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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.
*****
Of Training and Cream Pies
With a solid thwack, the arrow thudded into the scarlet centre of the target, earning a low, appreciative murmur from the other archers, who had been sneaking a glance at the Mistress of the Bow herself as they practiced. The feathered tail quivered in the heavy wood before falling still, embedded by an inborn talent that many could only dream of acquiring through sheer perseverance; few were privileged or disciplined enough to attain such a high skill level. One such privileged person was the shapely bunny who had fired the shot. She stood tall, her paws set a shoulder width apart, steadying her frame, and surveyed the shot critically, seeing improvements where others would not. Satisfied, she flicked her hair back over her shoulder, knowing with an instinctual certainty that the distance had been comparable to what a highly skilled archer might possibly attempt in the heat of battle – not something attempted for recreation or practice.
Failing to withhold a tight-lipped smile, Natasha nocked another arrow to her bow, raising it skilfully for her next shot. It was good to be on the shooting range once more, she thought. After last night…she had wondered what kind of reception she would receive and how she would perceive it.
She fought to steady her bow, brow furrowing deeply in concentration. She could feel them around her, the other archers. The twang of bowstrings and soft thuds of arrows striking their marks was subtly intermingled with the friendly banter of those training, some instructors alternately barking instructions and hollering support, Natasha’s own among them. Straining to maintain some semblance of focus, the prickling, nerve-twisting sensation of being watched made her body shiver reflexively. It was not as if she minded them watching her practice any longer, but she wondered… Did she gain their attention for her skill or for her body?
Flinching, Natasha’s ears twitched and the arrow sprang from the bow, terribly off from the intended mark. She sighed laboriously as the arrow landed lightly in the damp grass, a sad and forlorn twig amongst the sturdy targets with better aimed arrows branching out from the wood. She glanced about, allowing herself a sheepish smile at a nearby archer who had looked over in concern when the stray arrow had drifted into his line of sight.
“Natasha!”
The archery instructor, a burly storm-grey bull with keen, amber eyes, waved her over, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. He rubbed his knuckles across his forehead, a heavy, moist snort misting the air for a second before vanishing. Releasing a resigned sigh in turn, Natasha hooked her bow over her shoulder and padded over, her tread leaving dewy footprints in the damp grass.
The bull, fondly called ‘Sergeant’ by his friends, students and pretty much everyone else too from force of habit, shook his head at Natasha, fingering his powerful, curved horns with a delicate touch.
“You missed by a mile, Natasha,” he snorted, gesturing as if to both state the obvious and demonstrate the mistake once again. “Where’s your head at today, hm? This isn’t like you – are you feeling unwell?”
“No, Sergeant,” she replied, leaning back on her heels. “I feel fine – slept very well, really. I’m just finding it difficult to concentrate this morning. My next shots will be better.”
“Sure?”
Natasha nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair off her muzzle, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden; was there really any point in lying to Sarge that everything was fine, just fine, when he could see right through her?
“It’s only…” She began slowly then trailed off, eyes averting to the other archers, who were going about practice as normal.
“Only what, Natasha?” Sergeant prompted, placing a supportive paw in the small of her back.
She shifted anxiously, her cotton tail twitching with a mind of its own, and sought to banish the scattered remnants of her nerves.
“Only…after last night…” she said awkwardly, a glimmer of stubbornness bidding her to raise her muzzle to meet Sergeant’s eyes squarely. “My initiation – there are men here that were with me last night… What if they treat me differently after this? I know they are watching me and I want respect from them. Maybe it is strange to hear me say this…but I believe that it is something I deserve now, especially now.”
Sergeant chewed his lip, pondering what she had said. Her concerns were surely justified if she had been in her old world but here… Natasha had to learn that she had nothing to worry about and certainly had to maintain her training with ease of mind. Perhaps there was a way to… Ah, yes: that would do the trick nicely. He smiled secretively.
“Come casino oyna with me,” he said abruptly, clapping his palms together and beckoning Natasha to follow. She rapidly trotted up alongside the larger male, a natural, relaxed bounce evident in her step even with her subtle trepidation. She squeaked as Sergeant’s paw settled lightly upon her pert behind, restricted only by her light cloak, which staved off the morning chill.
