Fate of the Little Ones


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.


Fate of the Little Ones

Snow suffocated the city, the worst winter any of its inhabitants had seen in their lifetimes. Icicles as large as a blacksmith’s arm hung precariously from rooftops and ledges, threatening the lives of anyone that dared walk beneath. Few dared. The cloud cover showed no sign of dispersing and snowflakes, beautiful while solitary, stung the eyes of any fur brave enough to venture out in such weather, caught in vicious blusters. Life could not stop, however, and traders lined the streets, blowing into frozen paws and calling out their wares in shaky, wavering voices. If they did not sell, they did not eat. The majority were from outside the city and not under its protection, far from living the life of luxury of some and holding no high positions in the world.

The ladies of the city bundled up in furs and fine fabrics when forced to venture outdoors. Otherwise, they sent slaves out to do their bidding in whatever clothing they deemed appropriate. Some owners were kinder than others, treating their slaves to thicker, if inexpensive clothing; even blankets could be used if winter slave attire was scarce in their household and it was required for the wellbeing of the slave. The highborn aimed to provide where they could, for their own benefit, of course. If a slave had particular skills, useful skills, he was valuable to them. It should not be wasted. The everyday slaves were disposable and replaceable, however, and treated with less care. Some shivered under rags, others bearing finery intended to please the eye and not the wearer. Some were in physical chastity, if left intact. One shaggy brown ox had been sent out without a scrap of clothing, sensing only an edge of cold through this thick fur and hide. He was one of the luckier ones.

The largest temple in the city, dedicated to their goddess of fertility and breeding, had the courtyard cleared of snow. Where the breeding slaves, renowned for their temperament and virility, were too fragile for hard work in such weather, a plethora of labourers were kept in stock to ensure the temple itself was clear and well cared for. Some were called to be ‘attending’ – attending slaves.

They tucked the breeders away in the depths of the temple, which boasted an indoor stable perhaps more suitable for animals than slaves if viewed by an outsider. Yet it was all they knew and they were fortunate with their lot in life. They were some of the most highly valued, allowed to remain intact for their purpose in life. It was the best they could hope for. Each stable was furnished with a single bed (lifted off the ground), a water dispenser at chest height and a selection of bowls from which they may be fed, kept sparkling clean at all times. They had no personal belongings. If not for the beds, the stables could have been for horses.

In a corner stall, coveted by the males for marginally greater privacy, Salun sat cross-legged on a thin rug, meditating. The slaves murmured and chirped to one another, each one a different species. A temple strove for diversity wherever possible and it would take an exceptional breeder to prompt the temple overseer to consider adding another of the same species to her breeding pool. The blue jay furrowed his brow, looking to sink into a deep meditation that would stave off the chill nipping at his feathers, falling into another world. They would have warmer blankets that evening. Until then, he must endure.

The slaves chattered softly.

“Hush,” Salun murmured, not breaking his pose. “We must be quiet.”

“You think that matters?” A stallion, dun with a black dorsal strike and spiky mane, snorted.

The stallion – Fjord as far as his breeding stated – brushed a paw through his white mane, tipped with black, and leaned upon his half-door, fingers tapping a restless tune. The doors were not padlocked, only secured with a top bolt on the exterior. A slave had never escaped.

“I know it has been some time since you have been taken out, Nico.” Salun referred to the horse by his nickname – he did not know his true name. “You must find peace. They will be displeased if they hear us chittering like hens.”

Nico tossed his head and rolled his eyes. Why should he listen to a little bird? He was better than him. Better bred, better used, better placed.

“Then why do you speak?” He challenged, a cocky glint to his eye.

“Why do you not leave?”

Throughout the exchange, the avian never once shifted from his cross-legged position, hand-claws resting upon his thighs. He would hate to have to set himself up for meditation right from the beginning after all his preparation. And it took some preparation. He started with making his bed, ensuring xslot every corner of the blanket was neatly tucked under the straw stuffed mattress. Next, he ordered his food bowls by size and colour along the back wall, checking each one for imperfections; those would be mentally catalogued. The drinking vessel was to be topped up at the dispenser, of course, and a drink taken to moisten his beak. He stretched then, maintaining the flexibility of his body for breeding and teasing out every muscle. That was the beginning of it, his daily show. Routine was solace.

