Salamander Stud

This erotic story features anthropomorphic (furry) characters, intelligent humanoid beings with both animal and human characteristics.

"Salamander Stud"

SHORT STORY

Author's note:

sequel to 'Salamander Slut' and 'Salamander MILF'.

Trace's skin felt desiccated, adding to the mounting frustrations of her day. She sat at a desk in a temperature-controlled room; around her the trappings of office life and the mundanity of the outside world wormed their way into her peripheral vision. Between stacked cabinets and empty chairs she worked, pen in hand, scribbling notes on complicated forms. Aching for a dip in her pool, a return to water. To soak and salve the dryness and the irritation of long hours away from a source of moisture. Her ancestral longing for the long-forgotten swamps of prehistory -- a fragment of her hybridised heritage -- did not abate.

No chance of mist-sprayers running while she worked, unless the Amphibian Research Centre was okay with her paperwork dissolving before she'd submitted it. Which was a downside of employment here: you didn't always get to be in your ideal environment. Even her looks showed the conflict between her nature and her profession. Spectacles, making her look prim. A salamander-librarian...not at all the standout babe she knew Chris lusted over.

Chris.

"Hmm," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. The legs creaked as her tail shifted her centre of mass back. A long tail of clothing accompanied her biology -- Trace was wearing a strange mix of styles. On the outside a plain lab-coat, white...off-white in patches where dirtied. Beneath that, a flexible one-piece swimsuit that formed itself around her body in a tight seal with little left to the imagination.

She stretched. Tedium tearing her mind to shreds. Her webbed feet stamped flat against the floor and nudged her chair up on its rear two legs. Arms outstretched, she greeted the dull silence of the office room with a clatter as she dropped back to her original posture.

While she paused and let her mind wander, her colleagues entered. Some human, some anthro. But above all else, some company.

"Gah! I'm so dry and itchy..."

As the room filled with busy people, one approached her. A woman. Human. Had definitely heard her complain. The smile on her face said as much...

A smile that revealed itself to have sinister motivations as in a flourish a fresh sheaf of papers appeared from underarm and landed onto Trace's workspace.

"Well you can relax once we've filed these for journal submission. Deadline's Friday, and I'm not having my only assistant flake out on me, like

last

time."

"Come the fuck on Alice...Ms. Alice!"

"We all have jobs to do too,

Ms. Trace

. I've completed my sections, now it's your turn."

Trace grimaced and lowered her glasses. A desiccated hand picked up the first page, the coarseness of the paper as it wrapped around her webbed, three-fingered hand evident in the uncomfortable sensation of touching, gripping...handling yet more work.

She gave a weak laugh and turned to her superior. "I know. I've had a long day."

"Hopefully this will be the last long day for a while," the female human replied. "Department's due a break soon."

Trace sighed. She was still a bit dumb. Well, not dumb...just less academically-inclined than many of the humans at the ARC. Chris was the big nerd. Not her. A lingering aspect of her old life as Trey the human dude-bro. A reminder of her past. And Chris...

She missed him.

"If you're struggling I can help," came another voice, another female. This time amphibian like herself. The human named Alice had since left Trace's side, in her place was an ARC resident of similar seniority: her good friend Beth.

"Thanks, but it's just boring. Not hard. I need to finish this myself."

Her fellow salamander ignored her request and pulled up a chair. "C'mon girl, let me help. I do the same work as you."

"Alright fine. Here," Trace said, dumping part of her workload straight into Beth's damp lap. "Aw shit," she quickly followed with, snatching the papers back before they were ruined, "you didn't tell me you were swimming!"

"I can afford to have fun on my breaks, I don't have kids to check up on and no man to split the effort with."

"Shut up you, and grab a towel before you start 'helping' me..."

Only now glancing up at her grey-skinned friend, Trace saw the moisture glisten -- a coat of shimmering delight, taunting her. Her skin prickled at the comparative wetness.

She let slide the remark about her single motherhood. Chris wasn't gone for good, he was just...he'd be back. Hopefully soon.

And hopefully soon I'll have this all done. Then I can relax with a cocktail and a nice long soak.

"So," Beth asked, having given herself a once-over with a large towel, "how are they?"

"Good. You haven't been working at the nursery for a few months so I took charge of their care. No first words yet...I'm looking forward to that..."

