Under the Tail and Other Stories
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 13
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Hello, everybody! This is Dragonpig. I'm going to be writing a collection of stories within the anthropomorphic, or furry, genre. Some will be short stories, some will be novel-length, and others will fall somewhere in between. Yes, some of these stories will be quite explicit, while others won't be. I'm going to keep this series going until I either get bored or find that people just aren't interested in it. I'd really enjoy hearing your opinions and thoughts on my writing. Have a good one!
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Consensual Romantic Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Fairy Tale Humor Vignettes War Zoophilia Science Fiction Aliens Alternate History Space Furry Sharing Incest Mother Son Brother Sister DomSub FemaleDom Light Bond Harem Polygamy/Polyamory White Male White Female Anal Sex Analingus Bestiality Exhibitionism Fisting Flatulence Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Safe Sex Squirting Water Sports Big Breasts Public Sex Nudism
One moment she was darting through alleys and jumping fences. Next she was pushing through an unlocked side door into candlelight and the smell of wax, into the middle of a midnight revival. Sixty-some people were on their feet with their hands raised, singing a hymn. Perfect. A crowd might slow him down.
She didn’t.
“Excuse me, folks. Sorry. Carry on,” she apologized, already halfway down the center aisle.
Heads turned. The singing paused. She noticed the confused looks on some of their faces.
She was almost to the back doors when the murmuring started.
“Is that the lady on the TV show?”
“Yeah, I think her name is Michelle.”
“Why, I never. The things women do just to get a man. So what if he’s very good at what he does?”
She didn’t need to look back to know he’d just walked in.
What she didn’t expect was what happened next.
“Oh my word,” someone cried out.
“Is that...”
“That’s him. That’s the Booty Hunter.”
She glanced back despite herself, grinning. A row of deer women near the front, silver-furred, dressed for church, and years past their heydays, had stopped singing entirely. They sat up straighter, patted their hair and antlers, and watched the sexy bastard stroll between the pews like he was the Second Coming of Icsski.
“Ma’am, I really am working right now,” he said, trying to sidestep a tall redhead.
“Call me.”
The woman tore a piece of paper from her hymn book, quickly scribbled something on it, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it at his back. Without looking, he caught it, and that was all they needed because two feline women stood up as if someone had rung the dinner bell.
She snickered.
At the pulpit, the well-dressed bear man had gone completely still, both hands flat on the lectern as he watched his sanctuary come apart: her sprinting down the aisle, the hunter fielding phone numbers from members of his congregation, and the entire service dissolving into something closer to a red carpet event than a revival. His face showed nothing but shock and confusion at the women’s behavior. He looked like a man who had chosen the wrong profession.
“We will be discussing decorum,” he said loudly into the microphone. “Next week.”
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