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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Tentacle Entrapment
The eagle inhaled slowly and deeply, creeping through the temple as if he expected something terrifying to be around each and every corner. He had chosen his clothing carefully to make the long trek through the jungle to the temple that was set into the side of a cliff, a roaring waterfall pouring down one side that could have, very possibly, have been created by active hands and paws rather than the will of mother nature. But the tan and brown cloth had long ago been worn down around the elbows and knees, dirt and grime from the humid wilderness of a jungle lining the creases that had wound themselves around his body as if they had become a feature of his being over the time of his expedition.
In all honesty, it could have been true that there was something lurking in wait in the temple or it could not have: it entirely depended on what deity the temple belonged to. Some of them were cruel and vengeful and others were strangely empty and devoid of worship as if those who had frequented them had not been all that devoted to their cause. All of the temples, after such a time when the indigenous tribes could not tend to them as they wished, had fallen into a state of disrepair - except for the ones that they held close to their faith and, of course, their hearts. But Aquilan would not have wasted his time on things like that when there were far greater spoils to be had in a temple that promised gold that had been untouched for nigh on thousands of years.
He shivered in anticipation, the claws of his hands curling lightly around the corner of a crumbling wall that had, at some point, been etched and engraved with extravagant detailing. Squinting, he tried to make it out, brushing away the sweep of vines covering it, although it did not do all that much to actually show the scene that rose and fell in broken lumps across a landscape that should have surely have been loved and cherished. If he'd been another anthro entirely, he might have felt guilty about further defiling it in planning to remove it further of what made it so very precious to all those lives that had passed through it before.
The image... Some splashes of colour remained, or they could have just been water staining taken into the stone over the course of many, many years as the eagle leaned in closer, his curiosity getting the best of him, stalling his feet. What was that... A vine wrapped around a...body? No. He shook his head. He was trying to make sense out of squiggles and they really didn't mean anything. He had to keep going, or else he would find himself caught up in the twists and turns of his own mind and that was worse than any labyrinth or threat that could possibly reveal itself in the depths of the temple.
Down a hallway, stepping carefully over broken tiles that were so faded that they had all become pale and bleached, as if by the sun. Even the roof had caved in at some points and he paced carefully around those places, eyeing the broken stones as if they were liable to crash down on top of him at any moment. They may have been and it was only an extra little precaution that he took, exhaustion clawing at his mind as if some part of his psyche was, even then, striving to trip him up.
What he didn't do...was look down. And that was his undoing.
The floor went beneath him in a roar of shattered stone, tumbling down and down and down. He scrambled, wings outstretched along the lines of his arms, but there was nothing that he could do to take flight like his ancestors, a land-locked eagle that was prone to the wiles of gravity as much as any mammal that did not know how to soar. The moments before impact seemed to stretch out and out and out, suspending him in limbo, and yet it could not be drawn out forever as the floor rushed up to meet him, his body connecting, as if from a great distance, with something hard yet yielding, head whipping down as it travelled further and faster than his body.
It took him a moment - several long moments, in fact - to come to his senses again, ears ringing and a low groan rising from the back of his throat as if making the sound along would, at the very least, remind him that he is alive. Aquilan worked his beat, spitting out what he hoped was not blood, the floor beneath him shifting and writhing as he grabbed for it and found the very fabric that it was made of slipping and sliding out of his grasp.
No...wait. That didn't make sense. That didn't make sense at all. Why would a floor move? Yet it was not stone or rock beneath him, something else entirely curling up against his body as he was lifted up and turned over, as limp and soft as a rag doll that a youngster may have in either crib or cradle. But he was not a youngster and he was strong enough of mind to quell the pain in his body, wriggling and pushing himself back and up on his forearms, head hanging, with every last drop of energy he felt he had left of his body. And yet he could not quite be drained dry...
"What... Urgh..." He shook his head, rolling it from one side to the other as the pain in his neck shot up to the base of his head, twisted and sore and wrenched to one side. "What are these..."