So strange… She mused absent-mindedly. There was something about his touch that made her feel unusually secure, like a paw placed upon a friend’s shoulder – only better. The bunny half-smiled as she contemplated propositioning Sergeant to join her in the bedroom later that day if time permitted; she had an inkling that he was quite the generous lover and was curious to discover if her gut instinct rang true.
Her wariness increased when Sarge called out for several archers – the very men she had voiced her concerns about – to join them, the males greeting Natasha with what was quickly becoming characteristic warmth. Alron rolled his eyes with cheeky humour at Sergeant’s paw on Natasha’s rear, curling his arm around her waist and stealing a quick kiss from her muzzle, making her giggle softly.
“Right, lads,” Sergeant said when he had gathered all he had wished. “Drill practice today with my lovely lady here, Natasha, who I am sure you all are familiar with. Archery and sprinting combo – sprint towards the each of the target sets in the usual order, fire when instructed and sprint to the next. Five sets of this, let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with that stamina training, eh, Alron?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” He responded quickly, snapping to attention – his eyes had been on Natasha again who shook her head slightly at Sarge: See? I was right.
Breathing out slowly, Natasha steadied herself. She was familiar with the placement of the targets, having run this particular drill session herself before, so the basic knowledge was not an issue. She also found herself comfortable with the idea of being in charge of the group; no butterflies were fluttering up to attack the lining of her stomach, which would have certainly been the case not so long ago.
The only question was…would they listen to her?
Only one way to find out, she thought, meeting Sergeant’s eyes and nodding as he stepped back, allowing her to take charge.
“Right, lads,” she said loudly, acquiring their attention instantly in an imitation of the Sergeant – hell, it was not as if they had not all mimicked him before. “Take up position, single file, well spread out.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, watching them move into position with a critical eye. It did not seem like they were about to disobey her instructions or be disrespectful, but it was too soon to really tell. Steeling herself, she pinpointed the first set of targets and then snapped her muzzle back to face them.
“Ready… Go! First target! Sprint, sprint!”
And they were gone, pounding towards the first target at full pelt, paws flying as they pushed their bodies ruthlessly for the first set. As the targets had a reasonable distance between them at times, Natasha bounded behind, keeping a short way to back to ascertain the degree to which they performed.
“Stop…and shoot!”
Paws skidded over the grass and they slid to an ungainly halt; every member raised their bow, nocked an arrow and fired, the struggle to keep their paws steady showing in the tremble of their arrows. Natasha smiled grimly as the arrows thudded into the targets, some off centre but carrying not a single bad shot.
“Next target – go!”
Her sharp eyes picked out the next target and she mentally ran through the remainder of the drill; she knew where every target was, that was no issue. She wrinkled her nose, almost feeling uncomfortable without the wave of nerves that should have accompanied her mental review of the drill. Normally, she would have been panicked for the few driven seconds that it took to reassure herself that, yes, she did know what she was doing and, no, she was not making a fool of herself. The absence of fear was a luxury indeed.
Flat-soled boots sinking into the mud, Natasha bounded forward at a respectable distance from her training group, hollering orders when necessary, her critical eye missing nothing – positive or negative. She yelled encouragement as often as constructive criticism, lips pursing when the lads, fighting to control their racing heart rates upon the last set, missed more targets than they struck.
We need to run this drill more often, she realised, calling the command for the final target to be fired at. We’re not ready to shoot on the move in battle…if there was to be any battle, that is.
“All right, that’s enough now!” she called, waving the males back. “Collect your arrows, don’t let them go to waste. Leave your gear at the storeroom and regroup here.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” they chorused, feet dragging as they moved to do as instructed.
“You did well,” came a low, approving voice in her canlı casino ear. She didn’t even flinch, rolling her eyes and rocking back on her heels to glance up at the Sergeant, who had, with underlying stealth, come to stand behind her. “Of course,” he added after a moment’s thought, “they might have run a little quicker for me.”
“Are you serious?” Natasha snorted dismissively. “They pushed themselves far harder for me today – harder than I expected, in all honesty.”
“Maybe you should be a Drill Instructor then, m’dear,” he chuckled, shaking his head thoughtfully.
