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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The Bliss Massage
"Good morning!"
The robin behind the counter of the tastefully set-aside and decorated massage parlour, which was attached to a leisure and health club that always seemed to be full to the brim and, quite literally, swimming with other anthros, chirped happily. Her red breast quivered as she flapped to quickly serve him, although her short stature was usually set below the height of her clientele, looking from left to right expectantly as the tinkle of the bell at the door had, quite rightly so, alerted her to the presence of a customer.
It was almost comical how she searched for him, the client who was about to have a very strange day indeed in the massage parlour that she had only worked the front desk at for a short amount of time but still wanted to do a good job at, of course. Chirping softly to herself, she scratched the back of her head and wondered if her eyes and perhaps her ears too were deceiving her. Surely she should have seen who had come in by now - had the fountain, maybe, swallowed them up in a burble of pure, crystalline water?
Alas, being seen was not always so simple a matter for the little dragon walking on all fours, rather sheepishly, up to the front desk. The extravagant lines of faux plants crossed his line of sight as he tucked his chin to the side and away as if there was something about them that he could not quite spare the time to look at, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth anxiously all the while. Just why had he let them convince him to try out the massage place after all? It was a silly idea... A very silly one indeed. He didn't belong there, not with all the svelte and lithe ladies strutting around, so fresh and perfectly groomed as they enjoyed themselves and the luxuries that either came with age or wealth (or both) that even his dark green scales seemed out of place. The brown that splashed through his scales too would have been useful camouflage in the face of his ancestors of times long gone by but didn't really set him apart even though they were a discerning feature. With a delicate face and dished cheek, his small horns tucked back from his skull in a subtle curl, small spines that were chunkier at the base where they connected lining the full length of his spine right down to the tip of his tail, the 'bony' features of his body an off-white that was often tarred a little darker, sadly, with the grime of the city. That was why he dressed, although it was not necessary for ferals to wear clothes, just helping to keep his scales a little cleaner in the feral approximation of a shirt and comfortable, loose trousers. That was what one was supposed to wear going for a massage, right?
The problem with his stature, of course, was the fact that he was barely the size of a Great Dane dog - a feral creature quite lacking in intelligence that he had been compared to far too many times for comfort. It was difficult enough to be taken seriously just walking down the street, although a flash of his teeth when he was in a particularly foul mood (that, unfortunately, rarely happened) was usually enough to ward someone off trying to pick him up, even if he really was too large to be scooped up into anyone's arms; it did not stop them from trying. Being a feral dragon, some even assumed a lack of basic intelligence and nearly fell flat on their backsides in shock when he proved himself to be quite elaborate in his speech and certainly not restricted at all, even speaking better than most anthros even though he was more softly spoken and on the quieter side.
Everything he encountered on a daily basis shaped the way he held himself and he had, slowly but surely, become a dragon who kept himself to himself most of the time, going out with friends and ensuring that he would not, yet again, face the humiliation of being stumbled over. He did avoid parks, however, if he at all fancied going out on his own, for the simple fact that there were too many dogs there. The green dragon winced and tried to push down his grumble, putting on his best smile up at the, ever so slightly bemused, robin. Why, after the number of times he had been called 'cute' and said that he was just like someone's pet dog, he really rather much thought himself a cat person at the tail end of that - and quite fairly too!
"Hi," he said slowly, standing up onto his back legs and taking his weight back on his haunches for balance. "I have a massage booked for..." He glanced at the lock, the ticking hand obnoxiously loud. "What is it... Four-fifteen?"
She recovered her professional composure swiftly and smiled at him - well, as much as any avian was, of course, capable of smiling with a fixed, set beak. Her eyes brightened and softened, however, and he could not help but relax just a little, set ever so slightly more at ease by her professional air and demeanour. She knew what she was doing and he didn't have to worry about anything at all now that he had found the place, set a little off the beaten track. His wings would be well enough glad of a massage, he was sure, after all the flying he'd had to do to get to the exclusive place!
"What name is it, sir?" She asked politely, tracing her feathered fingertip, for her wings spanned the length of her arms, down a sheet of paper. "I have several gentlefurs booked in this afternoon. We're getting quite popular!"
She giggled as if she was privy to some joke that he was not but the meaning of that flew right over the small drake's head as he tilted his head from side to side contemplatively, his gaze sliding off to the right as he thought carefully.
"Oh, it's probably under Caddison," he said, shaking his head as his lips pressed together. "I prefer Caddy though. Can I put that name down next time?"