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
Scott should have known to be careful around Fyr’s family. After all, the stoat knew well enough what went on with them, that both Ropes and Sasha were demons and – heaven forbid – that the dragoness Sasha had laid the egg of Fyr’s husband! Just who did that to their own daughter? Of course, he was a stoat in a difficult position himself so he knew well enough just how tricky families could be at the best of times, although he was doing the best he could by his own parents.
Sighing, he stared down at his soggy sandwich, sitting on the back tailgate of the pickup truck that the work company used. It conked out at the worst of times and yet his boss staunchly refused to replace it, tight at best and simply stingy at worst. He wasn’t the worst kind of boss he’d had in his moderately young life – late twenties, young but not aged – but he wasn’t the best either.
It was funny that, wasn’t it? Things went from best to worst and from worst to best and all the way back again just to repeat the cycle. There never had been any middle ground for him and he didn’t expect that to change too, poking at his sandwich until a bit of corned beef stuck out of the corner of it, grey-brown and completely unappetising. He supposed a packet of crisps would have to do instead.
Oh, but the day to day was a hard old grind and he couldn’t help but stare at the bones of the ranch house that his place of work had been brought in to put together, although the detailing work that he loved more than the manual labour was not to be in his job description for the near future. It was up at dawn and eating a reheated frozen dinner while his parents argued in their raspy, wavering tones for him when he got home after work, complaining that he didn’t spend enough time with them in what everyone knew was to be their final years, although the work he was doing…
Ah, what could he do about their opinions? Scott made a face, rounding his shoulders against the onslaught of yet more work, muscles never quite recovering from the previous day before working and hammering away, just to earn a little more coin. A little more money and yet never enough, never enough to make those around him happy. But he had to be happy. And it was, kind of, difficult not to be all that happy when the sun was shining, a blue, blue sky shimmering above. There were only the faintest of wispy clouds up there and, if he tipped his muzzle back to allow the sunshine to wash over his fur, he could forget about everything else.
He could think of a femfur. Ah, yes… The stoat smiled, a goofy grin spreading his lips wide as he went back to his dream. He didn’t mind what species they were, for it had been a long time too since he’d had a lover and he doubted it would be any time soon that he would get another sweetheart for himself. That turned his smile down a little but not entirely. He had always said that he’d still be able to have his fun with the right one that came along, though they had to be understanding that he wasn’t really able to devote all of his time to them. Yet he wasn’t one for a one-night-stand either but, maybe, just maybe things could come up right for him on this one thing alone.
Just a little fun. A little fun and a little break wouldn’t go amiss, he was sure of it. He could go out to a bar and have a few drinks, let his hair down – figuratively speaking, of course. There would be someone nice there who’d like to spend the night with him, he was sure, and then he could do what he needed to do and get on with the rest of his day regardless of whether or not he ever saw them again. It would be so easy too, just like what everyone else did who was just a little on the lonely side.
But he couldn’t.
Scott sighed. It wouldn’t have been like him to do that, wanting a connection above all else before slipping into bed with any sweet femfur. It was one of the worst things about him that he couldn’t just go out and do his thing like so many of the other workers he heard boasting about their conquests and the like. So easy and yet so far out of reach that he could never take the fun or the night off for his own, going back to his parents house that they were about to lose (if he didn’t chip in with the money) and the constant complaints that drove him to his old room, begging excuses of a genuine headache that would never be believed.
And he had work to do too, if he was going to make that money and get on with things good and proper, just like he was supposed to. Throwing himself back into the jobs of the day, he sweated and laboured, building the walls of the home that he would never live in (as was the way casino oyna with construction work). It was going to be a lovely ranch when it was finished too and he sighed sadly, though still put his heart and soul into every bit of work he did, watching it take shape before his very eyes. He wouldn’t have ever wanted to do a shoddy job for someone else, his work ethic rising even as his anger and frustration faded, immersing himself so completely that he didn’t even hear the telltale steps of a fur that he had not had the pleasure of spending all that much time with approaching his site of work.
