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 Twelve
"I'm really not sure why this is necessary..."
Sasha folded her arms and stared resolutely out the window of Fyr's rattling, old truck, her lips pursed and the tip of her tail curling and uncurling as if she could not bear to keep it still. The dragoness sighed and tried to focus on the road that unwound itself beneath their wheels as they made their way into town. The landscape was more barren than usual, but the flush of spring would soon be with them, and she supposed that they could only be grateful that it had not been a hard winter. On the contrary - they'd barely even felt it with all the heat going on in the comfort of their own home.
There was, however, still much work to be done on the barn and ranch house before they could even think about moving in, but the foundations were being set down from their savings, that time of scrimping and saving and grinding through jobs neither of them enjoyed paying off dividends. Sometimes the best things in life were worth a little trouble. Fyr only hoped that the same was true for the new relationship she'd found with her husband and her mother.
Her mother was not best pleased with her daughter 'forcing' her to see the doctor. Her stomach swelled with her ongoing pregnancy, easily at the four-month mark and progressing rapidly. She rested her paw on her stomach as they drove, unaware that Fyr kept stealing glances at it, eyes sliding between the baby bump and her own, comparatively smooth belly.
Would she ever have a hatchling of her own, or was she destined to be the nanny's cuckold too? Fyr wrinkled her nose, snout crinkling. Did that even work or make sense? Not much made good sense to her anymore.
She still had her common sense though and, when Sasha had shown her the holes appearing in her sides, scales folding in as if the very structure of her body was collapsing, she'd known just what to do. Like all the times her mother had dragged her kicking and squealing to the doctor because she'd hurt herself doing something ridiculous or dangerous or both, it was time for her to make sure that Sasha, and the baby, got the attention they needed.
Before it was too late.
Her hind paw inched down on the gas pedal, the dragoness gnawing at her lip. Silence stretched out between them, Sasha's grumbles and complaints going unanswered as she stewed. Although Fyr was well aware that she too knew it was for the best as there was nothing on heaven or earth that would have forced her mother into the truck if she had not too thought it to be, ultimately, the right decision.
Fyr sent a prayer up to the lord, if he happened to be listening at that given moment, that everything would go well. She'd picked out the town clinic for her mother, thinking that the drive would be easier (than hauling tail all the way into the big city) on a dragoness carrying a hatchling, though they still could not say conclusively whether it was an egg or not. That was something that the doctor would be better able to tell and Fyr herself tingled with anticipation of the news.
It consumed her every waking moment, tiny paws pattering through her dreams as she tossed and turned on the sofa of a night. Would it be a male or a female? What could she teach them? Oh, how fun it would be to watch them grow up! It didn't matter that the hatchling would not be hers, only that it was one that was of her family. Neither could she have said quite when her mind settled to the possibility - it was, after all, far too late to terminate the pregnancy with any sense of compassion or good faith - but a kind of peace over that nuance of the situation, at least, had wrapped itself over her mind. Perhaps it was because she could focus whole-heartedly on preparations for the youngster to arrive, going from task to task with comforting regularity. Or perhaps it was the lack of power and control that made everything all that simpler to accept.
Sasha sulked into the corner of the waiting room, glaring at everyone and anyone that walked by as she was put out of her day. Fyr could only imagine what she'd planned to do with Ropes, only to be thwarted by her own daughter taking the lead. Drumming her fingers on the arm of the stiff-backed chair, Fyr took a deep breath. It felt good to take charge, if only to do what was right for her husband and his partner. It made her feel taller, bolder, stronger, like she could sit up straight and smile with confidence in her eyes. Not that she much knew what confidence looked like in one's eyes, but she was damn sure going to try to make it shine.
The doctor, however, could have been more tactfully chosen for a dragoness in Sasha's condition.
"Well, well, well, always a pleasure to meet a new patient. Are you from out of town?"
The fox should have been pleasant enough, a bright orange type with black ears and paws, glasses balanced on his snout rather than clipped into the fur on his head as if he didn't want to concern himself with keeping them completely securely in place...and yet there was something about him that made Fyr's back teeth itch, as the expression went. His amber eyes gleamed in the stark overhead lighting, enough to observe any patient without flattering them in the slightest, which his paws moved quickly across the keyboard, jotting down heaven knew what.
Sasha surveyed him with her legs crossed, muzzle tilted away.
"Yes, but I am moving here permanently. You could say that I already have."
"Good, good..." He wasn't really listening, only one ear twitching as his body responded without his mind taking note. "And would that be the address on file? The last address?"
The dragoness stiffened and Fyr shot her a look from the chair in the corner, sitting out of the way and yet still able to intervene if needed. Sasha seemed to deflate, shoulders rounding forward only an amount that Fyr would have noticed. There was nothing her mother did those days that bypassed her attention; or, at least, that was what she liked to think.
Stroking his whiskers, Dr Johnson glanced between Sasha and the computer screen. One could only imagine which he was more interested in.
"Your patient card said that you had some indents in your body that you wanted me to take a look at?"
The blue dragoness scowled at him, wings mantling threateningly over her back.
"Yes... It seems that something has...appeared and I'm quite concerned about it."
He smiled in what Fyr supposed he thought was a kind manner, but truly just came off as just a little bit sinister. Even Sasha pulled back slightly, a look of abject trepidation crossing her muzzle.
"Well then, hop up and I'll take a good look at you."
Reluctantly, Sasha stood and rolled up the hem of her T-shirt, which bragged the logo of another metal band that she'd apparently been very into 'back in the day' and had recently rediscovered. She'd been digging out a lot of them lately, for what reason Fyr could not possibly fathom. Half of them were ratty and faded, but her mother seemed to love them either way.
The fox whistled as the holes in Sasha's stomach were revealed, the ovals at a slant back towards her sides as if to point down like arrows towards her crotch. The swell of her stomach could not be missed, but he was far more interested in the deformity - not that they looked very much like deformities. The dragoness shifted uncomfortably as he snapped on a pair of green gloves, which all of them hoped were latex free. He was, however, surprisingly gentle in running his finger around the growing holes, which dipped in along with her scales as if she had squashed a divot into her own skin and was simply waiting for it to spring back into place.
