The Spirit

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 Spirit

"Siiiilver..."

The whisper hissed through the hunting cabin and the dragon snarled, backed up against the wall, the storm cracking and rolling with thunder and lightning just beyond the windows. But a storm should not have made a dragon like him so fearful, standing on two legs with his crest of black hair dampened down from legging it to his hire car in the pouring down rain, every fibre of his being screaming at him to run, to flee, while all he found was that he was completely and utterly rooted in place.

"What are you?" He hissed back in turn, eyes blazing, though fear made them redder than ever. "What do you want?"

"Siiiilver..."

Again, the voice came, winding its way unseen through the pots and pans, the supper that he had planned to enjoy after coming back from his hunt but, well, the storm had put an end to that idea before it even began. And, now, there was something in the cabin with him, lights off and the world around him thrown into darkness, although he could still see, even if it was not completely clear to him. He'd barely even unpacked, his duffel bag lying on the single bed in the corner, blankets neatly tucked in for he had not even had the chance as yet to catch up on his sleep as night crawled in, as irrevocably as ever.

"Siiiilver..."

"Answer me."

He tipped his muzzle up, proving himself to be stronger and more powerful than he actually was, legs braced and fists balled up, ready to fight. But just what did Silver think that he was ever going to be at all able to fight against, tipped forward as if to pounce, the unearthly presence slinking in and in and in...

And then he felt it, a cooling touch creeping down his bare chest as much as he shrank back and away from it, eyes wide and wild. His tail thrashed but there was no fighting it as that strange presence trickled down his scales, teasing and flirting, seeming to explore his body like a pair of paws would. But there was something strange about the sensation too even as it crept down to the waistline of his jeans, seeming to toy with his belt, the fluttering of feathers brushing his stomach as the shape of something, or even someone, slowly discerned itself before his very eyes.

Silver could not have anticipated it but that did not stop the shimmering form of an owl, glittering with white and blue as if she had no substance at all, from taking form with him, swirling into existence like a breath of air embodied. Her edges shimmered but she was clearly a barn owl even though he noticed too that she was not only a she, despite the fluff of feathers covering the rise of her breasts. He could not have said why, not even as he took an uncertain step back, but her maleness too jutted out from her crotch, testes held internally while her slender, pink length ached for something that he did not think that he could give.

What was happening? His head swam and he tilted it, knocking into the wall and a painting that had already been hanging askew. Breath raked through his lungs with icy daggers of claws and he shook himself, knowing that he had to come to his senses, had to think, had to breathe, even if he could not explain what or who was standing right there before him, floating and whispering, her clawed feet not even touching the floor.

"I came for you," the owl-thing whispered, paws clutched to her chest, eyes shimmering without any pupils. "You called me, Silver... Don't you remember."

The dragon gulped. She raised her arms, layered with feathers that would make up her wings, but he did not step into them, even though the effect and effort of the gesture was quite clear. She made it sure what she wanted from him and yet he backed away, holding up his paws, clutching at straws, head pounding and searching for the only sensible answer that he could give her in a moment where nothing, nothing at all, made any kind of sense.

"I don't even know who you are..."

And that should have been reason enough for the drake to push her away, even if she did not have a body that he could see or feel in any normal way. It should have been enough to tell her, the ghost or owl or whatever she truly was, that he was not the one that she was looking for, that he couldn't give her that what was what she wanted.

But...the owl persisted. Her wings and hands trailed down his front, backing him up to that little rickety bed under the cover of darkness, desperate for something that not even he thought he could provide her with. He didn't know her name and she pressed herself up against him, seeming to have a body and not at the same time -- a truly confusing sensation in itself! But his willpower was apt to wane and something about her pulled at his heartstrings, wanting to take her into his arms, hold her close, play the part of something or someone that, at some point, she must have lost.

Where had that thought come from? She was on him, straddling his hips, pulling at his belt, his jeans sliding down -- how did she move so quickly? Her beak pressed to his lips and he caught himself kissing her back, a low, tiny moan breaking from his lips as he tried to run his paws down her back and yet only found the lightest sensation of feathers, not holding the weight of his physical touch even then. But she channelled her physical form, what she could hold and tease, into her wings, curling the hand-like tips of them around his shaft, pumping and stroking, teasing him to full hardness as she had known, in her former life, that she was able to bring males to over and over again. There was something to fall back on there, at least, and Silver groaned, shaking his head, though getting to grips with what was happening no longer seemed like it was any kind of a possibility at all.