Trace was supposed to journal her kids development, and that was easier said than done when you have a bunch of rambunctious infants crawling all over the place. Her friends and colleagues helped her out though. In many ways. Professionally, and as a courtesy to a dear friend and semi-aquatic comrade.

"It was getting hectic there too," Beth said. "Lotta moms. All kinds of species."

"That's why you bailed, was it?"

"

Hmphf!

Your kids...and at most a couple of the other salamander pairs maybe...that's what I was okay with managing. Not the zoo it's become!"

Her friend pouting in the corner of her eye, Trace watched long black lines of ball-point ink scrawl their way across seas of white. Beth occasionally interrupted her thinking with a thought or two of her own and while welcome, they didn't do anything to alleviate the shitty mood Trace was feeling.

True. Beth had been overworked, as had they all. The Centre had to step in with extra manpower, but finding qualified candidates to care for experimental lifeforms was not an easy task.

The amount of nannies employed by the ARC who'd up and quit trying to handler her brood (let alone the many offspring of other residents) caused no end of trouble with her bosses -- and Trace had seen herself in a new light: fiercely protective of her children.

Try talking her little ones down in front of this tiger momma!

That's a tad harsh. She actually got on well with her human helpers. Most of the time.

...

Half of the time.

...

Sometimes.

...

Well, at least they're there.

Trace growled as she read a passage from one of the reports. Awaiting her sign-off was a log of week-long monitoring: the growth, health, and developing intelligence of her children. What read as a simple, clinical overview of the situation dripped with hidden meaning.

Perhaps she shouldn't have cussed out that nanny and called her a quote: 'brainless, hairless ape-slut'.

Even her insults had adjusted themselves according to species. That's what happens after years of living apart from humanity. Her biological alma mater. The ol' pinkskins. Homo sapiens sapiens.

Heh, homo...

Homo sapiens, meet homo salamandridae. I got fangs, poison glands, and gills. What you got? Huh?

As her inner monologue continued to trash-talk her old species, Trace read further. Birth registration numbers were listed for each of her kids, as well as their parentage. Chris' name burned into her vision as she stared at the page. Alongside it, a painfully impersonal declaration:

Absentee parent.

It was one of the stingier diagnoses. One that some said may affect her kids' development. Trace usually scoffed at this kind of thinking. Quite how this would negatively affect a gaggle of gurgling infants still in the process of mastering object permanence was lost on her. Someone just wanted to piss her off, she supposed.

Well you wouldn't let me keep their father here on a permanent basis so go figure that one out, brainiacs...

Maybe they did it on purpose. Rile her up to see what reaction they got.

If they're doing that as part of some test I'm not aware of there'll be hell to pay. Let's see how their smart-ass comments fare when I bite their fucking faces off!

"You okay?"

Trace snapped out of her day-dream and turned to Beth. "Nothing. Nothing...just tired. And cranky."

"You sure?"

"Ahh...I just wanna go and sleep somewhere dark and damp and slimy."

And with my boyfriend there to cuddle with me.

...

Trace sighed.

Come back soon, Chris...

* * *

At last the trials of clerical labour were at an end. Trace was free for the rest of the day to pursue her own comfort. At least, that was the thought when she left the offices and strolled back through the complex, greeting passers-by.

She met Greg, Beth's partner, outside the medical labs. He was awaiting a routine physical, the same kind of check-up she'd had to endure on the regular. All those doctors and scientists poking and prodding. Taking notes. Making comments!

It was enough to make you forget the plentiful amenities and alluring salary paid to residents of the ARC. Almost enough...

They commiserated about their lives and the oh-so-onerous burden of having to work for a living alongside luxurious purpose-built accommodation and facilities for their kind. Their words, rich with obvious sarcasm, brought a smile to Trace. Her shitty mood was fading. A spring developed in her step.

Continuing her whistle-stop tour of local haunts, she ran into Missy -- the spunky frog girl she'd come to know and love as her 'bestie'. She was managing a consignment of food to the facility's canteens, barking orders at several human staff members and carrying a tense look. Trace sought to raise her spirits in tune with her own attempts to brighten up.

"Hey Missy!"

"Oh, hey Trace. You finished for today?"

