Dear reader, this is a work of erotic adventure fiction, containing furry, anthropomorphic animals with human intelligence having sex with our human hero. If this isn't for you, please read my other stories.
All characters, furry or otherwise, are over eighteen.
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The canine, Peter, watched Tom, the human asleep on the floor. Not exactly sure what to do, he breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the back door slam with the feline geneticist, Lucy returning to the cottage with a bunch of herbs in her hand.
"What happened?"
"He keeled over again, but this time, I think he's just asleep"
"Typical. Although, chewing on that seaweed pod would knock out an elephant. I'll liquidize these into a drink and it will help return his adrenalin to normal if we can get him to drink it."
She headed to the kitchen to return with a glass full of green liquid.
"See if you can wake him up Peter, but no need to slap him so hard this time."
Peter crouched down, pulling Tom to sit him up. Tom blinked and seemed to come around. His head was still floppy, looking as if he were a little drunk.
"Whaaaat?"
"Tom, you need to drink this... Please, Tom."
Lucy implored, as she offered him the glass.
Tom tried to focus his blinking eyes on the glass, and took it in his hands as Lucy guided it up to his lips.
"Ugh... Yuk. It stinks. What is it?"
"A few herbs that should neutralise the effects of the seaweed pod, but you need to drink it."
Tom looked up at Lucy, smiled and sipped the drink."
"Ugh... It's like drinking a salad."
"Well, think of it as penance. Now drink it all up."
Tom grimaced as he finished the glass. The three waited, expecting some homoeopathic fireworks, but after several minutes of raised eyebrows, Lucy broke the silence.
"How do you feel now... You okay?"
Tom nodded, handing Peter the empty glass with some leftover gunge in it. Tom had to sit upright, cross-legged as Peter left to fetch him a drink of water. Tom gulped it down, trying to wash the taste away.
"How do you feel?" Lucy asked.
"Not sure," Tom replied, getting up and walking up and down, a lot slower this time, feeling more down to earth now.
"You okay?" Peter asked, "One day, we'll have to sit down with a few more of those pods and get you to recap all those stories. We could make a mint, as they sound great."
Lucy rolled her eyes at the ever-present entrepreneurial spirit in Peter.
"Come on, we'll walk back with you if you're feeling up to it. Peter, bring those cameras."
The three of them walked out to head along the back of the row of cottages to Kitty's pub. Tom was a little wobbly at first, but by the time they reached the pub, he seemed to be back to normal. Peter and Lucy left him there to walk on and Tom headed for the kitchen for a cup of tea, with Lucy's warning not to chew any more seaweed pods ringing in his ears.
Tom entered the kitchen to find everyone else, sat down with mugs of tea except for Brenda, who was in full flight, controlling multiple pots and pans of boiling or frying food, ready for lunchtime. He poured himself a mug and Kitty warned them that because of the success of Tom encouraging guests to eat outside; they were expecting a delivery of tables and benches for the garden that afternoon.
Kitty and Sarah were the first to leave, warning that lunchtime guests were due any minute. Half hiding behind her mug of tea, Becky thanked Tom for his skulduggery that morning with Thomas. She didn't have to say anything more, but he knew that having heard Thomas confess his love for her had been a huge romantic step forward.
Sarah popped her head around the door, confirming guests were arriving. Tom joined Sarah as their afternoon flew by in a haze of serving lunches and welcoming more arrivals. Becky worked seamlessly between helping Brenda and clearing the hatch.
The diners were a mix bunch of couples and families, made up of a variety of cats, dogs and humans. Some were overnight guests, whilst others were midway through their coastal walks. The weather was prominent in discussions, with diners asking for a local viewpoint. One minute Tom was glancing up to see blue skies, then seeing dark grey clouds flying by, noting that the winds were picking up, and hinting at the storm to come.
At one diner's request, Tom glanced outside to confirm the weather, to see two stout British Bulldogs unload a flatbed wagon of timber garden tables and chairs. They both carried off the archetypical bulldog caricature, wearing waistcoats and bowler hats. Kitty appeared to ensure they positioned the tables as she wanted, to save anyone moving them around later.
As diners left, more arrived, keeping everyone busy. The weather was closing in, as retired captains confirmed there would be no fishing trips for tourists that afternoon or tomorrow. A few of the walking guests returned to settle in for an afternoon in front of the bar's open fire, with a pint.
Concern grew for the crab boats and fisherdogs, as the skies darkened, but news soon came that the first boats were returning. A gradual line of bedraggled fisherdogs made their way into the bar, eager for a pint and a warmup, adding to everyone's workload.
Whilst removing empty glasses from the bar areas, Kitty informed Tom that a parcel had arrived for him, and she'd put it up on his bed. Tom was keen to go look at the scientific equipment his fake list given to Balthazar had brought them, whilst also excited that their ruse had worked.
The afternoon melted into evening, with dinner guests now arriving. The poor little pub was now rammed with bodies, canines, felines and humans, all enjoying the warmth and atmosphere in the pub. Fisherdogs came in from working for a quick beer, and a chat, to return later in dryer casual clothes. Captains and the top dog, Captain Brown, also drifted in to settle at their table.
Whilst the atmosphere was busy and light-hearted, Tom noticed a few tense looks, mainly from the village's canine single bitches, all glancing around the single fisherdogs, causing him to wonder what he was missing.
Thomas, the fisherdog captain, returned to the bar, to a rapturous welcome, normally reserved for Captain Brown, confirming that there was something far more to this evening than usual. One of his crew accompanied him, carrying an old-fashioned squeeze box accordion. Both were promptly toasted and given drinks to quaff.
