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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Cuckolded by Her Mother
Chapter 8
"A mother and daughter...spa day?"
Fyr eyed the brochure speculatively, one eyebrow raised. The blue dragoness sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, her belly swelling with a dragonet, tipped her head to the side, almost as if she was trying to appease her own daughter. But the thought had to be dismissed from Fyr's head almost as soon as it appeared and it was only with great restraint that her crimson-scaled daughter held herself back from an unduly snappy comment. Although it may have been well-deserved, what with her mother taking a male who was certainly not her husband to bed with her, she sealed her lips closed and merely shook her head.
There was no chance, no way. She wasn't going to a spa just to play nice with her mom. Fyr's frown deepened. And her mother, knowing her as well as she did, clawed at the opportunity slipping away from her fingertips like water cupped between her paws.
"We haven't done anything with just the two of us in so long, Fyr," her mother murmured, her tone as wheedling and plaintive as she could possibly make it. "It'll be nice to have some time where it's just the two of us again."
If she'd been a younger dragoness, Fyr would have described the expression her mother made as 'pouting', faintly glossed aquamarine lips pursing in.
"Is that really what you think?" She questioned, a line across her forehead as her brow furrowed. "Or are you trying to get me out of the way so that you and Ropes can do something on your own?"
Sasha barely suppressed her smirk, but her wide and innocent eyes weren't fooling anyone.
"Why would you ever think I was trying to get you out of the way, so to speak, for a little while, honey?"
The dragoness' voice dripped with sugary sweetness as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, so great was her purity and abject innocence. Raising an eyebrow, Fyr pressed her fingers to her temples and allowed her to go on.
"I mean, it's not as if it's something I've ever done before, sweetheart," she murmured, running her paw down her daughter's arm, even as Fyr shivered beneath her touch. "It's just that sometimes a lady and her gentlefur need a little more private time..."
Her eyes glittered wickedly.
"You can always take care of us afterwards, you know," she whispered, Fyr's breath catching as her mother put her lips intimately close to her ear, stirring a need in the pit of her belly that she had not known was still there. "I would never deny you that... Well, not unless I really wanted to. I think something about that excites you too."
Fyr sucked in a breath and studiously averted her eyes, pulse jumping at the side of her throat. Her eyes slid away to the kitchen, the dishes piled in the sink that she hadn't gotten the chance to wash since, well... Her cheeks reddened with a blush and she fought down the need to press her paws over them, hiding what she would only draw more attention to through the action. Sasha blinked pleasantly to her, folding her paws across her lap as if she actually wanted Fyr's eyes pulled down and down and down -- but not to the wickedness that she could have played with her daughter, but the swell of her belly, the dragonet that grew within, waiting on its entrance to the world.
Fyr gulped. Although her mother was not all that far gone, it was still noticeable when her clothes fell in the right way, framing the change in her body that was coming long after her supposed prime years for bearing young. She could probably still get away with it in public or with those not in the know. And, as the father was Fyr's own husband, there was no one else in the know.
Well, not that she knew of.
Swallowing and rubbing the back of her paw across her lips, Fyr struggled for words, pushing her chain back over the linoleum with an obnoxious scrape that made Sasha grimace and frown, mouth opening in a quick reprimand that Fyr had been all too used to in her younger years.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly, cutting across Sasha just as the words began to leave the sanctity of her lips. "But I have things to do around here, so, if you want to go to the spa and flounce around, you'll simply have to go off and do it on your own."
"Fyr."
The crimson dragon froze, one paw on the tap. A soap sud bobbed in the half-full sink, water lapping gently at the curves of bowls like sunken ships rising from murky depths. She didn't need to turn to know there was a steely look in her mother's eye and, if the dragoness had had a shade less self-control, her fingers would have been rap-tap-tapping on the smooth wood of the kitchen table too.
Growling, Fyr ducked her head, shoulders rounding. Why couldn't she just get a break once in a while? Why was it so important that she go to the darned spa?
