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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"Hey, Fyr."
"Oh, you're back?"
The dragoness popped her head out from the downstairs office, a pen between her teeth. She frowned a little when she saw Limba, but, well, he was enough of a common fixture around there those days. The dragoness resisted saying something to him and offered a fixed yet friendly smile instead.
As friendly as she could manage, that was.
"Were you out somewhere?" Fyr said, trying to be casual as she joined them in going through to the kitchen, Ropes after a coffee. "I thought your car was still outside, Ropes..."
The cougar shrugged.
"Eh, just out for a walk before it gets much colder," he said, for the bite of winter would well and truly be upon them. "Doing work around here is going to suck when it really freezes."
Limba was glad that he didn't have to worry about things like that, even if ice could give him a bit of trouble in the winter months for the course of his work.
The dragoness slid a sidelong glance at him, however, even as she tidied up in the kitchen, seeming to always need to be in motion, always needing to be doing something. Limba smiled, but it didn't soften her at all. Maybe she liked being on edge like that, but that wasn't for Limba to worry about.
One thing that Fyr was excellent at doing, however, was playing the part of the host. In no time at all, considering that it was mid-afternoon already on a very grey kind of day, she had a sauce for pasta simmering down on the stove, thickening as the flavours infused, fresh pasta ready to go and the meat ready to add too. She didn't have the time to make fresh tortellini or ravioli, but it would be delicious and creamy, all the same.
"Did you know that Limba's pregnant, Fyr?"
Of course, Ropes had to ruin her strange sense of peace, his words sending a strange spike of heat into her loins. Fyr had been just about to serve up dinner, Ropes and Limba at the table in the kitchen, though Limba, at least, had offered to help. She had noticed just how he had slipped around her, doing the washing up while she had been otherwise occupied with the cooking.
Her heart pounded, but she was not angry. Not even if her smile was a little wobbly as her eyes went from Ropes' to Limba's and back again. Not even as her stomach leapt and churned, sickeningly, but in a good way, her thighs pressed together as the heat of her arousal flared up.
Who did the child belong to?
Ah, but she wouldn't ask.
"That's wonderful," she said, brushing her fingers back against the frills on her face, though her smile grew swiftly stronger. "Wow... Okay, it's not much of a surprise... Are you happy about that, Limba? I mean, how do you feel about it all?"
The pony smiled and half-shrugged.
"I've known for a little while," he confessed. "But I didn't know what to think about it, at first, it's going to change a lot of things for me. But I have family around and friends and I think it's all going to be okay. I'm looking forward to it!"
He blushed and turned away, the last bit coming out quickly, though Fyr softened. She recognised the worry in his eyes, the slight tension that remained in the set of his jaw.
Oh, Limba...
"If you haven't taken a look at pregnancy books, I have a couple here that I ended up with from my friend, from way back when Ropes and I first moved in together," she said. "I'll have a dig through and see what I can find for you."
It was how she was, always, someone who was looking out for those around her. Yet no one told her whether the child belonged to Ropes or Kao and, frankly, she didn't want to assume. Even though Ropes was her husband and Limba was her friend, it seemed too forward, for her position, to say anything about his pregnancy, though the thought was there.