrapes all over his arms, bruises on his chest where the seatbelt had cut into him on crashing. His legs ached -- well, every part of him ached. No, it was not and could never be a dream.

They pored over him, turning "off" the strange cage. He stumbled, trying to make a run for it, though they were far too swift of him as big, furred hands closed over him. Not all of the anthropomorphic creatures were male either but some seemed to be female, for they had varying levels of attire on them. Some of the males, however, were definitely bare-chested like the bull and the horse, but some that he thought were female had leather jackets that left their midsections bare. No one, however, wore heavy armour made from metal, which he noted, though he didn't know why he was expecting that.

What world did he think he was in?

He swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the pounding of his heartbeat.

"Please... Excuse me..." He tried his best. "I need... I need to speak to someone. I'm sorry, I don't understand you."

But he did understand that they were smiling, shackling him as they conversed in quick, flurried words, a language that leapt from one word to the next as if it was trying to escape the one that had gone before it.

A curious seeming stoat stroked over his arms, running her hands down them. He didn't know, of course, that she thought it was strange to go without fur, looking so unusual, like nothing they had never seen before. And the weirdest thing of all was the fact that he didn't even have any big teeth or claws! Yet, to them, it was not as if he looked like a herbivore either...

It was interesting to them, very interesting. But someone would pay a high price for him.

He was hoisted into the back of a cart and shackled to it, tugging surreptitiously at the iron. It had strange runes inscribed over it and his brow furrowed but, that time, Jason bit his tongue. Maybe it was best to hold his cards close to his chest, at least for the time being.

The world... It was strange. There was a forest but it was a hotter climate than what he was used to, as if they were in a temperate forest: not a place in the world that he was familiar with. Yet Jason thought less and less that he was in his world as the cart, drawn by donkeys, rolled into a town that bustled and swelled with life.

Spicy scents from market stalls lavished attention upon his nose and he took a deep breath even as his nose itched. He shook his head, trying to peer up, though the sides of the cart were quite steep, stopping him from seeing out too far. He could, however, see just a little bit, licking his lips, eyes wide at the sheer number of anthros there, spanning too many species. Some of the alleyways in the town that they passed were narrow, strung across with clothes that seemed to be drying, though he had not seen a style like that in any of the shops that he had frequented for his own clothes before.

It was a poorer part of the town, the houses made of a smooth, yellow-orange stone, though it made them stand out to him. To Jason, they looked more exotic and he didn't know why, why he was there, why a dryer, clinging heat was assaulting his skin. Anthros crowded the card, trying to jump up with him, but they were beaten back by the ones who had captured him.

And...what did that make him? If he couldn't work out how he'd gotten to be there...he wouldn't be able to talk to them. And what did that turn his life into?

He just wanted to get home.

Yet they were...odd. At least to Jason and the Westernised life that he had led before, just a typical person who had access to a flight school, something fun to take him away from the daily grind at least for a little while. The anthros... They didn't seem to want to hide anything. As he got deeper and deeper into the town, heading for a more open area that he supposed was a square or a meeting place, they were...everywhere. And not clothed either. They were doing all sorts of things.

He blushed furiously, yet could not stop himself from staring at a fox down on her knees, sucking the cock of a big, burly wolf. Although they glanced at him as he passed in the back of the cart, they did not pause in their lust.

And there were more -- many, many more.

A rabbit fucking a moose in the missionary position, on top of what looked like it had been a fancier market stall with fine fabrics laid out on it.

A blue jay flapping their wing-arms as they partly took flight, a big reptile that he didn't know the type of ploughing her pussy full.

A mouse sitting on top of a stag, riding his cock.

Not just straight couples either -- there were gay couples, males with males and females with females, and sometimes even those that he was not all that sure about their sex. Some looked more androgynous and, without him being able to see their genitalia, but that was not too much of a point when it came to his situation and the lives that they led. They seemed to come from all walks of life, though it was the more well-off, those with earrings and gold touches around their necks, even markings dyed into their fur, that seemed to be enjoying one another's bodies the most. Perhaps they had more time than the poorer and the working class who, of course, had more to do and fewer chances to enjoy luxuries, even when they were free.

Passionate sex, however, was normal for the anthros, though he did, finally, notice one thing.

There were no other humans there. None. Just him.

That wasn't a good thing.

The cart was taken into the big square, though it was set up with a large, wooden stage, solid and easily strong enough to bear more than a few bodies on top of it. There may have been even room for a bus on top of there -- but he had not seen any buses in that world so far. Maybe they didn't need mechanical things like that. Maybe there was a touch more magic in the air than he could have imagined.

But Jason gulped in what breath he could, pulling at his metal shackles, the cold metal warming to the heat of his body. His clothes were torn and ripped but, well...they still covered him enough and that was okay. That helped a bit.

And yet...it was not to last. Not as he was hauled out of the cart and into the centre of the stage, a few other naked anthros around him, down on their knees, heavy, metal collars around their necks.

He drew in a sharp breath -- but it was too late. They took his clothes from him, slicing through everything that they wanted with their blades, not even nicking his skin. Jason did not understand then that he was merchandise, a prize for those that had captured him, even if they had taken him without even having hunted him.

In his nakedness, he wrenched himself about and fought -- even as they hauled his arms back behind him in heavy, iron shackles. They weighed his wrists down and he clenched his jaw, cheeks burning with humiliation, every part of him exposed.

