Cuckolded By Her Mother Ch 10

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 10

Fyr woke slowly, the cushion on the sofa digging uncomfortably into the back of her neck. Light slanted across her muzzle and she groaned, rolling away from it as if she could ward off the morning. But the day had to come, whether she wanted it to or not.

Sleep was not to be had for a busy dragoness, after all.

Eyes half-closed, she grumbled as she got up, stretching her arms above her head as the woven blanket fell from her body, revealing her nudity. But she barely took note of it as she traipsed upstairs to the bathroom, entering the family one and not the en-suite that used to be attached to her bedroom.

The dragoness winced. Well, it was what used to be her bathroom. She supposed it was for Ropes and her mother now. Her chest warmed. But they would make better use of it than her, she was sure. She'd have to put a waterfall shower head in there for them at some point, just to make it all the more pleasant. They could take something like that along with them when they moved to the ranch, since the ranch needed the house building first before they could even contemplate settling there permanently.

She didn't see either her husband or her mother as she went about her morning routine and didn't hear from them either until a text from Sasha popped up on her phone at midday. The beep startled her out of a daze at her desk, fumbling in her bag for her phone while the lioness over the cubicle wall in the open-plan office scowled and rolled her eyes. Fyr resisted the urge to shoot a snarky comment her way, tail twitching and curling like that of an annoyed feline. She'd picked up more than one habit from her husband during the time they'd been together, it had to be said.

Let her grumble. The dragoness rubbed her forearm and opened the text message.

Happy Valentine's Day, sugar.

Fyr's eyes snapped to the calendar. The date had snuck up on her again, although it had never been one of particular note to her; Ropes hated Valentine's Day, preferring to express his lust in rather a more carnal fashion than sappy sweet love and romance. Cute teddies and the like were not the sort of thing Fyr would have chosen to adorn the bedroom cabinets with either, even if she wouldn't have said no to a touch more romance if so given the opportunity to woo and be wooed.

"Ahem."

Fyr ignored her, sitting back in her computer chair, hind paws swinging lightly from side to side, freed from her heels. What did it mean that she'd received a Valentine's Day text from her mother and not her husband? Was that what she was supposed to expect now? The chair squeaked and she rested her chin on her paw, murmuring softly to herself as she tried to work it through in her head.

"I'm trying to work over here, you know."

The lioness glared at her. Susan, was it? Fyr raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you should do the same. You seem to have so much free time over there." She looked pointedly at the phone in the dragon's paw, whiskers quivering triumphantly. "Some of us are actually working for our pay slips here."

The feline could not have put more frost into her words if she'd tried. In another time, Fyr would have snarled to herself about the exchange and ranted at Ropes, cursing her inability to make a stand against another colleague who thought they could dictate what the quiet, focused dragoness did with her work on a daily basis. She'd always been quiet, afraid to speak up when she was given work that wasn't hers to do, and the others in the office

She was sure she'd become a bit of a joke.

Fyr took a breath. Time for that to change.

"I have been working, although it is strange for you to insinuate otherwise. The report you needed from me, by the way, is in your inbox."

Susan's jaw dropped and she growled in the back of her throat as Fyr stood. The dragoness smiled prettily, though its warmth didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Susan, I am taking my break now. Would you mind listening out for my phone? I shan't be long."

The lioness' eyes widened further still, as if threatening to pop out of her head, and her tail thumped against the leg of her desk.

"We don't get breaks here!" She snapped. "Sit down or I'll tell Johanna!"

Fyr had to force down the urge to roll her eyes. That wasn't the impression she wanted to give. But did the lioness really think she could control her so easily? Was that really how she'd behaved for all her time in the office?

Well, that wasn't how it was going to be anymore.

As if watching a stronger, more confident version of herself through a glass screen, Fyr smiled and tapped the side of her muzzle.

"It's in the contract - an unpaid break of fifteen minutes, to be taken before noon, Monday to Friday. I'm happy to show you, when I get back, and I'm sure our supervisor will be pleased to know that state working regulations regarding breaks are being maintained in the office too."

"But I'll tell Johanna!"

