Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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
It took Fyr longer than she should have been proud to admit that she welcomed the kiss, leaning into Scott as her eyes closed to the troubles of the world around them. Her fingers twitched, although she did not yet raise them to encircle his neck, his tongue brushing hers so tentatively that it was as if he was asking for permission without words. Of course, words would require him to break the kiss and, so, words were not had between them.
The barn door slammed open, bouncing off the opposite wall as a pigeon startled from the rafters with a coo and a rapid fluttering of feathers, wings seemingly too small to get such a plump body airborne.
And she snapped back to reality, rose tinted glasses flying off to be buried in some dark and dusty corner where she could never be tempted, not even for a moment, to slide them curiously back up her snout. The stoat flinched, their eyes opening at the same time, too close for comfort as they lent a shocking clarity to the false intimacy of the moment. For it had to be false – oh, it could not possibly be anything else!
Fyr’s heart pounded, the dragoness shooting away from the stoat as if she’d been stung. And she may as well have been, or perhaps at least electrified, as the tingle of his kiss lingered on her lips. Without thinking, her paw rose automatically to brush them. How long had it been since she’d been kissed like that?
Only, she wasn’t supposed to be kissing the stoat. She wasn’t even sure that she was supposed to be kissing anyone with her status in the household! And her husband… Despite her knowledge of his carnal relations with, well, pretty much anyone and everyone, including her very own mother and his turning long-term lover, she reeled from the notion of cheating herself. It was wrong! It was just that she let him do what he wanted: yes, that was it. She would never have been able to stop a demon of lust from cheating and, although she’d thought she could temper it some, she’d always known that she’d have to see things a little differently.
Only, she’d never realised how much her life would change with the demon cougar over the years they spent together. It had changed so that their time dating, in fact, was completely and utterly unrecognisable.
Bare hind paws entered the barn, claws scraping lightly. Fyr winced. Whoever was there, they needed trimming.
Her heart tightened in her throat, pulse racing. Her mother! Just what the hell was she doing at the barn? Surely she didn’t follow her there? It was obvious, of course, that she was there – where else would she seek refuge in a storm? – but she had not expected to be so disturbed. And much less at the very moment that her lips touched those soft, warm ones of Scott’s, her memory burning with still vibrant sensation.
The stoat in question was up on his hind paws too, though Fyr could not have, in hindsight, pinpointed the exact moment that she found herself up on her paws too, trembling so badly that it was a wonder that she was able to stand at all. He mouth opened and closed several times without any sound coming out as her mother called again, closer and closer with every passing second.
Thankfully, Scott, at least, had some words, even if they weren’t particularly eloquent ones.
“Ma’am, I really should be on my way now,” he said, shuffling his hind paws awkwardly as he shuffled away. “I… Oh…”
It seemed that he had not the words to capture what had just happened either and, like Scott, Fyr chose to completely and utterly pretend that it had never happened.
“Yes, yes!” She trilled, her voice a lot higher pitched than it normally was, eyes wide and darting. “That’s quite alright, thank you so much for coming in on your day off and do let me know what I owe you, yes? We’ll keep the books right, won’t we? Ha ha ha!”
The laugh was forced, a space between each false exclamation of amusement – what the hell could be amusing about such a situation? – but her heart was pounding too wildly to call any sense of rationality to her mind. Blood roared in her ears, worse even than the sickening, chilling shocks that had becoming a common occurrence under Ropes and Sasha’s dominant paws, and she floundered to get something into her paws, anything at all to occupy her twitching, anxious fingers.
The egg! Cursing herself, she lunged for it, thankfully still perched on the bench in its little nest of blankets. But how could she have possibly forgotten it when it was so very important? Fyr stiffened, cradling the egg beneath her breasts as if she was afraid someone, maybe her mother on her approach, batman escort was going to snatch it away and claim it as their own. Though, that was really a silly thought when she spent the time to consider her desire. After all, it wasn’t as if the egg was actually hers.
But maybe she just needed something to call hers, at any cost possible.
