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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Paul puffed out his cheeks, hauling his back higher up over his shoulders. Damn, he perhaps shouldn't have spent so long at the workshop getting the dent out of his round shield, though his supplies were already weighing him down. As a rookie adventurer, he perhaps needed a little more time to gain muscle and bulk to himself, though Paul still wasn't sure that a heavyweight sword wielder and damage giver was something that he wanted to become. He had time though, after finishing his adventurer training, and was keen to get out in the field. There was plenty of treasure out there to be claimed, honour to be gained and challenges to bring new experiences.
It was mostly the treasure he was after though, if he was honest. No matter how many monsters he had to go through to get them, his hair dark brown and curling around his ears. He'd probably grow it longer, while he was out adventuring, but he wasn't sure still how he was going to get his tent out there or if it was even needed as well as a sleeping sack.
Ah well, he thought, making his way to his room in the inn to sling it down, grunting with the effort, though at least everything was packed ready, even if he was barely able to drag it with him. Maybe he'd take his cue on how much and what to bring with him from the rest of the group that he was going to meet up with in the morning. With that in mind, he paused, glancing in the broken mirror set atop the room's rickety dresser (the bed was in little better condition, even if the mattress was passable and had fresh, clean sheets), green eyes looking back at him.
He could do it. He could follow in his father's footsteps. He could do it, he could match up to his shadow, the shadow in which he had lived for too many years. It may have been his first time striking off on his own, but he was determined, clenching his jaws so that a hard, firm line set into it.
It would all come right, now that he was through his training. That was what Paul had to remember, always.
There was still plenty of time, however, left to kill that evening, and Paul traipsed back down the staircase, stable and wide even though it creaked, to the main body of the inn, where food and drink were served. In the corner was a piano with a man who looked like he had dragon blood in him, from the horns and the tail, the spines at the back of his head, tapping away on it, playing a light yet jaunty melody that somehow managed to add ambience to the bustle. Too many people from all walks of life crowded together, drinking and eating, making merry and making deals, though Paul was only there, that night, for food and drink.
Perhaps a little more drink, to ensure that he kept his nerve for the next day...
Of course, he would go through with it, though flagons of ale were not strong, not at that inn. It led him to buy more and more, spending his small amount of coin, though he hoped that he would acquire more swiftly on taking on adventures and missions. There were always tasks to be completed, those in towns and cities, of course, not wanting to venture out into the wilds, not daring when there were adventurers to do that dirty, wearing work for them.
Yet he bought more of the weaker ale, his food eaten and the cracked plate taken away, alone at his table. With a comfortable buzz on, the edges of his world softened and eased, as if everything had taken on a lighter edge. Sitting back in his chair to survey the room, people playing cards, others trading, some simply sitting, taking their leave of the day in any way that they pleased, he observed the room.
Paul was so caught up in people watching, however, that he didn't catch the light clip-clop of bare hooves on the floorboards, not amongst the clamour of human lives being led in the inn. Only when her shadow cast over him did he look up, his lower jaw slightly slack, though Paul clamped it back closed as swiftly as possible.
"Hola," the centaur said with a smile that revealed her white teeth, evenly lined, a cloak cast over her shoulders despite the summer warmth. "¿Cómo te llamas?"
He floundered, shaking his head, the heat of a blush flooding his cheeks, even if it was there from embarrassment and not anything else. At least, not yet.
"Er... Paul rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head again. "Sorry, I don't speak...Spanish?"
He took a guess, though he was not also well-versed in languages and that was something that he hoped to pick up a lot more of out on adventurers, particularly German and Spanish, as different as the languages were. When he'd thought of them, vaguely planning out what he wanted to learn, he had chosen what he'd thought would be the most useful to him on adventures. So much had come with a single focus in his life that, honestly, he had not had as much time as he could have wanted to look at anything else.
And that included love and romance and simply talking to members of the opposite sex, who he preferred, Paul swallowing hard. She was tall and gorgeous, that much was openly clear, her dark hair with summer hints of brown on the edges of her curls, though it was black at its root. Her lips curved into a pleasant smile, looking at him expectantly, though the centaur's tail was held loosely and comfortably over her strong, bay hindquarters. Her horse half had to be something like a light destrier, though not with too much muscle. Speed rather than using her equine body for force and attacking had to be her forte, he noted dimly, though the thought did not linger in his mind for long.
The centaur smiled, cloak rustling, though she was modestly dressed in a long, flowing blouse tightened at her human waist with a tied, cloth belt. It showed off her figure, Paul shifting back in his chair and shrugging, wondering if she was going to say something.
"Sorry, I didn't mean...to be rude..."
Her smile grew a little wider.
"Ah, of course. I only thought that such a young, handsome man such as yourself would have an arsenal of languages under his belt..."
She spoke smoothly, though her Spanish accent was still there, even if he could not tell which region of the world she was from, evidently Hispanic with richer, darker skin that drew his eye. She was spellbinding, though she seated herself close to him, her equine half "sitting" on the ground, though those there knew her well enough that they understood that any kind of staring or mockery would hardly go down well with her. There was something about her that screamed power, a woman comfortable in her own skin and position.
Or maybe that was just him applying things that were not really there to the situation... Paul didn't care. But he didn't know why she was there, sitting with him, either.
