Cuckolded by Her Mother Ch. 13

But he didn't release the breath. His cheeks puffed out, round and full with air, and his eyes bulged, seeming as if they were just about to pop clean out of his skull - in a cartoonish fashion rather than a gory one. His chest shook with the effort of holding the breath. Pulling her head back, Fyr gave him a strange look and laughed. The sound seemed foreign to her ears, but it was the kind of laugh that hadn't made it past her lips in a long time.

It was good to laugh like that again.

"What on earth are you doing?" She exclaimed, giggles rising rapidly as she stared at the stoat with his cheeks puffed out like a fish. "Are you trying to inflate yourself?"

No, of course, he wasn't trying to inflate himself, but that only made her laugh all the harder, tears rolling down her cheeks from joy instead of frustration. He let out his breath with a gasp, bending forward to put his paws on his knees, and bobbed his muzzle at Fyr, tail slapping the back of his thigh softly.

"It always made my sister stop crying, ma'am," the stoat said, smiling as his chest heaved for lost breath, restoring the regularity in his system. "I'm glad it worked for you too."

"You know, you can stop calling me 'ma'am', right? It's not really necessary."

The stoat smiled and stepped forward, eyes lighting up warmly, a flicker of gold deep inside. Her heart did that silly thing where it flipped over, seeming to both skip a beat and pound all the harder both at the same time.

"And what name should I be calling you by...ma'am?"

"Fyr. My name is Fyr."

He stuck out his paw.

"Scott. And so we now know each other, Miss Fyr."

She laughed without thinking, taking his paw and shaking it. He had a nice, firm grip that brought a stronger smile to her lips, the dragoness rubbing the back of her free paw across her eyes as she tried to compose herself to something akin to her usual demeanour.

"Just Fyr will be fine. Though I do respect your politeness." Her lips twitched. "It's refreshing. Not something I'm used to these days."

Tilting her head, she looked him up and down, dressed in the similar kind of work clothes that she'd seen on him many times over.

"What are you doing down here on a Sunday though? I thought I just had you guys hired Monday to Friday to finish up the last bits? Don't you have a family to go home to?"

Scott shook his head.

"My family's away at the moment, but that'll just be my father and mother. I'm looking after them for a time as my father's had surgery. This job is just to make ends meet in the meantime, just until he's back on his paws and doing what he loves again." The stoat smiled, though his face was already lit up with warmth. "He loves his job. He's a landscaper. Killing him, it is, to be away from it."

"So no wife for you then?"

"No, no wife. So, when they asked if I could get some of the finishing touches done up today, just on the exterior, I thought the extra cash would come in mighty useful like. Not like I've got anywhere else to be on this particular day where I can't be any other day."

She started, looking at him as if for the first time.

"You really go above and beyond the call of duty - and for a job that you admit is just a halfway step to where you really want to be."

The stoat blushed and scuffed the toe of his boot through the dust.

"Well, you could say so, ma'am, but I'm just doing my job for the cash. But any job I do, I do it well, so I hope you'll be pleased with the ranch house you end up with here, truly, I do."

Fyr smiled and scooted up on the bale of straw; it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

"If you are here on additional duties, the least I can do is ask you to sit with me and perhaps see if there are any biscuits left." She patted the straw bale invitingly, the flake rustling softly. "Scratchy, but I promise it doesn't bite."

Chuckling, he quickly seated himself beside her, stretching out with his legs flung out before him and one ankle crossed over the other, the very picture of comfort.

"Sometimes a little bite is fun too..."

She giggled and clapped her paw over her muzzle.

"Oh, you shouldn't talk to a lady like that!" She admonished him, although the twinkle in her eye told a different tale. "That's such terrible manners!"

They laughed and Fyr eyed him side-on, taking in his profile.

Scott... That's a nice name. A very nice name. And he's cute too. She winced at herself. Just when had she last called someone, anyone, cute? And he's kind. He rather reminds me of someone. Someone pretty special.

"Are you down here on your own today, ma'am... I mean, Fyr?"

"Yes, just me." She nodded. "Quiet one this time, not really any work that needs to be done. I just needed to think."

He nodded sagely.

"I can sure see that. And is your mother spending time with her husband today?" He probed curiously, nothing but innocent in his eyes. "He is a cougar, right? That big cat?"

Fyr winced.

"Well, um..."