“Maybe I should,” Natasha quipped cheekily, placing a paw lightly upon the bull’s chest, eyes cast mischievously downwards. “I give them more to focus upon.”
“Not with that pesky cape hiding your…ah…assets,” Sergeant smirked, moving as if to snatch the covering away from the bunny. Squealing playfully, Natasha danced away, wagging her finger admonishingly at him.
“Nuh-uh, only when she says,” Alron purred, returning with a smug grin. “Haven’t you learned that yet, Sergeant?”
Vehemently, the other males punched the air in agreement, the roe buck even leaping off the ground for a moment in a move akin to his feral counterpart. Natasha’s eyes glittered, her ears perking right up as she fought to contain the sudden surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. After all that… They did still respect her. Perhaps they respected her even more, which was almost beyond rational comprehension.
“Can’t a guy even be playful now?” The bull grumbled good-naturedly, adopting a mortally wounded expression. “I can’t even tease a lovely lady without sheer insolence from you lot!”
“Oh, not only from them, Sergeant,” Natasha said casually, finding her voice. “Me too.”
Alron guffawed loudly and even Sergeant cracked a half-smile, thinking that he did not particularly mind cheek from the cute bunny. She was too sweet to be mad at – it was all in good fun regardless of what was actually said. And fun was good for their morale.
“Finish the training session, Natasha,” he said gruffly, struggling to conceal the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then you may retire for the day. Keep up their morale and send them back to me in one piece, you hear?”
“Maybe, if I feel like it,” she said, giggling when he rolled his eyes and strode away, rapidly returning to hollering orders in his trademark instructor’s pitch. Natasha chuckled again, more to herself this time, and winked wickedly at her group.
“Morale, huh? Right, lads! I’ve got something to teach you now! Fall into formation behind me.”
He’s either going to kill me for this…or not.
“Ready? You know those ‘cadences’ the others have been singing lately?” She paused while they nodded and murmured their acknowledgement of this. “Well, we’re going to be singing a very special one today, lads. Fall in and march!”
Natasha smirked, the glint in her eye overshadowing the unfamiliar movement of her lips, and the boys cocked their muzzles inquisitively. She stepped forward lightly, lifting her shapely legs unashamedly to march, slipping into the motion as if into a warm bath after a long day of work. The lads were more ungainly and Natasha fought to contain a bubble of laughter that threatened to burst forth.
“Come on, boys – Alron! You guys should be very familiar with this tune!”
Tossing her hair back to dislodge the sweaty strands slicked to her neck, the bunny cast a flirty wink to Sarge, who raised a disbelieving eyebrow: Well then? He appeared to be asking. His eyes were on her body and yet…she did not mind, not now – not anymore. She smiled genuinely, raising her paw to alert the others, and chanted.
“The Army calls ’em drill sergeants,
The Navy calls ’em RDC’s,
The Air Force calls ’em their TI’s;
But mine is strictly a DI:
“Drill Instructor,” then his rank
Unless you want to play games,
Never “sir” or something more
Or my face is on the floor!”
A soft giggle escaped behind her, followed a split second later by a muffled “oof”. Winking slyly, Natasha shushed the boys with the frantic motions of her paw, not daring to sneak a cheeky glance at Sergeant’s expression yet. He probably wouldn’t be angry…but she was not nearly as daring as she would have liked to be about teasing him, holding on to her old sense of politeness for the sake of mere formality. The boys jostled one another, stifling their laughs behind paws and gear; Alron rubbed the back of his skull, a dazed look in his eyes accompanying his delighted grin. Natasha closed her eyes, soothed by the steady, rhythmic marching at her heels, soft, pink lips parting once again.
“If I called him “Drill Sergeant,”
He’d take me out to the pit.
If I called him a TI,
He’d make me feel like I would die.
If I called him RDC,
He’d make an example out of me!”
Natasha spun on her heel and smirked at Sarge, who had the most endearingly incredulous expression upon his muzzle. The bunny smoothed kaçak casino her ears back and blinked innocently at him, sweeping her cape to one side to permit him a tantalising peek at her bouncing, round bottom, pivoting back to drive the boys on to the cadences pinnacle.