“Fyr! There you are!”
Her mother smiled, though it wasn’t as wide as her usual wicked grin, coming to a halt a few feet from her daughter and the stoat. Tipping an imagined hat to the older dragoness, Scott mumbled, red in the face and inner ears, and made good his escape, although something pulled in Fyr to see him disappearing so swiftly. Did she really like him? Or was it just that he sat and paid her the attention she’d been craving for so long.
“Oh, Scott, I didn’t realise…”
But the stoat was already gone, tail flicking as he whisked himself good and away around the corner as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. And, for all he knew, they could have been. For once, Sasha trailed off, shaking her head at the stoat’s rapidly retreating back, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised.
“Well. That’s rather rude of him now, don’t you think?”
Fyr snapped back to her, the memory of what she’d just done rushing from her mind as her paws, once again, curled into fists.
“Rude?” She growled, lips pulling back from her teeth as if to expose them all the more ferociously. “Do you really think you’re one to be talking about others supposedly being rude here?”
Sasha’s expression instantly flicked back to the aggressive, a dark note overcoming her muzzle as she lifted her ragged wings high, flaring them out to their full extent. To her credit, Fyr didn’t even flinch but remained steadfast, standing her ground as her mother hissed.
“You’re needed, oh daughter of mine.”
“What’s that sort of language come from? You sound like Ropes when he’s trying to be all fancy, like. No more ‘y’all’ from you then, is it?”
She couldn’t have poked the bear more and Sasha snarled, lips pulling back along the line of her teeth as she advanced, emerald eyes flashing. Against herself, Fyr shivered. She’d never quite get used to how they now glowed like the pale white of her husband’s eyes without an iris or even a pupil. Sometimes, she imagined that she saw the shadow of a pupil, deep inside, but always had to put it down to a trick of the light for she had found no other explanation for the yearning in her hear.
Ah, things could have been so very different. So very, very different.
And, yet, they weren’t.
“I suggest you refrain from speaking to me in such a crass manner, daughter,” Sasha hissed, the words one long, roiling stream from a maw that flickered with smoke and flame. “You are forgetting your place.”
But, in putting her in her place, they had given her a foundation to stand tall from and Fyr did just that, folding her arms around the egg, pulling it higher, and not even giving her mother’s display the scant time of day.
“Mother, you know you’re putting this on. So, why don’t y’all cut it out now and you can take your egg back like a good mother to care for it, hm?”
The last utterance was a shade more mocking than she would have liked but she made her point well enough, Sasha reeling back as if she had been physically struck across the muzzle. Of course, it was doubtful that Fyr would be able to move her mother even an inch if things came to blows now but the force of her words still held as strong as ever. That tiny, little, minuscule victory gave her some sense of purpose, the dragoness setting her shoulder blades back.
“You’ve neglected it,” she said, frankly and plainly without a scrap of traitorous emotion in her voice. “Fix it. You’ll be the one they look to when they hatch. Or did you think you were going to play me off as the mother?”
For, as much as she longed to have the egg for her own – or an egg of her own, for that matter – Fyr knew that the youngster, a demon like its parents, would know that she was not its birth mother, whether they ended up being male or female. They would so clearly be a hybrid and, even at the feline end of the scale, there would not be anything in their genes to draw a crimson tint to their scales nor a stripe to their hide. No, that had been something she’d gotten from her father’s genetics and there could be no hiding.
And, so, it was time to force both of them to face the inevitable, both the mother and the nanny. Or maybe an ‘aunt’ would be more appropriate. The exact term did not matter, only the purpose of the discussion.
Sasha fell quiet, wings softening just a little as they drew in closer to her back.
“An egg does not require the care you think it does, Fyr,” she said, her tone altogether softer and more reasonable. “We are not required to heat them with our bodies like our kind did in times of old. The climate here is well enough to ensure they are kept at a comfortable temperature for a hatchling to bayburt escort grow.”
Fyr raised an eyebrow. Impressive. Almost. Kind of.
