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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"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"
It should not have been such a strange sound to hear at all in the confines of her own household, Fyr by now being well enough familiar with all manner of debauchery that took place on a daily basis. And yet it set her back teeth on edge, itching oddly as if she needed to grind them, nerves fried and the need to be elsewhere, absolutely anywhere else at all, pulling at her soul like an otherworldly force.
However, she'd tried that already: and look just where that had gotten her. For the reason that her mother was crying out so passionately -- all for her daughter's benefit, of course -- was her very own brother who knew what she liked, supposedly, and did a damn fine job as a newly fledged demon in drawing such pleasure from her less than aged bones.
Kao...
She tried not to think of him but it was, of course, impossible to even simply ignore his presence with his thrusts rocking the wall on the other side of her head. Being that she was the only one in the family (bar Scott -- did the stoat count in that regard?) that actually seemed to do any chores at all around the place, she'd thought the kitchen would be a safe enough spot in which to take a little time for herself, just somewhere where she could set up a canvas on an easel and get her old acrylics out of the box where they had sat for far too long. For so long, in fact, that some of the paints had gone bad, hard and crusty, and had not even been salvageable for the sake of her hobby, even though it was only something that she was able to do sometimes. Not often: just sometimes.
And her family seemed intent on disrupting that too, although she doubted that they actually cared much about what she was doing or why she was doing it, if they even realised that she was in the next room at all. Clenching her jaw so hard that a muscle jumped in the corner, the painful line of aching drawing soreness right down to her tightly pressed together lips, she tried to focus on the splash of colour already on the canvas to the exclusion of all else, despite just how her vision blurred.
No. No, I'm not going to do that.
But the tears came regardless of whether she wanted them to or not, splattering her cheeks as he tipped her muzzle forward, teeth grinding and clenching and chewing as if she was trying to force a particularly stubborn scrap of meat to the back of her throat. Reality, indeed, had become a hard pill to swallow and she shook her head, wiping the back of her paw stubbornly across her red scales, a mucky streak of paint left in its wake, although that in itself seemed oddly fitting considering just what she was taking on right then at that moment in time as her hobby of choice. It was better than simply sitting and listening and wondering just how her brother turning into a demon was going to change the already shocking landscape of her life.
It was a strange thing to think, really -- such a strange thing, in fact, that she could not help but laugh out loud at herself, a strange sort of mocking, chuffing sound that was entirely devoid of any sense of humour or genuine mirth at all. Just what did she have to be happy about? Maybe Kao would have been fine, just fine, if he hadn't thought that he'd needed to come home with her, to protect her. Maybe he would be home in his swanky, big apartment with Chem, having a pizza or something on one of their days off together. She'd never know and she very much doubted that he ever would know that again, if she knew anything at all about the demonic nuances of her family.
Sasha screamed and Fyr groaned, blinking rapidly and focusing on the sick curl of hot anger in her stomach. Yes, that was better than being upset, yet she knew it was not good to keep on focusing on anger as if that would solve anything. Paint slashed the canvas as her brush flew, making a mess of it but not needing anything specific to appear. It was fine, all fine, and she could just ignore their moans of climax, even though there never would, really, be any way for a demon to disguise their roar of climax (Ropes himself was exceptionally loud too). Kao made it well enough known too that he was enjoying himself as Sasha heaved out pants and moans loud enough to carry through even the wall and closed door (deliberately so) into the kitchen itself where Fyr painted out her passion and her anger and let the paint lie where it fell, splatters surrounding her.
Her chest heaved as they quieted down but she did not feel all that much better in herself -- not unless exhaustion counted as better, her wings drooping as if she had been drained of every last drop of energy she may or may not have possessed to begin with. The canvas showed nothing at all and everything she had ever hoped to see, hot, angry colours meshing together into a distorted face that could have been every last one of her family come together into one grotesque monster. But it was the red of her own scales that her soul, truly, despised the most, glaring out with sick accuracy in pinpointing the true sense of sickness there, what refused to get into her place and stay there.
If she did, would she finally be happy?
It was hard to say and it was hardly something that Fyr wanted to think about either, putting her brush aside and taking a deep breath. That usually helped or worked to soothe her mind, but the tension in her chest grew and grew more and more with every passing second, building up to a screaming crescendo that was truly worse than listening to any climax heard through the walls.
And the sound that ripped itself from her lips would have been befitting and becoming a demon themselves as her brow furrowed, lips pulling back from her teeth in a blood-curdling, devastating sort of snarl -- it could not be defined, really, as any singular sound -- as she backhanded the pot of water that she cleaned off her brushed in, tenderly caring for the heads of them as she did everything else in her possession. Maybe that was just why she had not brought them out before, after moving, for fear and worry that her family would not respect her possessions as much as they respected and enjoyed one another, although neither could the dragoness in question have honestly said that they had actively gone out to destroy any of her belongings. But maybe those belongings were the last things she had left to cling onto as something stable and serene when everything else roiled and clanged in frigid, seething turmoil.
As if in slow-motion, she watched the glass pot fly to the side, spewing dirty water everywhere, droplets flashing as if crystalline in the shaft of sunlight spilling luxuriously into the kitchen window. Such an act of violence, however, could only have one outcome and she could not help but wince herself, even though she'd been the cause of the noise, as the jar shattered on the floor, the water by the by on the linoleum there. It still was not the hard wood that had been laid down throughout much of the rest of the house but that was probably just as well as the cheaper flooring would be ripped up when she had a chance to and she didn't mind the demons gouging it with their claws as much either.
Fuck...
Yet a mess caused had to be cleaned up, even if she admitted, quietly, just to herself, that it had made her feel a teensy little bit better to cause such destruction. Maybe that too was why the demons enjoyed abusing the furniture so much; there was a distinct sense of pleasure in observing destruction, although it was very, very rarely them that would have to clean and fix and tidy after causing such clamour. Fyr, however, didn't have anyone at all that she could boss about and growl at with a saucy wink or two that promised so much without coming through on that promise. No, she had to get down on her paws and knees and hold back her curses as she carefully picked up the biggest shards of glass from the dirty pool of water, her mind already trying to dig up just where she had left the mop. Maybe the front porch to dry? Ah, it had been worth it, regardless, she had to say.
And then cold hit her stomach as if she had swallowed a gulp of ice water that her body simply was not ready for, tail stiff and still and heart pounding. Kao. As if appearing from nowhere, he leaned back against the kitchen door, naked from head to toe with his half-hard cock dripping a cocktail of juices, slick and gleaming as if he had just pulled out of their mother. Fyr swallowed hard, forcing her eyes away, but it was hard to ignore that his dick was out when it was that obvious, the drake a strategic blue blur in the corner of her eye.
A flash of white shone from his muzzle and she flinched instinctively, although a smile was, surely, not exactly something to cringe from as if he was going to lunge at her.
"Hey, sis."
She scowled and turned her back on him, cleaning up the mess with her tail tucked down over her backside as if she didn't want him looking there. It was hard to say just what her brother was capable of but she had to remember that she was still Fyr and he was still her little brother, the younger brother. He had listened to her before and there was no real reason to suspect, she hoped, that he would treat her as her mother had. Of course, Sasha had turned in her treatment of Fyr even before she'd become a demon: that had been pre-meditated. And that was, quite possibly, the last thing that she could hope would not happen with or even to Kao. Her hopes, however, had turned out to be futile over the course of the last months, time passing as smoothly as the seasons, everything clunking and grinding together into one great big mess of a life.