"Yep," she said, coming to a halt next to the more diminutive figure of Missy. "Delivery trouble?"

"Our grocery shipment came in late. Had to pull these guys from their assigned shifts to process it," she answered, gesturing to the three humans helping her. "I tell ya, the suppliers fucking up their timetables is getting a whole lot more frequent."

"Good ol' human incompetence," Trace joked then looked at the other staff with a sheepish grin, "no offence!"

One shook his head and kept working. Missy frowned at her. "Oi! These are my staff -- only I get to bully them."

Trace sniggered. "When you're not cleaning up the catering department's mistakes, how's life treating you?"

"Can't complain, honeybuns. You?"

"Dried up like all hell. I need a swim -- wanna swing by my place when you're finished here?"

"Um, sure...maybe," Missy pressed her finger to her chin in a pensive gesture, "I'll message you later if I'm free -- you know how it is. Work an' all."

"I do, yeah. Okay then, this babe needs to get wet soon or she's going to lose it!"

Missy gave her a teasing stair and blew a kiss in her direction as Trace waved goodbye. Truthfully, despite their bond, she gave little regard to her friend's supply woes:

Commissary-schmommissary. Cafeteria-schmafeteria. As long as the vending machines next to the first aid clinic and the lower rec rooms have my favourites I'm happy.

* * *

Everyone's busier these days,

she thought, walking through the vast complex of corridors and special living/recreation spaces for the ARC residents.

I can't remember the last time we were this short-staffed.

God, it would've been when I first joined. Before my promotion.

Before my breeding.

Before Chris...

Trace stopped at a vending machine and tapped the screen. The digital display filled with a variety of strange and exotic beverages. Trace however, kept things simple, and selected a medium-size temperature-controlled coffee, suitable for cold-blooded consumption. Chilled, though she usually took it lukewarm; she needed the wake-up shock.

"Maybe that's why they're so keen on the transfer," she said to herself, standing alone in the corridor. "Get some fresh blood in from another site."

Her mind turned to snippets of news overhead from senior management of the Centre. As she sipped her coffee and walked on, memories of planning meetings, and of her research supervisor Ms. Alice commenting about the upcoming staff transfer from somewhere on the West Coast, floated in the dulled synapses of a sleepy salamander mom in need of some shut-eye.

Ugh. Personnel. Glad I don't have to fret over hiring decisions.

Slowly, her brain cells fizzled back to life with the infusion of caffeine and the icy sensation spreading outwards from her stomach as she drank. Sleep soon became the last thing on her mind as the fatigue dissolved in the bitter yet welcome taste of her libation.

Home. Pool. Then I can relax.

Turning a corner, she ran into the last person she wanted to see:

"Um...

uhh

...Ms. Trace! There you are!"

A startled human greeted her with a high-pitched voice. Her latest Centre-appointed nanny. Short, fair-haired; a girl just shy of her twenty-first birthday. Subordinate to her and nervous of the fierce mother's wrath. An intern -- possibly a sophomore in college -- and aware of her demanding maternal reputation and the churn rate of prior assistants.

"What is it Carly?" Trace asked, keeping a neutral tone.

Flustered and short of breath, she answered: "I um, need you to come to the nursery. It's close to dinnertime and we need you to...um..."

Trace sighed, looking down at her chest. "Of course--I forgot the time," she murmured. With the option of hitting the pool and moistening her dry skin retreating further and further into the mists of time, she told Carly to lead the way.

Adopting a softer tone, not wanting to bully the young woman, and cognizant of unloading the stresses of her day on somebody else, she made small talk.

"You don't need to be scared of me. I'm not that bad, really."

"I just didn't want to trouble you unless we needed your help."

In truth, a part of her did want her to be scared. To be afraid of a stern reprimand. An old shard of her crueller self. It tickled the back of her mind. Calling to her. Demanding she assert her dominance over the puny warm-blood.

She simply smiled and ignored the impulse. Errant thoughts were okay as long as she didn't act on them. They could just live as pleasant fantasy...all in her head.

Carly's words interrupted her train of thought: "I...um...heard that you had a temper."

"Temper? Aww...you're kinda cute when you're trying to not piss off your boss."

Carly stammered, but Trace cut off any attempt at apology: "I was joking. It was a joke. Like I said, I'm not that

bad

. I'm sure the rumours have spread worse stories than what actually happened."