“And just where did you hear that,” Fyr pressed, refusing to give an inch. “The books I gave you? I thought they were busy gathering dust somewhere under your bed.”
The quiet admittance drew Fyr up, although the dragoness continued to eye her mother sceptically, the barn ringing clear with an eerie kind of silence. A cloud swept over the sun outside, turning the inside into an artificial twilight without the lights turned on (the electrical wiring and running water for the barn had been sorted a few weeks back). Neither, however, moved to turn the light on, two pairs of eyes locked in the gloom with an egg between them.
“I did read them,” her mother continued, quietly, levelly, as if she was preparing for something more. “I read every one of them.”
Fyr laughed, though it came out hoarse and raw without a trace of humour. Just where had that gone too?
“Really now? I hardly believe that.”
And just when had she become so coarse and callous too? Fyr didn’t recognise herself like she didn’t recognise the relationships she found herself trapped in, as much as she enjoyed a considerable amount of what she was trapped in.
“I found time.”
“Between you fucking everyone else and my husband fucking you, no doubt.”
To Fyr’s shock, Sasha didn’t even deny it. She didn’t launch herself at her daughter and she didn’t growl – neither did she snarl. No, Sasha did not make a single noise bar a long, heavy sigh that Fyr could have given herself as if the cliché of the weight of the whole world rested on her shoulders, a dead weight that was hers and hers alone to bear.
Against herself, something in Fyr’s heart pulled. She wanted to comfort her mother, wrap her arms around her and say how sorry she was, although she didn’t really have anything at all to be sorry for, not truly. She wanted to be in her good books, the good little dragoness she’d been when she was younger and the good submissive dragoness they were, slowly but surely, training her to be.
She could be that, couldn’t she? Fyr wavered, arms tightening around the egg, hardly realising that she still held it, as it had become such an intrinsic part of her since it had been laid. What did her mother need from her to be proud of her again, for her to see that look of disappointment and sadness wiped from her muzzle, never, ever to return?
She’d kissed Scott.
Fyr swallowed. As small as her comparable transgression was, if it even was a transgression at all, it was still there, a lingering niggle of guilt that overpowered the taste of him residing on her lips.
Fyr hated herself for giving in and yet it came with such an intoxicating rush of relief that it was no wonder she had let it come too. Inhaling deeply, her lungs expanded in such a way that she had not been able to manage since she’d left her mother in a rage at the house, head spinning as if a lack of oxygen had truly been the problem all along.
“It’s okay…” Fyr shuddered, taking a juddering breath and then another. “I’m sorry. I know things are rough right now and that’s an understatement. I meant what I said but I could have gone about it better.”
Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line and the dragoness shook her head.
“Yes, I most definitely meant what I said.”
She could not, after all, give all the ground if she wanted to retain some sense of self. There was a part of an apology to be made for part of the problem but the rest was not to come from her lips at the end of the day. And, sometimes, one had to make the first move in order to allow the other to shift from position.
“I’m sorry too, Fyr,” her mother said quietly, so quietly that Fyr actually had to strain to hear her. “I didn’t think about how this was affecting you but it is. I thought you liked it…”
“I do!” Fyr surprised herself with how quickly the words leapt to her lips, flushing hot to hear them. “It’s just… Things are different now and I think we have to all sit down together and talk about, you know, how things are going to be from here.”
She couldn’t have been more shocked to see her mother nodding along, the older dragoness somehow finding the grace in herself to, at least, appear somewhat abashed. Folding her wings in close to her back, the dragoness clad in some band T-shirt that was too old for Fyr to recognise stepped forward, making an attempt to close the distance between them.
“I know,” she said simply, although Fyr could not help but feel, rightly so, that there was so much more she could say along with that. “I know. But we need to go home first. And then…” She sighed. “Then, we can talk.”
For the time being, that would have to be good enough in Fyr’s mind. The dragoness found herself nodding, exhausting clawing at the corners of her mind as her mother held out her paws for the egg.
“Leave the truck here. You bebek escort look like you’re dead on your feet, darling.”