The rest of it, the auction... It was a blur. A blur of heat, a blur of knowing that he was being watched, that there were so many eyes on him, all over him, boring deeply into him, as if they were seeing so much more than merely his bare flesh. The bidding was rampant, numbers flung out, though he didn't understand the names of them -- only the numbers when some of the richer patrons had servants to bid for them, using their fingers to denote value in currency or sometimes even small notes or signs. They had many ways to bid and the numbers kept going up and up and up, dazzling as they skyrocketed.

And then a gavel came down with a sharp, decisive rap, the raccoon auctioneer pointing at him and saying something with a wide, conniving smile. Jason knew what it meant, his heart sinking, all eyes on his soft cock, everything exposed, without even the ability to cover himself up afforded to him.

That was just how he ended up in the charge of a sleek, black cat anthro with white whiskers and green eyes that would have drawn him in if the situation had not been as dire as it was. His breath caught in his throat but the cat had manacles put on his ankles too with a short chain between them, forced to hobble and walk slowly, not even allowed anything to wear on his feet.

Not yet, at least. The tall feline was a few inches taller than Jason, though they looked as if they came from wealth, dressed in fine but simple cloth with a white shirt that was open at the front and a leather tunic that shone with how well it was conditioned. A great deal of coin was passed from the feline to those handling the money at the auction for him and, although he tried to say something, to gesture, he was brushed aside. They couldn't understand him anyway.

He was fortunate, in a way, as he was taken to the palace, riddled with gold and white, the towers spiralling. He gawked at it, forced to walk all the way up the long road to the palace and through the grounds, topiaries designed to look like rare beasts and objects of desire within the kingdom, the place so expansive that he tried to pull back from it.

"No... Please..." He licked his lips, though his mouth was too dry for any semblance of comfort. "Look, there's been a mistake, I'm sorry... I'm not... I'm not meant to be here!"

But the feline only blinked at him and firmly guided him into a wing of the palace, Jason tripping over his own feet. He wasn't used to walking barefoot, though he had heard that it was supposedly good for him.

Everything... Well, it was a blur. He was presented to a royal, a naga clad in green scales who towered over him, seeming to be easily the height of three grown men, his long, sinuous tail thick with muscle, rippling with power. Gold bands layered his arms and finery draped around his neck, though it seemed to move easily with the serpent-like creature, the emperor of all, the one in power.

Whatever term he was given, it was not important, as long as he knew and understood that the naga was the one that owned him. In his mind, he gave him the title of emperor, though Jason still thought, well...that there was a mistake. That he would be returned home once he was finally able to explain to them what had happened, that he was never meant to come there, even though the serpent with a flared, cobra-like hood around his head, smiled at him, casting his eyes over him as if he was nothing more than a piece of meat to be appraised.

Jason shivered, keeping his head down, cowed. He didn't even dare to speak in front of such power. There was something wrong there, something that he couldn't control, something that, so far, he couldn't do anything about.

Even then, he swallowed the bitter pill of just how limiting a language barrier could be -- and how it was. He shook his head slowly, but was treated with care, even as the servants tried to pause to stare at him.

He didn't need to speak their language to know that they had never seen anyone or anything like him before. There, he was the alien. There, he was the foreigner. It was not a position that he had ever felt so acutely in before, shrinking away from their stares. It helped a little that many of the servants were naked and, in hindsight, that the naga emperor had been naked too. He had not had a cock protruding, however, so Jason could only suppose that it had been tucked away in a slit of some kind, nicely and easily protected.

He tried to talk to them again before they took him to his quarters in a long corridor that had sapphire and gold set into the floor. He could only imagine just how expensive the very ground was that the was walking on at that very moment, almost not daring to put his feet down.

Although he was clean, he was first taken to a bathing chamber at the very end, which was set up with necessities -- though the quality of them was impossible to note as anything but the finest in the land. The bath was set into the floor and could have fit several at once, even as a cluster of tiger anthros surrounded him, dressed with their breasts and genitals exposed.

"Oh, no... No, I can... I can clean myself..."

But they did not care -- or they may have cared if they could have understood him. They may have been kinder still, though they still pulled him close and rubbed up against him, purely as they were intent only on the purpose of bathing him, cleansing him. Washing him from head to toe, they scrubbed him all over, soft clothes and even sponges pressing between his legs, rubbing over his balls and cock.

"Hey -- that's too personal!"

It felt like he was merely watching everything happen to him through a screen, strangely set back from events. If there was a time that Jason was going to think that everything was a dream, however, it would be then, panting and huffing, glad to be unshackled but, really, it was not as if he was free to go anywhere. The quarters that he would be taken to would be locked to prevent the slaves from escaping and there were so many guards around the palace that, really, it would turn out to be an extremely foolhardy mission indeed to even attempt escape.

But it was not where he belonged.

Not as he was taken back to his quarters, which were nothing more than a small room with a bed, on the floor, to sleep on. It looked like it had a mattress on the base and, truth be told, was more than comfortable enough when he did settle himself onto it, even if it was hardly the kind of environment that he wanted to feel relaxed and present in. The back had a small door into a chamber where he could relieve himself into a toilet, though he could not see what happened to it when he pulled the cord to flush it, not even seeing any water wash away his waste. It was not something that Jason thought too much about, considering that he had far more pressing matters to concern himself with.

The front of his cage looked out on the hallway where he had first been led down in the slave quarters. The bars were gold, more than he would have thought that he was worth if he had not seen the bidding war. Sunshine spilt through the windows on the other side, offering him a view of a garden and a pool area, though he could not see too much, for the windows were a little high up. He could see another wing of the palace however, the white and gold reflecting the light beautifully.

He couldn't talk to them but that hardly even seemed to matter anymore. When they brought raw meat for him on a plain platter, he wrinkled his nose at it and shook his head.