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.
*****
Cuckolded by Her Mother
Chapter Eleven
"You could help, you know."
Fyr scowled at her husband, who wasn't doing a very good job of being her husband, as he lounged on a bale of straw, hind paws kicked up and tail curling and uncurling gently. The very picture of feline relaxation, the cougar yawned and stretched, each one of his tentacles flexing as if they too had become stiff as he took a typical cat nap.
Early afternoon, Fyr had been hard at work in the barn for a few hours, sweat and grime marring her scales, and the crimson dragon wiped the back of her paw across her forehead, grimacing at the smear of dirt she added to her face. How very fetching indeed.
Ropes yawned again, straining his jaws extra wide as if for good measure, and eyed her up and down, paws back behind his head. She threw him a dirty look, the row of stalls to her back finally done up and finished as good as they could ever be. They'd do for the horses, but the cattle shed round the back of the barn was next on her list. And the hay loft needed looking at, cleaning out even if there was not much work to do in the name of "fixing up" there. The foundations of the house were going down, done by a professional company, but the interior, once the walls were up was all hers to get done and a daunting job indeed.
Fyr gulped and tucked her tail down to her backside, wings shuffling anxiously against her back. It was a big job. Each of the jobs were big jobs. But she had to come through with them. If not for her, for her family.
And the baby. Of course, for the soon to be hatchling, still warm and safe in her mother's belly.
"Well, I'm bored."
The cougar was hardly to be believed at times, but no other jibe could have chased away her worries with any more swiftness. Fyr put her paws on her hips, setting aside the broom.
"You've left all the heavy work to me! No wonder you're bored!"
Ropes smirked and raised an eyebrow, one tentacle raised alongside his head as if to punctuate his point like the targeted jab of a fingertip.
"But you look so good with your muscles working," he purred, eyes half-lidded. "I wouldn't want to disturb such a fine, strong dragoness now, would I?"
She wanted to be angry. There were so very many things that she should have been angry with his about. Sleeping with her mother by no means the least of them. The amount of work he'd left her to do on the ranch and even preparing their own house, inhabitable for the moment, for the youngster's arrival was another. Leaving her with the chores was one more.
And yet she still liked it. It gave her a little thrum of deeply rooted satisfaction each and every time she did something for the leaders in the relationship, caring for Ropes and Sasha not because they needed her to but because they could have her and it was her place to care for them. Both were stronger than her, that much was certain, and both had a hold over her that she couldn't explain if asked to depict their relationship in a clear, simple, straightforward manner. For there was nothing straightforward about it, but there was everything wonderful about it.
Maybe that was all she needed to know.
"Huff."
Fyr hunched her shoulders and pretended affront, bustling off to what would become the feed storage room. She rattled and clanged the large, metal bins about to make her point and indignation clear, though there was a smile on her smile and a hum behind every soft exhalation from her lips. The feed bins were a mess and she pursed her lips, imagining just how all of them would fit into the room. The cattle would require an automatic feeder, of course, for the sheer number they would surely end up housing. Everything in the designated feed room would have to be for the horses and all livestock other than the cattle, though she still didn't know the extent of that. Dry dog food could live in there too, as there was no sense in having that stinking up the house or even just the kitchen. Hay could be thrown down from the loft: that was an easy question to answer as she planned out her future life.
"Saying the word doesn't make you huffy, dear."
Leaning against the frame of the door, Ropes smirked and her heart flipped over. How did he still manage to do that to her after all their time together? And he still moved like a ghost, stalking her through the barn as if she was his prey.
The dragoness shivered. Oh, that wasn't a bad thought at all. She didn't mind being stalked by her sexy husband in the slightest. Only he had a more challenging chase of a pregnant dragoness to occupy him at that time, which she didn't mind either. It was exciting to watch too and, well, the force and brutality of their crudely lustful lovemaking didn't seem like it would leave her body in one piece either if he had taken more of an interest in her.
Fyr shook herself. Had he said something else? Ropes eyed her expectantly, dark lips curving up in a smile.
"Um... Yes?"
Ropes chuckled.
"Didn't catch a word of that, did you?"
It was so like their old dynamic that Fyr had to blink and take a second look at him, tongue-tied and as hopelessly in love as she'd ever been. A sunbeam slanted through the rafters from the skylight, dust motes swirling in the golden shaft. She smiled like a love-struck teenager.