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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Locker Room Quickie
Dripping with sweat, the caribou stomped into the locker room from the ice rink, groaning and rolling his shoulders back to shake loose settled in tension. Gym sessions coupled with ice hockey, on the same day, just didn't go together, not at all. Yet Aaron felt he could not leave either one by the wayside, even for the sake of his own body and comfort. Some said physical activity was an addiction of sorts. He called it living.
His familiar teammates, all kinds of furs with custom skates to fit hooves or paws, crowded around him, shuffling and bumping into one another in the cramped quarters of the changing room. Aaron grimaced, brown muzzle twisting as he blinked away a speck of dust from the corner of his eye, orb watering. He was glad that the team had grown over the last few months but couldn't help feeling a little sullen at the lack of space. Sometimes, if there was no one else at the rink - no other teams - they could use both locker rooms. Unfortunately, that particular night, it was not the case and they were all crowded into one.
The locker rooms were clean enough for general use, though Aaron could never find them at all pleasing with so many bodies hustled together, fur soaked down to the skin as they stripped themselves of sodden gear. He wrinkled his nose, soft, moist flesh too sensitive to odour, as his ears half-slipped down to his skull as if he wanted to hide from the clamour, cower into a corner. Aaron's heartbeat quickened and he fought to breathe as deeply and slowly as he could bear, antlers itching in an imaginary shed of velvet. Why were the changing rooms so full? He just had to put up with it. Pressing his knuckles into the socket of his eyes, he inhaled through his nostrils, eyes closed. It was worth it for the ice time. That was a better thought. He had to hold on to that.
The caribou's smile spread slowly as he drifted into a cleaner, crisper world, ears twitching to the remembered sound of blades cutting through ice, spraying up in a white flurry as he stopped on the edge of one blade. Yeah, skating was worth it. He could put up with the cramped changing rooms if it meant that he could keep skating. And playing hockey, of course.
Rubbing his antlers, Aaron clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shrugged out of his shoulder pads, dropping them on the growing pile of kit on the floor to his rear. Though he would not usually be so careless with his gear, it was going in the wash that night anyway, to be soaked in the bath for hours to get the stink out of the fabric. It seemed to be seeping into the fibre of it, however, and he had his doubts about how much longer he could stand to strap himself into the kit that only stank of old sweat without chemical intervention. He did it for the love of the game and that alone. His ears twitched, eyes wandering to the door through which cold air still seeped. How cool was it that his university had an ice hockey team? He certainly did not know of many that could boast the same.
Aaron cast a lion a half-smile as he squeezed past in the small space and grimaced as his shoulder rang with a twinge of pain, abruptly and rudely reminding him of his overall soreness. Such a pain. Had he really had to do shoulders at the gym earlier that day? Such a derp 'bou.
"You sore there, hm?"
Aaron swallowed, heart beating in a tiny flutter of nerves, though he did not alter his movements in the, carefully practiced at keeping his expression smooth and balanced. He glanced over at the larger polar bear changing beside him. His bulk should have been impossible to miss and yet he had once again managed to sneak up on Aaron without the caribou being any the wiser.
"Yeah...kinda..."
Aaron rolled his shoulders, though could not stop a grimace from twisting his lips. Tiernan, the polar bear, smirked, black lips quirking up evilly, and grabbed the caribou by the shoulders, pushing his fingers in to massage deeply. Despite the fact that the massage could have been pleasurable in a more private situation, Aaron scowled and rocked his shoulders from side to side as if to dislodge the bear.
"How does this feel?" He queried. "Any better?"
The caribou shook him off but the bear came back again, paws insistently digging between his shoulder blades. He shook the caribou with the force of his faux massage as he obnoxiously handled the smaller male, tugging his t-shirt to the side as if he was about to yank it back over his head when he had only just succeeded in re-clothing himself.
"Git off, you lump... For fuck's sake, Tier!"
Aaron shoved him, a paw slapping into the bear's shoulder to push him away a step. It was enough and the rest of the team crowded around, cat calling and giving them even less space in which to tussle, though that was hardly the point of the jibe. Laughing, Tiernan jostled him back until the team captain shouted across the changing room in a loud, booming voice.
"Cut it out! You think we have space in here for that?"
"Not enough room to swing a cat," a tiger confirmed with an expression that he had to fight with in order to keep solemn and stern, lips quirking at the corners for a fraction of a second. "Though I daresay not a soul here would try."
"We'd swing you by the tail..."
The team vibrated with laughter, the sound reverberating around the comparatively small room. Aaron resisted the urge to rub his ears, the ringing within terrible. But it wouldn't do to draw attention, he'd just look like he was being antisocial again. The caribou smiled fixedly and endured the throb of pain in his eardrums until the racket died down enough to be comfortable, though the world about him still spun dizzyingly. He half-closed his eyes and Tier cast him a sympathetic look, lightly bumping his shoulder: sorry, buck.
"All right, all right," the team captain, a chestnut stallion with a wonky white snip of a marking on his nose, yawned, blunt teeth flashing under the glaring lights. "We'd best bugger off out or Joe will be after us again, you know he doesn't like it when we hang around too late. Practice is late enough as it is."
