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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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 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!"