How much could she tell him? He had the kind of face that made her want to spill the beans, tell him everything, but everything would have been far, far too much. But he made her want to say something with how imploringly he looked at her, like every fibre of his being simply wanted to help her and, if not, enjoy the presence of her and simplicity of her company.

"I... Well, he's my husband," Fyr said awkwardly. "But he's quite close with my mom, you know?"

Oh, what a lame thing to say. She cringed just hearing the words come from her own lips, but there was little she could do. And yet Scott nodded as if he completely understood just what she was talking about, although that was impossible to anyone without knowing the intricacies and details of the situation at hand. Hell, Fyr was in the thick of it and even she wasn't sure she understood every last part of it!

"Oh, yes, I see now," he said politely. "It must be good to have a family like that."

"We share everything with one another. There's something different about our relationship that I can't really put to words, but it's nice to have her around."

It would have been nicer if her mother was not turning into a fully fledged demon, but the sentiment remained the same: she loved her mother dearly. Maybe even more than she had before the dragoness had been carrying her husband's egg.

"If your mother is pregnant though," Scott said slowly, rolling each word tediously around his mouth before forming it coherently. "Well, who is the father? Does she have another husband? I've only heard her talk to you about that cougar one, but it seemed like she really was his wife from how she talked about him."

Fyr shook her head, lips pursed. What could she say? Had she already said too much? Best to stay close to the truth, or at least as close to the truth as she could get with a stranger who was willing to listen.

"It's probably come off like that because Ropes, that's my husband, is, well, a little different to others." She hesitated. "You know that there are some very different furs in this world, don't you? There's not many of them around, but others tend not to like them very much."

Scott blinked at her, not understanding.

"No, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Demons. I mean, demons."

"Oh!" His expression cleared. "I know them. They look a bit weird, but I'm sure they're fine folks. You're right, we don't see them much, not many. Or maybe they just don't like being around us."

Fyr swallowed, a memory flashing across the forefront of her mind. Ropes walked down the street with her, arm in arm, after a night out and dinner. They hadn't done anything all that special, but it had been a night to remember for all the wrong reasons as Ropes trailed his tentacles over her shoulders and whispered in her ear. What he had been whispering, however, had been drowned out by the shouts and the group of young drakes who were out and spoiling for a fight.

"Beast!"

"Fucking freak!"

"Go back where you belong!"

"Stealing our dragonesses!"

"Furry trash!"

The last insult wasn't much of one - weren't all furries in their world suitable of being called such a name? - but Ropes had risen to the bait like a moth to the flame. He would have later said that he did what he did to protect her and that was surely part of it, she would not have denied it. But she never asked why he swung around with hellfire blazing at his heels - figuratively, of course - and threw all tentacles about, along with his fists, to scatter the miscreants like bowling pins.

Even if he hadn't been a demon, they wouldn't have stood a chance. Ropes was a devotee of street fighting, not claiming any particular style but enjoying the limberness and flexibility of his feline body and how it played into various martial arts. It had been something too, in the early days after he'd decided to make his home in the mortal world, that had sharpened his mind and kept his focus clear even when everything had grown more and more difficult with every passing day.

They'd gotten through that. Fyr hoped they could get through her mother turning into a demoness too, for the sake of both of them.

"Yes," she said at last, returning to reality as if surfacing from underwater. "They don't often like being around other furs. You're right. You're very right."

His paw curled around her shoulder, fingers digging in softly, comfortingly to the light round of muscle there.

"You know that from experience."

It wasn't a question.

Fyr sighed.

"So, yes, furries don't like demons. You can probably understand why, with all the myth and legends surrounding them. And my husband is one of those demons, hated by many and loved by some - only after they get to know him. Do you know how few try to get to know a demon?"

Scott's lips twisted in barely concealed sympathy. But the stoat seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve, his face showing every flash of thought that crossed his mind.

"That must be very difficult for you. And for him, but it kinda comes with the territory of being a demon, doesn't it?"

Fyr nodded.

"He knew what he was getting into."

"Then why did he choose to stay?"

She shuffled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's...complicated. There's a lot going on there. And it was before he met me, so don't go thinking I'm the reason that he decided to shed the coils of the demon world, though I'm told that it can be a wonderful place to be."

The stoat put his paws back behind his head and wrinkled his nose. It was way more adorable than it should have been.

"I doubt that, but I cannot say, ma'am, as I've never been there myself."

