In Her Body

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.

---

I huffed, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, though stumbling around town in the early evening, the cool air licking at my coat, didn't really cool the heat inside me.

"Why... Ugh..."

I tucked my head down against the stiff breeze, autumn sweeping in. Some said there was a hard winter coming, but I didn't really believe any of that stuff -- that you could feel the change in the seasons on the air. Mom always did, but she'd always been like that.

My equine ears caught at the hood of my jacket and I grunted as I pulled it up higher. Things always seemed to get stuck in just the wrong spots -- and I still hated that. Even then, it felt like everything was simply trying to get in the way of what my body wanted.

And that was wrong. The trees rustled as I made my way through the park, walking a path that I used to kick a football about on with the other colts -- well, when I was younger. That seemed so long ago and my old friends had long since moved on to jobs and, of course, studies too once they'd become adults. Hell, even I was off to university, but I'd wanted to stay close to home.

"Damn it."

I muttered and kicked at a pile of leaves, though the rustling swish of my bare hoof coursing through them was only mildly satisfying. Mildly. The thing was... Mom was in season. Again. That might not have been such a bad thing, if dad was still around, but he was off working overseas again. He was pretty good at his job, even I had to admit, though working on improving businesses and factories and all that stuff really wasn't what I wanted to get into.

Regardless, the work paid well and took him away at just the wrong time, because mom needed him. Clearly. I didn't want to know that she was in season, of course, which happened roughly around eight months of the year for her, but it was impossible to ignore her scent permeating every inch of the house.

My nostrils twitched and quivered at the memory, heat rushing to my cheeks. Was I so young and immature that I couldn't hold back at the scent of a mare? Yet my sheath plumped out a little more, even then, as my shaft tried to make itself known, thickening out my sheath while it strained to be free once more.

Mom had to know how she affected me and that was even more embarrassing than me knowing she was in season in the first place. She'd been coming out of the shower, only a few days back, with a towel wrapped around herself. I would have just fumbled and got out of her way fairly quickly beforehand, but something had stopped me that time. There was nothing I shouldn't have seen exposed, with the towel wrapped around her, though my nostrils still flared greedily, sucking in gulp after delirious gulp of her sensual aroma. I hadn't been able to help myself, as if pure, feral instinct had gripped me -- and I didn't want to be like that! Much to my chagrin, I'd only been wearing a pair of loose shorts too, not expecting to run into mom or anyone else for that matter around my house that late in the evening. My cock had dropped like it had merely been waiting to be unleashed, pressing out against the front of my shorts. Mom's eyes had dropped -- and I ran for it.

Of course, if I'd been asked about it, I would have said I'd been thinking about the hot mare in my business studies class: one of the introductory courses I was taking on my first semester at university. But mom was, at the very least, tactful. We both may have been embarrassed by what had gone down, but we didn't need to speak about it either.

There was something, however, mom didn't know about. I'd thought she was just down watching a late-night movie; when she was in season, she typically struggled to sleep. That made sense, even if I wasn't entirely clued up on what mares had to go through most months of the year.

Yet when I'd mooched through the back of the living room, heading for the kitchen and a midnight snack, I'd been caught off-guard by her moaning.

"Ohhhh... Jay... Jason..."

Of course, I'd acted like I didn't know a damn thing and high-tailed it out of there. But I hadn't been able to shake the thought of her masturbating from my head and perhaps that had been exactly what had led me to find her in the shower, sneaking down the hallway when I knew she was in there.

I didn't go into the bathroom: of course not. That would have been crazy. But the fact of the matter was that I didn't need to go into the bathroom to hear the bump of her backside, I guessed, against the wall of the shower. Her moans rose, echoing strangely off the bathroom tiles, though she was so loud that even the hiss of the surely steaming shower didn't hide them from my sensitive ears. Most anthros had sensitive hearing, to some extent, but mom must have been so frustrated without having her husband there, my father, that she forgot herself.

And I stayed there too, listening to her as I rubbed my hand over my swelling cock, though it had pushed more slowly from my sheath that time. The door was cracked open and I shamefully peered inside, my ears twitching.