No... Silver sank back, something in him pulling for her even as she stroked and caressed his cock, those feather-light touches something entirely new to him. It was as if he simply was not capable of resisting her as he grunted and rocked his hips, moaning lightly, her beak brushing his lips, his cheek, his muzzle, down the line of his jaw. It was one of the only other parts of her that he could actually feel, even though his paws had nowhere to go as they slipped through the ether of her as if there was no substance to her being at all.

Here or not... There was a question there that had to be answered but he nosed into her breasts, the emotion of her pouring over her, a lover lost, something slipping away. Memories and snatches of her past, whoever she was, brushed his mind, seeing a fox walking away, her heart, his heart, sinking down and down and down. The image of the very cabin that he was in, but in summer. Her cock pressed up against his, the hermaphrodite mourning what was lost, reliving what should have been hers all that time ago, the time to act then passed but the time to be with Silver luxuriously there for her, however she pleased.

Heaving for breath, he could not have honestly said why he did what he did in hindsight, humping and grinding up against her as if the owl spirit was his last breath to live. He needed her and, somehow, she needed him, needed something for him as Silver moaned into the brush of her feathers, so very softly, gently so. The dragon ground and humped, grinding his cock along the length of hers, and she responded keenly in kind, leaning into his embrace even as his need ramped up tenaciously, seeking more.

It happened so quickly that he was barely aware of it. One moment her cock was drooling pre-cum over his, the image of a fox that had never before been in his life flashing through the forefront of his mind, and the next her hips were lifted, the dragon's cock pushing into her. The sensation of her fluttered and shifted around him as if she could not keep her entire passage whole for the act but, oh, how she tried, holding desperately onto the last remnants of her earthly essence. She wanted him, to be with him, but not with him, emotion tangled up in desperation to complete what she had never been able to complete when she'd been alive.

But Silver was there and he could kiss her, lips teasing through her essence as she fluttered and wavered against him, tail-feathers fanning out softly, lifting, as she rose and fell on his cock. As light as a feather -- lighter still with nothing to root her in reality -- the owl keened softly, screeching as her lust rose to a clamouring crescendo, craving all that the dragon had to offer her. And Silver was right there to thrust up into her, heaving and panting, snarling as he rammed her full, eager to feel everything even if the light of day would come to bring more questions still that it answered.

"Oh... Ohhh... Silver!"

That was the last cry she ever made on earth, hips working and grinding as she slammed down on him, her passage twitching in the fluttering dissipation of her as she climaxed, shrieking like a barn owl in the midst of the hunt, diving on unsuspecting prey. One image after another, blurred at the edges, flooded Silver's mind and the rush of longing accompanying them sent him too into desperate throes of climaxing, getting off too quickly but, alas, time was far too short to hold back when the owl was already slipping through his fingertips.

"Thank you..."

Her whisper trailed off as his cock spurted into thin air, not actually seeding her, a meadow before him, flickering back to the cabin, shifting between two realities, both as real as the other. The owl slipped away, as much as he tried to grab for her, fingers sliding through nothing but air, feathers fluttering apart as if she had never truly held nay body for herself. Whereas she eased into the afterlife, at rest, his cock throbbed and pulsed, seeding his own stomach and marking his scales as he pumped and jerked, a paw on his cock as his wide, wild eyes sought to see something -- anything -- in the softening absence of her.

Insanity... Could that come on so quickly? Had he imagined it all -- been dreaming? There were no answers that would satisfy him, not then and not ever, and Silver sank down into the bed, rolling over as his own cum dried on his scales, troubled yet exhausted. Rest, yes, rest was to be had; down and down and down he teased, pulled by the owl and the memory of her, the half-spoken unfinished business that had been needed to soothe her on into the peaceful existence, or not, as one wanted to look at it, of the next life and world that he would not see for many, many years.

He'd wake and wonder but that was all he could do, never truly knowing if it had taken place or not, her form so fleeting that it made more sense to consider it a strange sort of lucid dream. Yet his subconscious would know the truth of it, regardless of what Silver liked to think, and the owl still floated through his dreams, her pale eyes, lacking in pupils, searching him out with passion in her heart and lightness in her soul.

Thank you.

He would never at all be able to say quite what had transpired that night but one thing that Silver did know was that that one experience with the sweet owl would stay with him forever, lingering in the dream of her, a single feather left in the pocket of his duffel bag.

Even if her spirit had, finally, been laid to rest.