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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Bound by His Gloves
Dai shouldn't have bought the gloves but they travelled home with him anyway in a little pink bag, wrapped up in paper tissue. The brown-furred bunny quickened his step as he entered his home, wanting that door closed on his heels against the cold of the night outside, although he was anything but cold in his fur and skin. After what he'd done, his skin still prickled with an uncomfortable heat, his embarrassment sticky in his pants and maleness still very much requiring attention in the hygiene department. The bathroom on the train, after all, had not sufficed at all in cleaning himself up on the journey home.
Dai shuddered, half-closing his eyes. Oh, it was all too much, really too much. Jerking off where he had... But, no, it had not been him, not at all. But what if it had? Had he imagined that the gloves had taken control, dancing about and masturbating him merrily to an explosive climax? Could his mind have been twisted that far from reality? What even was reality?
Dai pressed his lips together to hold back a whimper that could have been of lust or frustration: he didn't want to know which it was that would actually burst from his lips. Besides, he had plenty of other things to keep his mind occupied in the evening to come, even if everything was about to be turned on its head, just as it already had been that day.
Putting the gloves away, shakily, in the cupboard where he kept all of them in his bedroom, he promptly ascertained to forget about them for the time being. What had happened in the shop, the gloves masturbating him... He shivered at the memory, still so fresh in his mind. Well, that was something that should not have happened, not in any sense of reality. But his world didn't seem to reside much in reality anymore and he licked his lips, Dai trying to set his mind, instead, to dinner. There had to be something he could whip up in the fridge, surely?
His stomach grumbled and Dai chuckled lightly to himself as he rummaged, going through the motions of making dinner, just like he did every night. It was easy enough to slip into the routine and he took solace in it as the frying pan hissed, oil sizzling away nicely ready for a quick stir-fry of leftover bits and bobs.
His mistake, however, was in forgetting the gloves. Far from idle, the magical satin flickered to life in the confines of the bag, wriggling and rustling through the obscenely noisy tissue paper until they freed themselves into the darkness of the clothing cupboard. Of course, it was set up to display every last pair of gloves he owned with his favourites to the front, although the bag had been shoved to the back in his haste to push them out of sight, at least for the moment.
That didn't matter to the gloves, however, that flitted about within the cupboard as if they weighed nothing at all, brushing sensually against each and every pair he owned as if with the sweetness of a lover's kiss. Some were moulded onto display models of 'hands' - his very favourites - and they were the first to shiver, rippling to life much as the first pair, the violet satin with black beading around the wrist, had, fluttering around as if they had every right in the world to move as they did. Amongst the satin and few specimens of silk - he was picky about those - there were a few latex and leather pairs amongst the others, but it usually took a special kind of mood for Dai to get those out for some fun, whether he was alone or spending a sultrily sweet evening with a like-minded partner.
There should have been tootling music on in the background as the satin mischief-makers bounced and flounced from glove to glove until it had all it desired, ready for some more kinky fun that could only spell trouble for their unfortunate (or fortunate) new owner. Unlocking the cupboard from the inside, they pinged out into the bedroom, finding the light switch on the bedside table to cast the bed into a low, flattering glow that was easy on the eyes with night having fallen on the outside.
There was only one thing missing and the satin gloves stood to attention, directing the rest of their ensemble as they pleased to gather the required material - with time being of the essence before they were discovered, they would all just have to make do - while they found the object of their attention. The gloves, after all, were no longer inanimate objects to be worn, adorned and, yes, made into a fetish too, but their owner could be made such, if they only served to act with due haste and quickness to take what they needed to keep their magic strong.