Or was it?
"Wouldn't you rather go with Ropes?" Fyr hid her sigh, facing away. "I still have the decorations to put up in the nursery. I really want to get that finished."
Her mother shook her head.
"Oh no, honey, we'll all do that together -- that's the best part!"
Fyr suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't as if she'd been the one left to do most of the nursery herself, after all. Okay, well, they had been a little more proactive in helping -- if that also included distracting her by desecrating every available surface in the nursery itself with their rather sordid, raunchy activities.
"So, it's settled then," her mother giggled, standing up with a degree more finesse than Fyr had to begin with. "We'll both be going to the spa today -- oh, how exciting!"
Clapping her paws together, Sasha near enough bounced on the balls of her hind paws, acting more like a hyper teenager than a dragoness with years and wisdom to her name. Despite herself, Fyr could not help but smile. There was something about her mother's simple joy that lightened her heart too, the knowledge of what was to come in future months and... Fyr tried not to let the thought through, but the years of what was to come with the dragonet growing and learning weighed on her like a lead bar balanced across her shoulders. The slightest redistribution of weight would send her off-balance and crashing down -- and who knew what that would bring!
Glancing back at her mother, whose stream of burbling conversation had not while she mused internally, conflict rising to the surface, Fyr frowned minutely, a headache throbbing in her skull. Sasha fluttered her fingers as she left, moving lips telling her daughter to be ready in a half hour, but Fyr barely heard her, sounds reaching her ears as if she was deep underwater, sinking and not swimming up to the surface.
Maybe a day at the spa would be something needed after all.
But that remained to be seen.
*
Lying on a massage table beside her mother, Fyr wriggled in the uncomfortable robe that was supposed to be fluffy and light and wished she was wearing her own clothes. For reasons that were beyond her, the masseuse had asked that they both strip down to, well, nothing at all and don the health club attire, branded and freshly washed. At any other time, perhaps it would have felt nice brushing over her scales, but something about wearing clothing that was not her own set the dragoness' skin crawling and it was all she could do to not claw the thing off entirely and expose herself to her own mother. Not that Sasha hadn't seen it all before, of course.
"Are you sure this is supposed to be relaxing?" She grumbled, turning her head from side to side to avoid the hole in the massage table, which she supposed was where she was expected to place her muzzle. "It just seems...weird."
A muffled giggle emanated from the other massage table, Sasha more comfortably situated with her blue wings tucked in close to her back, the holes in the back of the robe allowing her to extend or fold them in as she pleased. Fyr winced at the memory of just how long it had taken her to work out how to wriggle her wings through those holes rather than buttoning up a shirt around them. She huffed a sigh. Why did things have to be so complicated?
"Relax, Fyr, you might even enjoy yourself," Sasha chided her softly. "It's not something that you're supposed to be stressed about."
The dragoness ground her teeth together and growled, albeit quietly.
"Then why am I here?"
Lifting her head, Sasha shot her a look.
"To relax, sugar. Truly, you do work too hard."
"Only because of you."
She muttered the words too quietly for Sasha to hear, although her unrest was certainly noticed. It passed quietly, under the radar, and Fyr focused on the quiet music that the masseuse had left playing, the ebb and flow of the rising and falling tune making her eyelids heavier than they really should have been for...what was it? Mid-morning? So late already!
Anxiousness for all she had let to do in her day fluttered in her chest, a trapped bird beating its wings against the prison of its cage. The nursery! There was not much left to do there, but the ranch, the barn... Everything had to be bought for the little one, they needed to get everything in advance, make sure all was good and ready and as it should be. The dragonet would be treated as if it was her own with only the very best, regardless of the situation, and she simply couldn't slack off when she should have been working! Heavens -- she already only had the evenings in the week, when Sasha and Ropes weren't making use of her in various, divine ways, to get most of the stuff done and life was going on while she lay still, waiting and waiting on a massage that did not even seem to be coming!