Jerking to attention, Scott stood upright, tail going rigid, although the stranger standing in the doorway did not set his mind at rest anyway. Sasha cut an imposing figure with her large wings held out slightly to frame her body, the land slipping into twilight to her back. The deck was barely finished and they’d put down a few sacks of sand to step up to the front door, although the whole place was still pretty much bare bones still.
Sasha… Sasha, however, was far from bare bones when it came to her body. It would have taken a strange male indeed to not rake his eyes hungrily over the older dragoness’ body, feasting on her discreetly as he tried not to make it too obvious how he was admiring the line of her jaw. It was a strong for a female fur but that was, perhaps, part of her appeal that she seemed like she could take on a male and win paws down without even breaking a sweat. Not that she was rippling with muscle, of course, but there was still the low, constant tone across her whole body – all that he could see, anyway – and she moved with such fluidity that it was strange to think that she was so old herself. The wisdom of the years had only ever so slightly lined the corners of her eyes, her forehead with a single worry line that probably spoke of a dominant worry over all else.
Did she have a husband? Quietly, Scott kept that thought to himself, putting a polite smile on as he surveyed her from a distance. He’d never seen a husband in the picture and there wasn’t a ring on her finger either but the cougar draped over her arm (or just her whole body) when they’d sat behind in Fyr’s truck while the busy red had been off doing the real work spoke volumes for something seedier going on.
And that left a foul taste in the back of his mouth too.
“Ma’am,” he murmured, tipping his head respectfully. “It’s a mite late to see y’all out here. Where is Miss Fyr? She’s the one usually overseeing this work.”
He was hardly trying to make a point but something in his tone, asking why she was hanging about rather than her daughter, put her back up without him even trying, the dragoness drawing herself up tall and imposing. It didn’t take much, having a larger and more foreboding stature than the stoat, who was not particularly tall even if modestly in the middle of the height ranges, and he swallowed, fighting the desire to step back and away even as he tipped his head respectfully. He would have tipped his hat if he had been wearing one but his paw fell short halfway, his head devoid of its comforting weight.
“Oh, I’m taking care of things today,” she said, eyes sharp as she held her head high, ever aloof from those that she saw as working beneath her. “And I must say that I’m sure liking what I’m seeing.”
She purred the last words, eyes rolling over him as if he was suddenly being doused in a shower that was far too hot to be comfortable, washing over him as his skin prickled with barely restrained heat. He brushed off his work jeans carefully, willing his heart to slow back to a pace something akin to reasonable, but it was not to be. If he’d known Sasha better, perhaps he would have thought to run while he still had a chance, to flee and make good his escape without paying his family’s debts, all to save himself what was to come.
He didn’t know her that well. And, thus, his fate was sealed.
“Well, ma’am,” he said, as politely as was possible. “I’m mighty flattered but I’d best be getting on with my work now, if y’all will excuse me…”
And that was his first encounter with Sasha ended, her gaze burning into his back as he left. If he’d turned, he would have realised that her eyes were on his backside, undressing him mentally even though he was modestly dressed in his usual comfortable work attire. The dragoness was a predator at heart and she both knew what she wanted and how to take it for her own. After all, had she not stolen Fyr’s very own husband out from under her nose without due cause or ceremony?
The stoat could have fled and yet he did not. He could not have known what lay ahead as he got to know Fyr, the dragoness brightening up his days as much as Sasha cast a cloud over it. The touches came quietly at first, the dragoness seeming to plan her visits for times that she knew Fyr was still at work and well and truly occupied; in other words, there was no way she would be caught in the canlı casino act unless Scott spilt the beans. And he was a stoat who just wanted to get on with his work, so he didn’t catch onto it for a while.