The lioness called after her, but Fyr was already retreating, a tune on her lips and a spring in her step. The dragoness' tail swung lightly with every step, a band that she had not acknowledged loosening from around her chest.

"That's nice. Also, we're not hatchlings or cubs here, Susan."

What repercussion could come from simply stating the facts? She knew others took their breaks and it was only her that felt as if she had to be in her desk at all times. She supposed furs did like to band together and bully, where they could. It was, unfortunately, the way of it.

No, nothing bad would come from doing what she should have done a long, long time ago. The dragoness smiled. The supervisor - the new vixen, at least - wasn't one she had anything to worry about with. No, the ball was well and truly in Fyr's court. And it was time to play the game she'd been missing out on for far too long.

Perching on the edge of a chair in the break room, she unwrapped a blueberry muffin, licking her lips all the while. Yes, it was definitely time for a treat. She didn't get many treats those days. Only then did she open the text again, fingers tapping a reply that suited her mood.

Happy Valentine's to you too, mom! Would you two like to go out to dinner tonight? It'll be my treat.

xxx

She smiled and sat back, thoughtfully chewing on her treat. There, that was the right thing to do. She had to treat her family right, didn't she? And Valentine's Day was for everyone, regardless of how their relationships worked, whether they were conventional or something a little more...alluring. Fyr shivered.

The phone beeped and she grabbed for it, wings trying to flare out.

Darling, we'll be taking you out and it'll be our treat. Nothing less for my daughter!

Well! The tables had turned indeed! Fyr grinned and wagged her tail. What could any polite dragoness do but accept such a kind offer? She had been working very, very hard lately, after all. Tossing a piece of muffin, laden with plump blueberries, up in the air, she caught it in her mouth with a pleased celebratory snap of her jaws.

Perhaps things were looking up after all!

*

"Sugar, you look lovely tonight."

Nervously, Fyr smiled, a twitchy, awkward kind of smile, and smoothed down her dress. Black with red roses delicately patterned over the fabric, the dress clung to her without showing off unduly, ideal for an evening meal even if Fyr had toyed with the idea of wearing the blue one that showed off rather more cleavage. In the back of her mind, she hadn't wanted to upstage her mother and had instead gone for the dress that hugged her figure better, putting her in the shadow, but a very good, tasteful shadow nonetheless.

"You think so? I haven't worn anything like this in..."

She trailed off with a half-shrug, laughing quietly at herself. Dresses weren't usual attire when she had so much to do, although it wasn't as if she objected to wearing them. On the contrary, she shook her hips just a little more to make the light skirt waft around her legs, feeling more intrinsically feminine than she had in a very long time.

Sasha cast her a distracted look, her own smile fleeting.

"Yes, I know."

Fyr took a step back, wrapping her arms around her torso. Oh, how silly she was, pestering her mother to let her know how she looked in her dress like a hatchling out to dinner with family! Or worse, a teenager primping and preening before the mirror for a drake that was never going to notice her anyway. Blushing, the dragoness looked down at her shoes. They were very nice shoes too, complete with diamante straps and with heels that had her practically walking on her toes. She hoped she wouldn't be walking very far in them that night.

Fixing her earrings in the mirror, Sasha clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyelashes curled and thick with tastefully applied mascara. Fyr shivered. Her mother could have been a seductress in her own right, but the slinky, turquoise number she'd donned both hid her belly bump and set off the deep hue of her scales, shimmering like the depths of the ocean.

"It's a good thing we booked early, isn't it, dear? It's going to be packed tonight, but the Italian place that Dina recommended to me is apparently divine, it's not worth missing."

Fyr had opened her mouth to reply when Ropes cut across her; she hadn't even known the cougar was there.

"Undoubtedly," he said smoothly, brushing past Fyr to wind a familiar arm around Sasha's waist. "And it'll be all the better for your company."

Nuzzling into the dragoness' neck, Ropes purred, his lover giggling. Politely, Fyr folded her paws in front of her stomach, waiting on them. She was happy enough that they were including her in their evening without pushing for more attention and the kiss they shared was so full of love that she could not help but smile as her husband took her mother's paw.

It's as if they were meant to be together.

