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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Breaking Convention
The convention heaved with attendees, both human and furry alike mingling and drinking with lightness in their hearts and laughter on their lips. It seemed easy to relax in the hotel spaces, rooms set aside for events and meeting of the furry persuasion, of course, as the convention itself was set to enjoy and explore the anthropomorphic fandom and all the delights that it held in the wings.
For, although furries were very much a reality in the world, it didn't mean, of course, that an equine could not have a feline fursona and masquerade as an alternate version of themselves. Whereas it had begun as a human nuance, the fandom had grown and grown to include actual furries who also found the fun in becoming something else, if only for a time, in the case of donning fursuits and, in some cases, skinsuits too. With all the recent advancements in costumes and designs, some were of a truly remarkable quality, causing many to look twice to check whether an individual was actually a furry or a human. Often, it was only the lack of muscle movement in the face that gave them away, terrifyingly so.
Arilen sashayed through the convention with a bounce in his step, hooves clip-clopping from one smooth surface to carpet that would surely be worn down after the passage of so many feet, paws and hooves over the course of time. Although slender, the light brown equine had a considerable amount of height on him and matched most males, although the curve of his hips spoke of a more feminine persuasion than may have otherwise been noted. His golden-yellow hair had been lightly curled that morning and even though most of the curls had fallen out as the day had progressed, a gentle wave remained for the evening fun of dancing and drinking and purely making merry with friends that he may otherwise not have the chance to see again for months - if not until the next year!
His clothes caught the eye too - not that that was something that he was immediately against. It was one of the safe places where anyone could dress pretty much however they wanted to, as long as they were decent for the public. Cross-dressing? Sure thing! Long socks? You know it! Rave gear and flashing bands? Well, that was a standard. Although he had not taken the liberty of dying his mane and tail like many others, he had taken advantage of the lack of 'social rules' to wear a tight pair of booty shorts that left little to the imagination along with a more demure yet sheer harem-style shirt that flowed down enough at the front to keep the eyes away from the risqué bulge he left on show.
He didn't need much to show off his body, confident in his sexuality just as he pleased, though he had, for once, chosen to forgo the long socks that he favoured too for another evening where they would look better flung up over the shoulders of another attendee, a muzzle perhaps swallowing down the length of his cock. Arilen shivered, taking his attention away the best he could, lest he make the bulge in his shorts even larger than it actually was. The lighter blue of the shirt complimented the shorts nicely, although the bulge he showed was rather pushing the line so he made sure to not draw too much attention to himself even as he mingled.
"Hey, Arilen!"
"Good to see you!"
It was somehow easier to be social at a convention, even though Arilen was typically an outgoing equine at heart. His ears flicked and twitched, a greeting whinny on his lips as he was pulled from one group to another, laughing and sharing drinks as the bar staff rushed to keep up with the needs of an exceptionally thirsty crowd. At least they'd fixed the issue of not having enough staff on hand to deal with furry fans, which had caused a great deal of upset and frustration the very first year at that venue.
Nicely buzzed, Arilen giggled and pulled himself off the lap of a smaller otter, Jerome, one of his human friends, reaching after him with his convention badges swinging from his neck.
"Aw, c'mon," he cajoled. "Don't head off just yet, you social butterfly!"
Fluttering his fingertips at his friend, Arilen swung his hips, adding a flirty flick of his tail into the mix too just for good measure.
"I'll be back for you, don't you worry!"
He may work his way back around or he may not: that decision was entirely down to Arilen and everyone knew that. He was not a pony to be swayed easily and he enjoyed his freedom, rarely being pinned down for any length of time unless he wanted to be. Arilen shivered, flowing through the crowd as he aimed for the revolving doors: fresh air would be good. But fresh air would not soothe the heat from his skin when it prickled for something more, need rising in the pit of his stomach. After all, he was a stallion and a stallion had needs that had to be fulfilled. Especially if those needs allowed him to be bound spread-eagled across a bed and fucked until he couldn't walk.
Arilen grinned privately to himself, putting an extra little bit of a bounce into his step. Yes, that would be a very fine way to end the night; but the night was still very much young and he had to find that perfect partner, even if they would only be with each other for one night and one night alone!
Stepping out into the fresh air, he breathed easy, closing his eyes as his nostrils fluttered with each breath. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how hot and heavy it could get inside the convention building but the contrast in the cool air of the outside world proved refreshing, cooling his skin as he swished his tail lazily just to create an extra little bit of air movement around his buttocks. The lack of clothing, at least, helped him cool down just a little bit more but he frowned sceptically at the rain pouring down beyond the overhang, which kept the space right at the entrance to the hotel, set in its private grounds, dry and clear. Well, there were still attendees about but it was mostly dry as fursuits bounced around and caused all manner of havoc and play amongst other guests.
He patted his pocket without thinking, checking for his phone, and then tried the other, a line of worry crossing his muzzle. Damn it! Had he really left his phone back in the room again? That wasn't like him! Something must have been wrong with his memory of late and Arilen grumbled lightly to himself, an annoyed twitch to his tail as the dock forced the hairs to flick one way and then the other, a sharp, aggravated motion. Well, he'd just have to go back and get it but he didn't too much fancy weaving his way through the throng of people inside just to get to the elevators or the stairs when he had the cool of outside to enjoy for the moment.
Tapping the side of his muzzle, he smiled and broke into a light walk, hooves ringing out over the pavement as he eased towards the side of the building. The restaurant overlooked the grounds and, just beyond that, there was another entrance that would allow him in, bypassing the worst of the throng. He'd be down in the dry and avoiding the crowds in the blink of an eye with his phone right back in his paw where it belonged. Result!
Set on his plan, he got through to the edge but found his way blocked by a grey stallion who leaned back against the wall with a cigarette between his lips. The smoke curled up sinuously, the depleting butt of the cigarette glowing as it was slowly consumed to fill his lungs. It was hypnotic in its own way, but all Arilen could think about was the fact that he couldn't possibly get around the stallion without stepping out into the cold and the wet. And he wasn't really a stallion who liked to get his hooves wet at the best of times.
"Hey," Arilen breathed, struggling to catch himself. "Can I get by?"
