Under the Tail and Other Stories
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 16
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 16 - 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
She moved carefully in the narrow galley, long green hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. At twenty-six she knew how to work the tight space without bumping the metal carts or the overhead bins. Across from her, Miguel adjusted the bottles on the first-class tray with quick, precise hands. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his uniform pressed sharp, and the small gold stud in his left ear caught the cabin light every time he turned.
“Can you believe it?” she said, keeping her voice low. “The contestant for Booty Hunter is on our plane.”
Her best friend’s eyes went wide. He pressed a hand to his chest in mock drama. “Girl, I still can’t believe she’s doing it. Ten hours in the air. By the time we land she’s only got to stay free a little longer. Smart plan.”
She lined up the glasses. “Yeah. I wonder if it’ll work.”
“What else is the Hunter supposed to do?” Miguel asked. “He’s good, but we’re on a plane headed to a whole different country. Even if he somehow found out, what’s he going to do about it up here?”
She shrugged, checking the seal on a bottle of red. “I don’t know. He’s persistent.”
“He is, sweetie. He really is.” Miguel gave the tray a final once-over, then tipped his head toward the curtain. “Go on and serve these. I’ve got coach.”
She pushed the cart out into the first-class cabin. The soft vibration of the antigravity engines hummed beneath her slippers. Most passengers were already settled with blankets or watching movies. She moved down the aisle with practiced ease, offering drinks in a warm, professional tone. When she reached the window seat near the middle, she slowed.
The contestant was there, seat reclined, eyes closed. Even in sleep she looked ready. Long black hair spilled over one shoulder. Her breathing was steady.
She touched the woman’s arm lightly. “Excuse me. Would you like something to drink?”
Golden eyes snapped open. The woman blinked once, then offered a small, apologetic smile. “Oh. Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
“No problem. Can I get you anything?”
The contestant glanced at the tray. “Yes, I would like some wine, please.”
“Sure.” She poured a careful measure of the red into a glass and handed it over. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
She lingered half a second longer than necessary, then continued down the aisle. As she moved she caught herself hoping the woman would make it. If she stayed free until the end she would be only the second person ever to beat the Booty Hunter and claim the title. That would be something to see. And if she didn’t, well, losing to him could be fun too.
She smiled to herself and kept walking, the cart floating smoothly in front of her.
Michelle stepped into the hotel room and let the door slide shut behind her. The air smelled fresh, like clean linen and flowers. Twenty stories up, the city lights glittered beyond the sealed windows. She was tired, the kind of deep ache that settled into her muscles after days of running, climbing, and staying one step ahead. Still, a smug little smile tugged at her full lips. One hour left. That was all. She had already won.
She stood in the middle of the suite and looked around. King-sized mattress, soft carpet, a bathroom with a deep tub. Perfect. She ordered room service on the tablet by the phone, then stripped and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. Water cascaded over her shoulders and down her back as she washed the last of the hunt from her skin. Steam filled the enclosure. Her thoughts drifted. A little over thirty minutes now. The bracelet on her wrist. A reminder of her potential victory. She was going to be the second person ever to beat him.
A knock sounded at the hotel door.
She froze, then shut off the water. As she stepped out, she dried quickly and pulled on the plush red and black robe. Barefoot, hair still damp, she crossed the room. Her stomach growled. Room service. Right on time.
She opened the door with a small smile already forming.
He stood there, tall and dark, pushing a covered cart. The featureless mask tilted down toward her.
“Room service.”
Her eyes widened. She glanced past him toward the hallway, then toward the sealed windows.
“We’re about twenty stories up,” he said, voice calm. “Windows are enforced. You’re good. But are you really that good?”
Claws slid from the tips of her fingers and toes. Mid-shift, she stared at him, pulse increasing.
She could hear the smugness in his voice.
Sexy bastard.
“So you want to fight? Or would you like to eat?” He tapped the covered tray.