Nico quieted down, finding his tongue tied with no suitable answer for Salun. Smiling, the blue jay sank into his private world, leaving the rest of his fellow slaves behind. He was not close to any of them, so it was easy to drift off. In his mind, he imagined a field of thick grass at the height of summer, warmth slipping off his feathers like water off a duck’s back. He luxuriated in it, lay sprawled and stared up at the blue, blue sky for what must have been hours on end. Time had no meaning in meditation. It was an escape, at least in the beginning.

He came to an opening in the ground, a tunnel that went deeper than he could ever dream of while awake. To have a cave opening in the middle of a field was impossible, but life did not need to be probable in his mind. It was his to control exactly as he wished. He padded into the yawning cave mouth, claws tap-tapping against the pleasantly cool stone. Natural lights that he did not know the name of lined the walls and ceiling, illuminating the darkness so he could progress into a blue glow. Deeper, he travelled, searching for something that was yet to reveal itself. In the waking world, the avian parted his beak ever so slightly, concentration shimmering through.

Would he discover who awaited him this time? He knew someone waited, calling to him, their voice echoed mournfully. His feathers bristled, catching the attention of the ever-curious red fox in the next stable over. Just what was that silly blue jay up to this time?


The soft voice needed no additional volume to command their attention. Every slave in the sizeable stable scrambled to their doors: heads lowered, eyes down, paws crossed behind their backs. Salun took a second to snap out of meditation, leaping to the door and shuffling into position with less grace than he usually displayed. For a brief moment, his eye twitched, feathers ruffled. Did she have to disrupt him? He hung his head, laying his beak upon his chest in shame. The overseer had not meant to disturb him. He doubted she even knew of his frequent meditations.

The equine overseer of the temple paced each row of stables, bare hooves clip-clopping on the fine, worn stone. Amethyst cast her eyes over every slave in turn, taking in their current state and making notes on the scroll she held in one paw. They never knew what she wrote but she was always writing, quill scratching away at the parchment. While any fur could see into the stables, every slave could see out of the stables. Each row held seven stalls on each side, each stall backing on to another in the next row, open for viewing through wooden slats. It afforded maximum observance for the inhabitants and an incredible disregard to privacy.

Amethyst paused at the stall of a slave with his arm in a sling. The lumbering bull had a sad tilt to his head and bandages covered his wrist where his paw should have been. The mare unbolted the door and lifted his bandaged arm away from his dark brown coat, fingers brushing the covered stump. The bull tensed yet made no move to pull back, enduring the discomfort admirably. The muscles could have been stiff from lack of use – no one would ever know what went on in the secretive male’s mind unless explicitly questioned. And no one truly bothered to do that out of mere curiosity, to enquire as to why a slave was stiff and slow or not. They had to be on top of their game at all times. The mare noted with a flicker of satisfaction that the remainder of the scars on his body were healing well. He would not be the most beautiful breeder but he had proven his strength and durability time and time again. Those genes would be passed on to the offspring of the lady who chose him to mate with.

“Is your forearm healing?” Amethyst asked.

She exerted light pressure to test his reaction. When he did not flinch – his ears only drooped – she nodded, satisfied that no pain was present from her clinical examination.

“It is sore, Overseer,” the bull answered quietly, voice low and rasping. “The end…the stump…it itches, Overseer.”

Muscles bulged awkwardly: he was not a standard fit for breeding stock but Overseer Amethyst found worth in him. A missing paw did not render him incapable of breeding, of course.

Amethyst nodded, brushing the feathered end of the quill against her cheek.

“We shall have the healers examine you in the morrow,” she said, making a note on the scroll. “Likely a simple healing xslot Giriş itch. Nothing to concern you, if distracting. We do not want that, however. You are scheduled to be used next week.”

“Yes, Overseer,” he replied, eyes on the horizontal slat of the stable door.