And, so, Fyr handed over the egg gratefully, relinquished of its responsibility if but for a time, and allowed herself to be guided to her mother’s sports car – a purchase that Fyr still refused to comment on – as exhaustion well and truly claimed her. She dozed in the passenger seat, drifting in and out of consciousness as the events of the day came to a head and she was forced to acknowledge just what she’d done, at least in part. She didn’t quite have to reveal it as yet, if ever, yet it would forever weigh heavy on her heart.
She’d kissed Scott.
That was her mess to sort out.
Yet the discussion her mother promised did not come that day nor the next as Fyr woke with a pounding headache and a sore throat that rendered talking impossible. For once, she was allowed to sleep in the warmth and comfort of her own bed with her husband beside her, although it was a shame that she was not entirely with reality enough to truly appreciate it. She didn’t know where Sasha slept and she wasn’t in her mind enough to care, just thankful to have a mattress beneath her again and Ropes’ arm around her of a night.
If she didn’t think about the egg, its presence looming in the cradling sling that Sasha had purchased for it, carrying it around with her easily, she could imagine that all was well again. She could have been in a normal house with her mother visiting perfectly normal and everything could have been so very plain and frightfully normal that she might very well have dropped off dead asleep from the very threat of it. Things could have been just like the life of any other fur in her town, if she thought hard enough about it or simply deigned to remember the parts that made her stomach coil and twist.
And then she wouldn’t have had the pleasure, the dragoness’ needs still yearning to be sated despite her being taken by illness. For the body did not know that it would recover shortly and she groaned, paws between her legs when she was left alone during the day, bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm as she fantasised about Ropes fucking her mother.
Even her fogged up mind couldn’t deny what she loved.
Still, the lapse was not to last forever and she was well aware that change and the conversation was coming, although the dragoness swiftly tired of lying around in bed all day. There was only so much on the little bedroom TV to watch and books to read (most had been given away in preparation for the later move, though they would undoubtedly be replaced with new texts from the second-hand bookshops) and, well, time with her paws between her legs was all well enough but that was tiring too, as silly as it sounded to say. She was glad when she could get out of bed again and stretch out her muscles, padding to the shower with the upstairs hallway only tilting a little as vertigo threatened the edges of her mind.
The days that followed were better and Fyr returned to work, the promise of the conversation with Sasha nearly forgotten as she was, once again, relegated back to the sofa before the move. She had not quite realised just how much she’d enjoyed the comfort of having a mattress and, even as she regained her full strength after what she could only say was a bad bout of flu, she threw herself into work on the ranch.
Still, she avoided Scott and he avoided her. The little agreement they had – unspoken, of course – to not say a word about anything at all that had happened seemed to be working well enough as long as they did not spend much time in each other’s presence. He stopped doing extra work on the ranch for which she was both disappointed and glad. Whereas it left her bank account looking ever so slightly healthier, it didn’t do much for her mind and wondering what could have happened, if things had only been different.
But things were not different and she was going to have to find a way out of the mess, one way or another.
Returning home from work with a groan, Fyr hung her handbag up behind the front door and shrugged out of her jacket, fanning herself with a paw. The sun had come out and, although it was a welcome sight, it still baked the pavement, rendering more than a shirt an absolute travesty, if anyone were to ask her. Of course, no one asked her and she instead grumbled in silence on her walk home from the bus station, her truck in the shop to have some work done. For once, it wasn’t a part she could easily acquire but at least her friend in the shop was going to cut her a deal on the work. Anything to do with the engine, as long as that bastard lasted, was beyond the scope of the time she currently had available to do the work herself too.
“Fyr? Can you come upstairs, sweetie?”
She hardly thought about the request, sickly sweet, her hind paws already moving to obey as she traipsed slowly up the stairs with every last scrap of energy she had. It had been a long day, too long of a day, and there had been far too much still to catch up on at work from her time off. Who knew that she was so important to the day to day running of that place? It had been a blessing, at first, but the additional workload did nothing to ease the strain already on her mind from her more personal affairs.