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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The dragon gulped, his mouth uncomfortably dry. The mission should have been an easy one, a mission only called such, because that's what they had always called the renewal of the peace treaty. Pyros had been proud when he, a freshly minted diplomat of the high-ranking draconian empire, was chosen to renew the treaty between the wilder equine tribes and the empire. Their ways of life couldn't have been more different with Pyros being a dragon well used to the finer side of life, easy transport and a society that held their personal grooming in high regard at all times.
The crimson beast perched on what seemed to be a tree stump, or at least a close imitation of such, was a far cry from the creature that flirted with money, a crisp, tailored suit hanging from his shoulders at all times. Of course, Pyros still wore his favourite suit, complete with the line of diamonds around the pressed collar, but it did not 'suit' the situation for the cocky dragon who had expected to sweep in with a flourish of his wings, have the treaty signed and be back in his penthouse apartment in time for dinner.
What he didn't know what just what the chieftains required of him in order to seal the deal and ensure the treaty extended...well, until it had to be signed once again. Their calendar was a side different to the draconian times that Pyros was used to, but it worked well enough.
The firelight flickered on the tents, only present as the more primitive -- depending on how one looked at it -- equine tribe clustered around, each chieftain of their lands sitting cross-legged on the bare ground. Long grass surrounded the tents, but the area where they'd been working and socialising had been cleared for this very event, beaten down by their worn, bare hooves. The tribe wore little clothing, but enough to cover their modesty and ensure their decency -- at least in Pyros' eyes -- as simple as it was. Only the chieftains wore elaborate headdresses that could have been reminiscent of another culture entirely, if not for the woven gemstones branching out from their skulls as if entirely of their own volition.
"So, Pyros said, breaking the quiet of the crackling flames. "Would you be so kind as to sign the scroll now? I have it right here with me," he said, as if it needed to be stated that he had indeed brought it with him."
A white equine with a bare torso rippling with muscle leaned forward and surveyed him closely. His hide was spotted with black dots of varying sizes and shapes and anyone who knew horses and their culture would have called him an Appaloosa.
Pyros had no such knowledge and merely blinked supremely at the horse as he pushed his shoulder blades back and sat up straighter, pushing out that muscled chest as if for attention.
"Little dragon, this is not how things work for our kind."
Pyros tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow quirked.
"Then how does it? What more may I provide to you so that we may renew our treaty and join in peace once again?"
The strapping Appaloosa stallion bellowed a laugh and slapped his thigh, headdress jiggling as his loincloth shifted. Discreetly, Pyros averted his eyes, though the bulge growing at the equine's crotch could hardly be denied. A part of him reeled in shock even as his curiosity rose, nudging at the back of his mind. But, no, he had to be professional, he had to be polite. It was why they had sent him above everyone else, after all. He was the best dragon for the job.
