Under the Tail and Other Stories
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 20: Candy Apple and a Gun
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 20: Candy Apple and a Gun - 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
Colpé slid into the booth beside him instead of across, the way she did now, and reached over to grab a piece of his food.
“You’re going to the festival with me,” she said, chewing.
Edgar looked up from his plate. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“It’s this weekend. You didn’t even know that, did you?” It wasn’t really a question. She picked at the hem of his sleeve, rubbing the fabric between two furry fingers the way she’d done a hundred times before, testing the weave like it might have changed since yesterday. “You’ve been here three months, and it’s time for you to do more than come here to eat and go back to your home.”
“I do more than those things. I have a life, little Miss Pandoreon. I go to work. I have a whole life, Colpé.”
“You have a routine, human.” She said it matter-of-factly. “Restaurant, house, work, restaurant. That’s not a life.”
He huffed something that was almost a laugh and went back to his food. She let him have a few bites before she reached over again. She remembered, early on, how strange it had been for her the first time, sharing food with a person from another planet, that this was just what her people did with someone they liked.
“My mom says it’s fine,” she went on, mouth half full. “I already told her you’re taking me.”
“You told her before you asked me.”
“Because I already knew what you were going to say.” She reached for his cuff again, turning it over to look at the stitching along the seam, the little line of thread that ran the whole length of his sleeve like something drawn on with a ruler. She still didn’t understand how humans decided which parts of themselves to cover and which to leave; it seemed to change randomly. It was just a thing he did. A thing they all did. She found it endlessly, quietly interesting, because her people only wore coverings when there was a reason for it.
“And what if I didn’t want to go?”
“You like me, you’re going.” She pitched her voice low, doing her best impression of him, which made her sound less like Edgar and more like her uncle after a long day. “I just want to eat food and watch HoloVision. I’m tired.”
He just smiled. That was answer enough.
“See.” She sat back, satisfied, letting go of his sleeve only to reach for another bite off his plate. “You’re not even going to pretend I’m wrong.”
“I didn’t say you were wrong. I said I don’t need to go.”
“Nobody needs to go to a festival, Edgar. That’s not the point of a festival.” She knew about all types of aliens, but he was the first human she’d ever personally met. He’d been coming into her parents’ restaurant for the last three months, and she found the pieces of cloth he wore on his body, what he called clothing, and his mannerisms fascinating, because she’d decided, somewhere around week two, that this was a person worth keeping. “The point is there’s food, and lights, and everyone in town is going to be there, and you are going to take me.”
“You decided.”
“I decided.” She picked at his collar now, smoothing it flat where it had folded wrong. “I’m not being bossy.”
“You are extremely being bossy.”
“I’m not bossy, I’m right. There’s a difference.” She grabbed one more bite. “If I don’t push you, you’re just going to stay in your little house and come here to eat and go home again, forever, and that’s ... that’s not...”
She was interrupted by her mother calling out to her to help with an order. “So, pick me up at eight o’clock.”
“Eight o’clock,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied, and slid out from the booth to help her mother with a customer.
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