And, if so, she was happy that they were happy - truly. As long as they allowed her to stay around to share in that happiness too.

Clicking over the stone path outside, a tiny garden for a terraced house that she could not wait to abandon, she followed them out to Ropes' car - something he'd gotten through work that may not have been his usual choice of wheels, but could not have suited his new lifestyle more appropriately. A Jaguar - Fyr didn't know the model, being more of a truck-dragon herself - with sleek lines beckoned them in and Ropes dropped lightly into the driver's seat, letting his tentacles hang over the headrest.

For a moment, Fyr wished she was the one sitting in the passenger side, but obediently slipped in the back and took her mother's handbag too, setting both in her lap for the ride.

And the restaurant was every bit as beautiful as her mother's friend had promised, decorated with real vines that lent an earthy, natural air to the room without being gaudy. The tables were a rich wood that had to have been imported and Fyr blushed as she was seated by her husband, the cougar drawing the chair back for her in a most gentlemanly fashion. Of course, he seated Sasha first, the dragoness trailing her paw across the front of his smart black trousers as she settled herself in.

"This is a really nice place," Fyr murmured, eyes downcast. "I'm really thankful the two of you brought me here."

Her words sounded false and wooden, although she did really mean it. The restaurant was a very nice place, just the kind of place that she would have wanted to go out to, if she'd been alone with Ropes. Being a third wheel as Sasha rested her elbows on the table and batted her eyelashes at Ropes, however, was not what she'd originally had in mind.

It was a different kind of pleasure altogether.

When the waiter came to take their drinks order, Ropes ordered for her, tucking the beverage menu back into its stand with a pleasant smile. He'd donned contact lenses to go out and tucked his tentacles down inside his shirt, so, to any casual onlooker, he could have passed for a typical American fur out for dinner with his wife and her mother.

Fyr shivered. That was if others knew Sasha was her mother. She cast her eyes about suspiciously, sipping from the Peroni bottle clasped in her paw as if someone or something was about to catch her unawares. What would it look like, from the outside? But it was a question that she already knew the answer to, loins tightening as she sat back and tried to paste a blank yet politely friendly expression on her muzzle.

"Ropes, darling..." Sasha purred, taking his paw. "You really do choose the best places to take me."

Ropes raised an eyebrow.

"My dear, was it not yourself that suggested this place? I was merely the one who made the booking."

"As I said," she murmured, eyes dancing, "you have excellent taste. In both food and dragonesses."

Fyr shivered. It was as if she wasn't even there. And, as far as personal tastes went, it seemed that he no longer had any taste for her.

But why did that have to go and make her feel so damned good? A bad kind of a good or a good kind of bad, but still - good. It was good. Fyr cursed herself. The word was starting to get on her nerves just a little bit.

They conversed without her. She didn't need to be there and yet she was thankful that she still was, a part of their lives, but not quite in the thick of it, where the crux of their beings lay. Ropes and Sasha sipped at their wine as they went over the menu, deliberating between choices while Fyr mused over her own, trying to keep her focus from wavering.

Sasha's tail moved beneath the table, brushing Fyr's leg. The dragoness started, about to ask what she was doing, and the answer immediately became obvious as the cougar began purring, whiskers twitching as something very intimate took place in the middle of a pleasantly full restaurant.

Although she couldn't see what was happening beneath the table - well, not unless she wanted to draw attention to them by poking her head under the long, flowing tablecloth - the little smirk on Sasha's face and how Ropes' whiskers twitched. She could imagine her mother's tail pressing into his crotch, trailing down his leg just to tease before tickling its tantalising way back up again.

It was Fyr who had to suppress a moan as Sasha threw her a knowing look, the suggestion of a smile pulling at her lips.

"Looks like someone would have preferred dinner at home tonight..." She growled softly, claws digging into the table as if readying herself - for what, however, Fyr could not know. "A little more privacy goes a long way, doesn't it, dear?"

Caught by her charms, Ropes nodded helplessly, though happily, tentacles twitching and squirming beneath his shirt; he leaned back in his seat hastily to keep them in check. It didn't matter too much if they were on show, but it tended to make others uncomfortable if they did not know what they were beforehand, so he did his best to hide them, except when another kind of mood took him.