I might have known, so very well, that it was wrong and yet I couldn't help myself, breath hitching and catching in my throat as something tightened around my chest. The hot water and steam filling the bathroom cut off a bit of her scent from my nose, though there were so many pheromones already swimming around the house that it would have been simply impossible to ignore their presence. They were there in every single breath I lustfully dragged into my lungs, overly conscious of the sensual pucker and flutter of my nostrils. Even as my mind tried to forget what was already so very obvious, my body knew exactly what to do, what was needed.

I caught a glimpse of her, that day, her steamy figure outline through the translucent wall of the shower cubicle. I was almost jealous of the tiles she got to press up against at the back and one side of the shower, a part of me (mostly my cock) wishing it was my member she was grinding against, all to satisfy her need.

But, of course, that was just the stallion part of me doing silly things, trying to lust for something I was sure was not there. She was a mare and I was a horny young stallion: what more was there to say about it than that? I shook myself out of my horny stupor, watching her shower, and snuck back to my room after that, humiliation swirling and clawing at the pit of my stomach.

Maybe masturbating to the thought of her wasn't the best idea after all that, but I made sure I locked my bedroom door first. It felt like the best thing to do and the easiest thing too. My hand grasped my grey shaft firmly and slid up the length, the soft skin pulling along with the urgent press of my hand.

"Unff..."

I could hear my own needy grunt in my own ears, as clear as the evening falling softly around me, golden sunshine marking the outlines of long shadows streaking the grass. But I told myself it was nothing more than the scent of a mare in season that had got me going -- and how was I to possibly know it was anything or even that it meant anything else at all?

All I knew then was pleasure, the grind and pump of my hand up and down the length of my cock, even pushing my sheath back a little at the bottom just so I could get a bit deeper. I wanted to use every inch of my cock, greedy for sensation, even as creamy pre-cum bubbled up from the tip, adding a seductive gleam of virile lube to my dick.

I'd cum harder than it felt I ever had before, all to the thought of my mother and my head spinning with her so very alluring scent. So, that was why I'd headed out. Who could have honestly blamed me for both needing some space and air?

A small shop that hadn't been on the edge of the park before caught my eye and, without thinking, my hooves carried me over to it, straight across the grass. It was just a distraction, I told myself, though I didn't want to be out of the house either. It felt, in a way, like I was being chased out, but mom had just as much a right to her own private space and time in there as I did. I just wished her seasons weren't screwing with my mind as much as they were.

The shop turned out to be something like a thrift store...but more like an antiques shop? It was hard to pin down just what the place was all about as I picked through the open shelving, books even stacked up on the floor as if the owner simply didn't have enough space to display everything. China models lined one shelf and I eyed the lines of porcelain horses dubiously. It was always weird finding a model or something like that of one's own species. Especially when they were feral, like those in the world that were like us -- but usually without anthro intelligence.

That said, anthros could be pretty dumb at times too. That was true.

"Huh..."

I muttered under my breath, the old, musty scent of the shop working its way into my nostrils. Picking up an old book that looked to have runes outlined on the front (I remembered that from an online game I'd been obsessed with at one point), I flipped through it. Some of it was legible, some pages rubbed out or faded, but it was the notes in the margins that caught my attention.

Take one and change another

Between heart and soul

See another

I shook my head.

That's so weird.

It seemed like a book about magic and, supposedly, how to do spells. It at least lightened my book some and I entertained myself flipping through it, checking out further pages and the notes made in the margins. Someone had obviously cared about a weird, kooky little book of so-called "magic" and "spells" enough to make notes on it -- and it was that which caught my attention. Why had they done that? Maybe that was a little of the critical thinking part of one of my other courses coming into play. University certainly was getting me to look at the world around me differently.

I glanced outside, sighing at how the light was fading. I didn't mind walking back in the dark, though even I was aware there were some dodgy parts that I had to walk home through -- and I didn't want to get into any trouble. I was more of a peacemaker than a fighter and I still didn't think my lightly built body could throw all that much of a punch.