A touch on his arm while he was having coffee, the dragoness passing by him so casually that it seemed perfectly plausible that she was simply on her way to the barn, claiming, as she said, that she was just seeing what Fyr was getting up to on the weekends and the like. He didn’t speak much to her, trying to give Sasha as wide a berth as possible even as she insisted on slowly and steadily closing the gap between them, running her fingers across his shoulders as he tried to lay the pipes for the house, sweating and swearing under his breath in such a fashion that he quailed at the thought of any lady hearing those words coming from his lips.
“Such a hard worker…”
Her words were laced with a sultry undertone that he strove to ignore, tail tucked down against the backs of his legs as if he could disappear into the ground if only he tried hard enough. Although he shifted away from her fingers and questing paws, she was persistent, only backing off when another of his work colleagues or his boss was about to, blessedly, offer him some kind of relief. But he was, as always, his professional self and made no attempt to reciprocate any of her actions, although he could not have been said to turn her down and walk away outright entirely either, which was, perhaps, his ultimate downfall.
He could sense her eyes on him even after the spat between her and Fyr when he’d thought that he’d really and truly have to leap between them, protecting the red dragoness. And she was more and more aggressive in her stalking of him, that sports car of hers (that was a new addition and a strange one at that) following him into town on his rare trips to pick up groceries or the late night guilty treat of greasy takeout. Her eyes burned into him, the flaring green orbs near enough impossible to miss in the darkness as she slunk further and further towards the realm of the demonic, even though the poor stoat did not understand quite what was going on at that time, why she pursued him so relentlessly.
And therein lay the difference between him and another, another who could have so very easily have been pursued. A femfur would have been encouraged to tell someone, to open up about what was going on, but a male was never asked to speak up or, if they dared, would have been told that they were weak and useless. He even mocked himself, hiding under the bedspread late at night in the room that used to be his but no longer felt like it. How silly and pathetic was he to be intimidated by Sasha? She was an old dragon! What could a fur like her possibly ever do to him? And why was he so set on edge by her? Oh, no, no, no, no, no – the whole idea of it was preposterous!
Maybe it was a coincidence? Yes… That would have made more sense. There wasn’t anywhere much for a fur to go bar into town and, even there, there weren’t many places for anyone to go, so it made sense that they would keep bumping into each other. Although it was more and more difficult to consider it a coincidence after he kissed Fyr… Or maybe she’d been the one to kiss him… Either way, regardless of who had kissed who first, they had kissed and terror clawed at his heart, telling him that Sasha knew and that was just why she was following him from one place to another.
But… Just why shouldn’t he do something nice for Fyr? Their talks… Their kisses… Sasha clearly had taken her husband away, so what was the harm? Or was he solely contributing to a dark and twisted relationship, making everything all the more difficult for his involvement with Fyr? She deserved something good but she also deserved something that, well, wouldn’t complicate her life even further, surely?
Oh… There was no right answer and neither was there any sense in searching for one either, life rolling on and the clock ticking by each and every hour regardless of what he was or wasn’t doing. His work slipped, thoughts drifting to Fyr and, for a while, it was easy to ignore or even forget Sasha’s presence, although he took great care to ensure he was neither being tracked nor stalked when they were together. For that was one complication that he would never, ever have wished on the sweet red dragoness even as she opened herself up to him, exposing her vulnerabilities as he promised never to use them to his advantage.
One can never quite tell what they may be forced into. Or led into. Or willingly stumble into.
And it was nice too, in a way, to be wanted by the dragoness and, well, her mother too. He couldn’t ignore Sasha’s advances for much longer and having two femfurs after him at once was…interesting. Not that he could truly say that Fyr was pursuing him, though perhaps looking for a little bit of an escape from reality, but Sasha wanted him, even managing to press him up against the wall of the barn kaçak casino when he’d been trying, clearly to no avail, to avoid her by skulking around the back, admiring some of the work that Fyr had been taking on herself.
“Come on, sugar,” she crooned as he, once again, wriggled away, bolting in the direction of his boss and, of course, more work to be done. “You can’t hide away from me forever.”
