Under the Tail and Other Stories
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 18: Baby on Board
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 18: Baby on Board - 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 Teacher/Student Nudism
The screen door slammed like a gunshot.
“That’s right, keep driving, you no-good piece of shit!” she shouted after the truck. Cigarette pinched between red-painted nails. Bare feet planted on the wooden porch, shapely ass barely covered by her cutoffs, tank top stretched tight over the five-month curve of her pregnancy and huge breasts. Her tail lashed in irritation. “Go drink up every last goddamn credit, you lazy bastard. Don’t you worry about me or this baby. I’ll just sit here in this fucking park and wait like always!”
The taillights disappeared around the corner. She took a long drag, blew the smoke out through her nose, and muttered, “Men,” before stomping back into her home.
Inside, the window unit rattled and dripped. Harold was on the couch in karate pants and a Spider-squirrel shirt, eyes on the Booty Hunter show. A half-full ashtray and an open can of Pat’s Red Ribbon sat on the coffee table in front of him.
She dropped onto the cushion beside him hard enough to make the whole frame creak. Her bushy squirrel tail draped along the cushion, still half-fluffed from her anger.
“I swear men ain’t worth a damn,” she said. “I should’ve stayed with women.”
Her brother didn’t look away from the TV. Just gave a small shrug. “Probably.”
“He can come home smelling of that bar and thinking he’s getting some pussy. He ain’t. Not tonight. Not till he remembers what a job looks like, the worthless son of a bitch.”
Harold glanced over. “You could leave.”
She snorted. “With what? Five months pregnant, trailer in his name. Where am I going?”
“Just saying.”
“Yeah, well don’t.” She reached over, stole a sip of his beer, and set it back. “You help a lot around here. I appreciate that.”
He just shrugged. After a minute his arm settled along the back of the couch. His fingers found the base of her left ear and scratched in slow, knowing circles. Her ear flicked. At the same time her tail draped across his thigh.
She leaned closer into him.
This was the intimacy she never got from her husband. Harold already knew every part of her. He’d been her first when they were teenagers, the first one to make her squirt, the first one she’d ever let near her butthole.
His hand slid from her ear down the back of her neck, then lower, closing around the base of her tail and giving it a squeeze. She felt the familiar heat roll straight between her legs.
“You in the mood or still mad?” he asked, voice low.
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