Maybe that's something dad can teach me when he's back?

At least, I hoped so. I needed to spend more time with dad.

Purchasing the book, I headed home with it tucked into the palm of my hand and slipped into the house, breathing a sigh of relief when my mother seemed to be up in her room. At least that let me grab a bite to eat in the kitchen before slipping up to my bedroom and relative solitude, even if her musky, somewhat spicy scent infiltrated every corner of the house, finding corners I didn't even know of to seep into.

I lay on the bed on my front, my tongue tingling from the apple turnover snack I'd pinched quickly from the kitchen. Mom would probably see that it was missing and scold me for being as ravenous as ever, though I found I didn't really mind her gently telling me off like that. It was kind of our thing and I knew, even though I was an adult, she didn't mind me taking food like that when I was hungry. Now, if I took her Chinese food leftovers: there'd be war.

I read through the book, musing over the notes and additions, squinting from time to time to try to make out what some of the more faded pages said. It was hard going -- but interesting enough that it at least somewhat kept my attention, which was exactly what I needed. I needed to not think about mom, but the book contained something strange that had her wandering into my mind all over again.

"This is...weird..."

It was not the first time I said that as I traced my finger over the line of text in the book, following a ritual that, apparently, would allow "me" to possess someone else's body. It was clearly crazy, though it still lured me in. Just how many shows and movies had I watched, over the years, where the characters had been body-swapped -- or even transformed? The idea that one could be transfigured from one form into another, or slip into someone else's mind, had always called to me in a strangely fascinating way.

Just out of purely non-sexual curiosity, I was sure. At least, until my mother's seasons had started getting in the way of me just going about my daily life.

The ritual said that I could take over the body of another while they slept and just use it...like it was mine.

Eh... It's just something silly to maybe masturbate to.

I smirked and shook my head. There was a hot mare in my business class, I had to admit. With a rich, chestnut coat and a long, flaxen mane and tail, it was all I could do to concentrate when I was sitting near her. Of course, that was entirely on me and I would never have dreamed of making it her problem, but I would never have denied there was an intense attraction there.

I should really, at least, kind of try to ask her out...

But not that night. Not as I lay down on bed, on top of the sheets, only wearing a pair of loose, comfortable boxer briefs. My sheath and balls filled out the "pouch" at the front nicely, though I didn't feel insecure wearing them either. If there was one sensation I hated, it was feeling my junk just flopping around all over the place. Ugh.

So, all I had to do, to tease myself a little, was fall asleep thinking of Roku and...maybe I'd wake up in her body?

Jeez, I'm weird sometimes.

But it was my own kind of weird and even that was kind of comforting from time to time. I stretched out in bed, the bedside lamp off, eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

I thought of the smooth, sharp curve of her cheekbones, how they seemed so defined that a part of me ached to kiss along them and up her jaw. I wanted to feel her soft lips against mine and explore her mouth in a kiss.

On a less sensual side, I wanted her humping and grinding against me, panting heavily as I groped her tits. Maybe that wasn't as sweet but, hey: I was horny.

So, I fell asleep thinking of Roku and her wit and her smile, how she made me melt when I was around her. That was a much better way of being around a mare and enjoying her company than lusting for my mother, purely because it seemed like she was in near-constant season around me.

Damn that...

Before I fell asleep, my mind wandered from Roku and I saw my mother's bay hide in the shower. The brown of her coat had barely been visible through the steamed-up shower cubicle panel, but it had been more than enough for me to fill in the gaps of her glutes, her thighs, the smooth softness of her belly. Mom definitely didn't have visible abs down there, but she had large, full breasts that definitely seemed to defy her age.

And I could imagine her hand between her thighs, masturbating her thick folds and teasing over the plump rise of her clit as she sought to fulfil her own needs. There was nothing more, after all, a mare like her could do when they were in need and I didn't blame her for trying to ease the heat in her through any means possible.

If only she had not been the last thing I'd thought of before drifting off to an uneasy slumber.

Continued in part two of two...