With his examination complete, Amethyst bolted the door and moved on, distanced in how she treated her charges. The blue jay’s mind wandered back to his cave, aching to delve deeper into his own psyche. It was the only time alone he felt he had and, although he was dedicated to his position, it made him anxious to be so interrupted.

Amethyst murmured to the finely spotted leopard in the stall behind Salun’s and rounded the corner, watching him through the wooden bars. It was not a cage as such but a visual reminder of the distance between their positions. Relaxed, Salun stood to attention, quietly confident that she would find nothing amiss in his status or stable. He took good care of both.

“As for you,” Amethyst paused at Salun’s door, scroll and quill raised as if she was about to make a note. “I have a task for you, little bird. Are you rested?”

“Overseer?” Salun cocked his head, misunderstanding.

“A task, slave,” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Have you rested adequately enough to give yourself wholly to additional duties today? I shall not have a half-enthused slave on my paws. Your meditation was interrupted.”

So, she had noticed. When had she been watching? It could have been at any point, from a distance. He shivered at the thought of her observing him in the midst of such a personal, intimate task. It was worse than being watched defecating.

“I am ready to serve, Overseer,” Salun answered, bowing his head respectfully.

His mind would have filled in the blanks, asked what she wished of him, but his training went too deeply for him to vocalise any questions that were not deemed entirely necessary. Amethyst flicked her tail, chestnut strands catching the hem of her white dress.

“Await me by the entrance,” Amethyst said, already moving on. “I shall come for you.”


Salun did not know what to expect, being removed from the pens for anything other than a breeding session. Attending Amethyst in her private chambers had not been one of the possibilities considered. She had him bathe her in a sunken pool, heated by an underground hot spring. It must have been one of the few warm points in the city besides the public baths and Salun took pleasure in feeling warm, fluffing up his feathers whenever he was sure he could evade attention. He would not like to be seen enjoying himself, lest he attract less than wholesome consequences. The bathing chamber was moderately sized, stone lined with shelves containing bundles of fabric – cloths – and colourful glass bottles of various sizes and shapes. They must have held lotions, creams and bathing solutions, but Salun had never had access to the like of them for personal use: males never did.

Rubbing a foaming cloth over Amethyst’s chestnut shoulders, his eyes roamed her body – at least what was visible. Both muscular shoulders rounded up from the water, collarbones rising sharply to a point. The mare was in the peak of health, hair conditioned and gleaming with vitality. Beneath the water was a chestnut, shifting blur and he could just about depict her long, shapely legs, where they met her torso and the sex that every breeder in the temple had seen and never touched. The overseer took partners selectively, bringing in males from outside the temple for her pleasure when so desired. Salun sighed. It was not as if he would have wanted to please her anyway. It would have only felt nice to be special for once.

“You have a question in your eyes, little one,” Amethyst commented, bringing her arm back to rest outside the pool.

His tail twitched. He did not have permission to speak.

“You are wondering why I brought you here.” Amethyst spoke for him, relaxing back so that only her muzzle and part of her neck protruded from the scented, steaming water. “You know you are a coveted breeding specimen within my temple.”

Well, that did not explain anything. Salun shook himself, concentrating on the task at hand. They were almost finished and he lifted a clay pot full of lukewarm water to rinse the oil and lotions from her body, tipping it gently over each shoulder, as directed, and then her head, careful to avoid her eyes and ears. She swept her sodden, rinsed forelock back from her face and rose to her hooves, finding purchase and allowing the blue jay to pour clean water over the remainder of her body. The pool reached above her knees, allowing the avian to rinse her tail.

“The snows prevent most from visiting my temple,” she continued, not minding that he was to stay silent while rinsing her; it allowed her to talk freely, without interruption. “It means that the little ones I call, ones suited and skilled in sexual liaisons, are no longer able to visit me xslot Güncel Giriş at this time. These are not breeders, but ones trained in specific pleasure. Many have become attuned to my particular desires.”

She paused, a wistful look in her eye while Salun waited on her to continue.