"Well, they are rumours after all," the human chuckled, warming to her presence. "Else they wouldn't be."

"And you've confirmed that you have been listening to and taking stock of rumours about your superior. What does that say about you?" Trace said without a hint of irony or levity.

"I..."

"PSYCHE!!!" Trace exclaimed, laughing. "You're too cute...I'm sorry, I couldn't resist fucking with you. Look: as long as my kids are doin' okay, you'll be okay. Just don't, like, lose them or anything."

"Uh, sure."

"How long have you been here anyway?"

"I started three weeks ago."

"That short, eh? You must've only finished orientation this week."

"Yeah."

"How's it feel workin' here -- must be new to you. People like me."

"It's not that different from my field of study. My college degree is...or, uh will eventually be...in anthropomorphic biology with a minor in transhuman sociology -- gene-splicing, human-hybrid transmogrification and reproduction, social development. Stuff like that."

"Well with my kids you're getting more than the full hands-on experience."

"They've already bitten me twice today," she said, with a hint of displeasure.

"Occupational hazard. Be glad it's their little chompers and not my fangs sinking into ya!"

Carly paused, unsure of what to say.

"God-dammit!" Trace muttered under-breath, "I don't mean it like that. Look -- I'm a nice gal once you get to know me..."

* * *

The nursery bustled with activity -- attendants and nurses flitting about, ensuring each child was given appropriate attention. The din of gurgling, giggling, and crying resounded throughout the building. It greeted Trace with a cacophonous roar of intermingling sounds as the doors swung open for her and Carly.

"Busy day huh?" she said to the human.

"No more than usual," came the neutral reply, accompanied by a polite smile.

Carly quickly walked past several play areas and pools, where human and non-human staff supervised kids being kids. Trace followed. The noise of the nursery Doppler-shifting as she passed each area, putting her in an absent-minded trance. It broke shortly thereafter, once Carly had led her to her brood.

Eleven rambunctious children. Eleven little angels pulling double-duty as eleven little devils.

Trace sighed as she took a headcount.

Devon. Sally. Marcie. Kayla. Rowan. Adam. Blake. Dani. Kyle. Summer. Bobby.

In no particular order she listed their names, scanning the room for each namesake. No 'Chris Jr.' among the names -- she'd thought about it but that felt like a reach! If her worst fears came to pass, and she never saw

him

again, they were too young to remember him at their age; it would make for awkward questions about who 'Chris Sr.' was in such a case.

No, at the time she'd named them with boyfriend

in absentia

. Before she'd forged a longer-time relationship with her human. Her head spun with thoughts that troubled. And a longing. A want...a need...to see him again.

"All present and accounted for," one of the nurses stated. Trace snapped out of her stupor and nodded in agreement. Her brood were grouped into threes and fours, playing together -- crawling and biting all over one another, much to the chagrin of the staff. She chuckled as she witnessed several humans receive bites of their own as the teething toddlers rolled about, oblivious to the chaos they were causing.

A fellow amphibian -- a slender female frog in an apron -- approached her. Trace noted a stain, most likely of vomit, on the article of clothing. A name-tag read 'Anna'.

"There you are," she said, her stride coming to a halt beside the salamander, "Carly said she'd find you sooner or later..."

"Guess I'm found," Trace replied, "what's up?"

"Nothing major," said Anna, looking over the children. "Bobby had an accident, as you can see. Devon likes to bite anything and everything, us included!"

"Ah! So that's who's leaving marks over the poor delicate human girls?"

Anna nodded. "His teeth are coming in nice and healthy at least. Deadly too."

Trace smirked.

She continued: "Marcie pinched Blake on the leg, who then cried almost the entire day. Needed someone to sing him a lullaby, several times, to finally put him to sleep."

"He's awake now." Trace gestured to the little salamander boy, crawling towards some alphabet blocks.

"Yeah I didn't say that lasted long. Marcie came back over and pinched him again! Who else...oh, Rowan wouldn't stop wriggling free from his careers and diving headfirst into the play-pool -- we got a shock thinking he'd bumped his head, but it was okay. He spent his time laying underwater, sometimes for half and hour before resurfacing. Clearly his gills are working!"