Fyr hid a grin of her own. When that mood was out to play, all bets were off.

But Sasha didn't let up on the cougar, making him lean harder and harder back into his chair in a futile effort to keep his tentacles in check. Fyr shuddered, half-closing her eyes as if her mother's tail was caressing her thigh and pressing up oh so wonderfully between her legs. Oh, how she craved that attention. She could almost feel Ropes' hot breath washing over her scales, the little rapid pant making his eyelids flutter over the contacts that his demonic eyes would dissolve in a matter of hours. Fyr took a deep breath, steadying herself - but for what, she did not know herself.

"Are you ready to place your orders now, or would you like a few moments more with the menu?"

Fyr jumped, guilty even though she hadn't been doing anything. The waiter, a tall, slender snake with a flickering tongue, tipped his head curiously to the side, eyes still glazed with a reptilian hue despite his anthropomorphism. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Sasha leaning back in her chair, eyes kindly innocent to anyone not in the know. Her daughter exhaled slowly.

"Yes, I daresay we are."

She had to commend her husband; the cougar was as smooth as silk. Tapping a finger on the menu as if he'd known what he wanted all along, he smiled up at the serpent waiter, all cool, suave and sophisticated.

It was no wonder she'd fallen in love with him.

"Yes, I'll have the seafood risotto, a side of garlic bread fingers to share for the table too, please."

Fyr smiled. Seafood. So typical of a feline. But the waiter's attention was already slithering on, ever efficient as he jotted down their order.

"An excellent choice - that is one of my personal favourites. And what for your lovely wife?"

The words could have been innocuous, if he had been addressing Fyr. As it was, his gaze slid as if in slow motion to the blue dragoness sitting across the table from the cougar, his smile full of genuine warmth.

Fyr choked on her own saliva, twisting and flaring out her wings as Sasha went to answer the serpent as if being Ropes' wife was the most normal, everyday thing she could have possibly thought of. Perhaps, for her, it was. The dragoness shot her a look out of the corner of her eye and Fyr yanked her wings back in to her back from where they had flared out in shock.

Other tables were staring, their eyes wide and curious to see just what her choking and coughing fit was all about. But Fyr didn't see them, didn't hear their tittering giggles, intent only in the dull roar in her ears, the waiter reaching out to her, asking if she was alright.

They'd correct him. Of course, they would, it went without saying. Fyr pounded her own chest, eyes wide and bulging as her tail swung back and curled around the leg of the chair.

"The Filetto di Manzo alla Rossini for me, please. And my husband and I would like a starter plate, the special platter," Sasha said, her voice ringing clearly through the cacophony in Fyr's head, drums banging and cymbals clanging. "Nothing to start for our daughter though. She had a big lunch."

As Fyr blushed heavily - she had not eaten that much, just who did her mother think she was to monitor what she was eating? - Ropes nodded and laughed politely, easing over the situation with shocking finesse.

"Yes, but she has to order too, dear."

"Pizza," Fyr said quickly, rushing the words from her lips as if she feared that she wasn't going to allowed to order at all. "I'll have the pizza. With Parma ham, if you have it too, and olives. Cheese and tomato."

She didn't get all the words she needed out, or in any sort of the right order, but the waiter nodded, clearly getting the gist of it.

"I shall be back with your bread for the table and your starter, if you would please wait but a moment."

As he rushed off in the characteristic speed-walk of wait staff, Fyr's frazzled mind clung to the one bit of information that she could get out, avoiding the main topic of contention.

"I didn't have a big lunch," she said in a voice that seemed terribly small to be passing her own lips. "I did have a muffin earlier though."

Sasha smirked and tapped the side of her muzzle, toes curling and uncurling within her tasteful, strappy evening shoes.

"Oh, you can have some bread and olives, if you like, sweetheart," she said smoothly. "I only thought you may have wanted to leave some room for dessert."

She cast Ropes a smouldering look, looking up at him from heavily mascara-laded lashes. The dragoness blew a smoke ring just barely in the shape of a heart. Ropes rumbled his appreciation, fingers squeezing briefly around her paw as the dragoness lavished her attention on him.