“I would say that some even come to my chambers willingly now, knowing what is in store.”

She could have given him permission to speak at any time, but the mare preferred the little ones to be quiet. Salun could be a good partner in conversation when so desired, yet she coveted how she could switch his talking on and off with a flick of her paw or a single command. Mulling over her words, the avian cocked his head contemplatively. He was not slow like some of the other lower beings.

“Fetch the drying cloths, blue jay.”

She rose and stepped out of the pool, dripping glistening droplets of water until Salun wrapped her in the largest of the cloths, soaking moisture from her coat and warming her from the chamber’s chill. Clutching a second cloth, he worked it through her mane and tail in turn, separating the glossy strands of hair so that they could dry more swiftly without being roughed up by his inexperienced touch.

“Go into my sleeping quarters,” Amethyst instructed, turning her attention to the shelves to collect two bottles of coat conditioner. “You will find a wooden chest at the foot of my bed. Select four cuffs and fasten them on your wrists and ankles. Await me in position.”

Nodding his muzzle quickly, Salun darted from the bathing chamber, nerves nipping at his heels. It did not take one of vast intelligence to understand what was happening, or at least the basics of her intentions, her desires. Fear stirred in his belly yet the thought of disobeying did not cross his mind even for a second. It did not matter that he was scared. She would do as she willed with him and send him back to the stables afterwards and there was nothing he could do about it. It did not matter whether he enjoyed or not.

The cuffs were exactly where Amethyst had said and he slipped all four lengths of black leather around his wrists and ankles, tightening and buckling them in turn. The leather was reassuring around his limbs and he knelt on the woven rug beside the mare’s bed, thinking it a suitable, exposed location for her to discover him. He would not be in her way. Spreading his knees apart, the blue jay rested his hand-claws, palms facing up, on his thighs. Salun rocked forwards enough to raise his rump from his calves, presenting for inspection with his tail feathers lifted high.

Half-listening to Amethyst busying herself in the adjoining chamber, Salun took a moment to take in her chambers. Surely it was a place that none of the other breeding males had been before. Was he special? The blue jay clicked his beak, looking over the lavish bed, piled with thick blankets and a barred section at the head and foot. Salun was confident one would not feel any sharpness from winter beneath those blankets. Besides the chest at the foot of the bed, two more chests resided against the far wall, both with painted black metal fittings. A cupboard in the same exotic wood and fixtures stood along the largest wall, though he would never dare peek within. She would know: he was sure of it. Expensive fabric draped the walls, the cost of which he could not fathom and in colours he had never laid eyes on, shapes dancing before his eyes as if to depict a scene. The blue jay shivered, though not from cold. He could only imagine what would happen soon.

He heard the mare stride into the room behind him, though he had positioned himself so that his back faced her, only able to view the smallest flicker of chestnut from the corner of his eyes. Being an avian, his eyes did not face directly forward and he found the wider range of vision useful; he could not imagine anything else or being so limited in sight as some furs were with forward facing vision. The inner musing comforted him, stilling the nervous shaking of his feathers. Straightening, Salun held himself tautly, tail flicking up as he was trained to do. He had been told, an admittedly long time ago, that it was something that breeding partners liked to see.

Amethyst sighed.

“You shall have to suffice.”

Walking into the bird’s line of sight, Amethyst looked him over critically, any approval silent. It was not something that he needed to hear. The naked overseer circled Salun once, twice, three times, shifting him into a more formal, exposing position with the subtlest of paw gestures as if he was undergoing a standard inspection.

Amethyst sprawled across the bed, slipping back into its embrace as if into a fine silk robe. Lying there amongst the rich colours and cloth, she appeared the epitome of luxury. Awaiting instruction, Salun clicked his beak softly, remaining as still and as quiet as possible: it had always been expected. Why would this night be any different from any other breeding? Would the mare bare his offspring? He could not recall seeing her swollen with foal at any time previously. Yet he was not privy to that side of life and did not falsify knowledge. The blue jay dropped his head, a quiet exhalation ruffling his white chest feathers.

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