“So make sure you get it right,
Or you’ll end up in his sights!”
That sealed the deal: on the final line, laughter overwhelmed the group, half doubling over on the spot. Even Sarge chuckled to himself, fingering one horn, and sweeping his gaze to the bunny, eyes warm with affection but also pride. It was good to see her laughing and not taking everything so seriously. The fur in question, giggled madly until tears rolled down her cheeks, holding her side to stave off a splitting cramp.
It felt good to laugh.
“Now if I may have your full attention, boys,” Natasha said, standing upright with difficulty and taking up position at the head of the group, she dropped her cape with a wicked smirk. “Follow in formation around the perimeter of the grounds for one more lap and do not get distracted! Same cadence again, if you please.”
Jess, sparring on the far side of the field near Sarge, twitched her ears in amusement as Natasha marched by, her following group visibly struggling to maintain concentration and keep their erections from causing more than the most meagre distraction. She winced as her sparring partner landed a glancing blow on her shoulder, which she eagerly leaped forward to counter, her fists pummelling into her partner’s defence in a basic but effective move, until he stepped back, raising her paws in defeat.
Tom flashed her a smile and she nodded in return, acknowledging his praise of her session. As she was finished for the day, but awaiting feedback from the Sergeant, Jessica walked on the spot patiently until her breathing steadied, although no response was forthcoming from the bull. She gave a tiny frown and looked up at him, chuckling softly; of course, he only had eyes for the bunny practically prancing sexily about the arena.
“Hello? Sergeant?” Jessica giggled, waving her paw tentatively a couple of inches from his muzzle. He blinked dazedly, as if returning to reality from a hypnotist’s trance, smiling pleasantly.
“I’m sorry, my dear, my mind was not in the right place. Cool down now, stretches, you know the routine.”
“Actually,” she began, leaning forward and down to stretch out her legs, feeling the pull of well-worked muscles. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“And what would that be?” He answered with a question, his gaze flicking to her soft, round rear, so perfectly displayed.
“Hm…it’s just that it seems strange to me that everyone still finds nudity arousing here. Back at home, if someone wears an unusual, sometimes shocking, article, we eventually become accustomed to it and it loses the “shock factor” after a while. Why is that not the case here, for nudity though?”
“I’m glad you asked that Jess,” he murmured thoughtfully, impressed. “It all goes back to the Blessing.”
“The Blessing?”
Sarge nodded, gesturing for her to continue stretching while he talked.
“It is the Blessing of the Goddess that allows us to enjoy our natural state. The Goddess granted us this, but it is subject to some…rules, if you will. Citizens of Jahaliya must behave in a just and compassionate manner at all times – no exceptions. For example, if someone was to ridicule the naked body of another, that would go against the rule of the Blessing. If one of us was to break the rule of respect…” His voice trailed off and Jessica paused in the midst of stretching her arm muscles.
“What? What would happen?” She probed, bushy tail twitching in intense curiosity.
“We would become…in a sense like people from your world, concerning what you have told us of their attitude towards nudity. We would become ashamed of ourselves and cover up our bodies, concealing our sexual acts behind lies and closed doors. Nudity would no longer be arousing to us.
“I cannot imagine that ever happening here.”
Jessica flinched in sympathy, making a soft noise of discomfort at the thought. Now that she had learned to be comfortable nude, she was not sure that she would desire to revert back to her old ways. Being naked was so…liberating. And to have nudity be less arousing once more was a terrible thought indeed to the red panda.
“That’s awful,” she whispered hoarsely, afraid to speak any louder in that moment. Sarge shook his head reassuringly and held out a paw, which she took, to assist her to her feet.
“It has not happened during my lifetime, so do not fear: it is very unlikely to occur, however dreadful the notion of it is. Even if it was to happen, once the culprit – the lawbreaker – is caught and set to rights, things would slowly return to normal, so it is not a permanent state as long as we put things right once more.”
Jessica suddenly realised that she was standing very close to Sarge – her chest was almost brushing his, her nipples rising into firm buds not from the cool air. She raised her eyebrows and fought off what she knew was an unnecessary blush, feeling the Sergeant’s member steadily hardening against her stomach as he smirked mannishly.
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