But he could… Or, at least, that was what he told himself. It was a side more difficult when he was out and about to avoid the dragoness, although she was a little on the obvious side in that car. Slinking around the corners of alleyways, however, she was more difficult to avoid as she followed him down the main street, her shape illuminated in the light drizzle, a seductress haunting his every move.
“Leave me alone, ma’am,” he said once, trying to lay down the law. “It’s not right what y’all are doing. Leave me be to go about my business here.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, looping an arm around his waist. “You can’t run away from me forever… All of this is inevitable and you might as well just give into me right now. I’ll even make it worth your while.”
She kissed him then, a harsh, clumsy kind of kiss that had far too much tongue probing his barely parted lips, demanding entry even as he broke his last rule and clawed at her arm in a desperate attempt to get away. Yet that touch had fired up his soul in a way that he could never have anticipated, nerves tingling as if she had spent her fire inside him, lighting him up from the inside out.
Ah, he was but an innocent soul and that messy kiss lingered, warming his lips long after he had retired for the night. Scott was yet to fail in his unspoken promise but it was all pre-planned and, truly, the stoat had never had a chance to begin with.
It all came to a head in the mall when he was mooching around some discount clothes outlets, checking to see if there may have been something within his price range to replace his increasingly torn and ragged work jeans, which were most certainly looking rather worse for wear. Nothing caught his eyes, however, and, stocked up suitably with groceries, he was just on his way to the parking lot when the dragoness pounced, driving him back up against a quiet wall in the corner of the mall, a potted plant hiding their frenzied encounter.
“What – no!”
But that was all he managed to get out as she pressed her lips to his, taking a sickeningly sweet kiss from him as he frozen in place, something tightening in the pit of his stomach as his heart pounded. Something or someone seemed to cry out in the back of his head, beating on an invisible wall that they could not cross, his will crumbling before the dragoness even as he fought to shock himself back to reality.
He couldn’t kiss her! What about Fyr? What about the dragoness who had been there to brighten his days even as her very own mother seemed to relentless pursue him? Oh, everything was going all wrong!
“Hey there,” she purred. “Seems you’re a busy bee out here… I looked for you at the ranch house.”
Scott shuffled his hind paws uncomfortably, the back of his neck prickling as if he was being stalked. Yet the dragoness made no attempt whatsoever to hide herself, smiling as if pleasantly as she walked up to him oh so very normally. But there was nothing normal about her increasingly ragged appearance, her wings lightly torn around the edges of the membranes as if she’d been in a fight, although there was no appearance of blood or fresh wounds. It set him on edge, knowing what she was – of course, Fyr had spilt everything to him and it was impossible to forget something like that being revealed – and yet he kept himself steadfastly in place, his chin tipped up defiantly.
Maybe he could be strong for her: strong for Fyr. For that dragoness above all else needed a friend.
Only, he was destined to not be a very good friend at all to her, even if their relationship was fraught and unknowing and in such early stages that it was difficult to count what happened next as any kind of betrayal at all.
But Sasha knew just what she was doing when she grabbed the stoat by his collar and whipped him around to the mall bathrooms, eyes alight with a dragon’s hunger, greed driving her on to the end goal.
Yelping, Scott flailed wildly, his shopping bags scattered and spilling their contents in their wake. But they were not his focus as he strove and fought like a wildcat to free himself even as he was thrust into what had to be the disabled bathroom, the door slammed after them and the lock slid resolutely into place with a grind of rusty metal. He gasped and grabbed for his throat where his shirt dug into his windpipe, mouth opening and closing soundlessly until, finally, she loosened her grip just a little bit.
Flustered, he shoved at her but the dragoness’ demonic strength was not to be trifled with, Sasha all too easily holding him back against the wall. The stoat, however, was not designed for brute strength but most certainly for his agility and flexibility, twisting and turning in her hold with his teeth bared in panic, eyes wild and glassy.