"It's Fyr, please," she said, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. "And you're very kind to listen to me, Scott. You're a special sort that we don't get around all that much these days, listening to an old dragon ramble on about demons and her husband and her mother."

Scott chuckled softly and leaned into her, leaving his shoulder resting against hers. Fyr swallowed, but there was suddenly not enough moisture in her mouth for even that motion, heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. Just what was the matter with her? She was acting like...

Oh no...

"Well, Scott," she said quickly, sitting up and putting some distance between them as she shuffled down the bale. "It's been real nice meeting you here, but I think I'd best be hurried on my way now and leave you to your work."

Good god, she was even copying his style of speaking, slipping back into a more familiar way all over again! Blushing hard, the dragoness stuttered and stammered, fighting for something, anything, that would get her out of a situation more akin to a schoolgirl with her first crush. She was long past those years! And the stoat knew she was married!

Yet how much of a marriage was it actually?

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if I intruded," he said, looking down, clearly crestfallen by her sudden desire to depart. "I only continued the conversation, because I thought that was what you wanted. I by no means wanted to step on any toes, ma'am... Fyr."

"Oh, no, Scott, you didn't step on any toes or make me feel uncomfortable. It was all me, really, I shouldn't have..."

But her words trailed off, the dragoness groaning and pressing a paw to her forehead.

"Can I just not get myself into situations for once in my life?"

Scott parted his lips to answer, but was cut off abruptly by the barn doors slamming open - both of them. They bounced off the walls behind them with an almighty crash that had Fyr and Scott near enough jumping out of their skin, hearts in their mouths and whipping around to see just who or what had caused the disturbance.

Fyr paled.

Oh no...

Not her. Not now. Not when she was with someone else - someone who had just been informed all about demons! And he hadn't even seen her as a demon yet, but he'd sure as hell seen her as a normal, blue-scaled dragoness!

Sasha stomped down the barn with all the anger of a younger dragon who had been scorned by the drake of her dreams, each step pounding down as if a barely disguised threat to break the concrete.

"Fyr!" She roared. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

She charged down the centre aisle, tattered wings flared, and stopped dead in her tracks as she rounded the corner at a pace. Coming face to face with her daughter and a startled stoat, she sucked in a breath that was half a shriek, wings snapping out sharply.

Scott let out a long, low whistle, taking in her ripped wings and flashing eyes, flickering between her normal irises and the glowing ones that spread across her whole eyeball, a demonic flare.

"Darn it, ma'am, you're looking a sight worse for wear there! Are you feeling okay?"

Oh, it was sweet how his first response was to ask if someone was okay, but that wasn't the sort of thing that Sasha would go for, not in a demonic state. The dragoness' eyes flared a brilliant green, shockingly emerald, and she hissed viciously, the sound weaving through the air like a threat that was yet to be spoken.

"Fyr," she growled. "There's something going on that you and I need to talk about."

"I know," she said, quietly and levelly. "That would be just why I left the house so you could cool down some, mom."

The word drew the older dragoness back, jaws opening and closing as her eyes flickered. Only Fyr knew her temper for what it was, the demon inside her wrestling for control. But it wouldn't be able to do anything with that control once it had it and the only way forward was for her to reconcile with her two selves, letting her mind grow at peace with what she now was.

For that to happen so quickly, however, would make it all a little too simple.

Sasha pressed her lips together, the anger in her eyes diminishing, just a little.

"Who is this?"

Fyr stood, holding her paws out as if that would be enough to placate her. The anger shouldn't take long to pass, as much as it came and went before a demon truly learned to control themselves. In some ways, the fury was more potent than their savage lust, although the lust was a side easier to control, at least when there were some of the general public around.

"Mom, you've met him before, but I don't know if you know his name," she said smoothly, keeping her voice as calm and impassive as she possibly could in the moment. "Scott. This is Scott. I came here to think after we, well, needed a bit of space from each other."

The stoat in question had, at some point, leapt up from the bale and backed away, though Fyr could not have blamed him. Hell, she thought herself rather idiotic for advancing on her seething mother, even if she knew in the back of her mind (or perhaps hoped) that there was no way on heaven or earth that her mother was actually going to hurt her. Just how bad were pregnancy hormones when they mixed with the changes a new demon had to be going through anyway?

Scott worked his mouth several times, ogling Sasha who rocked back on her heels, tail thrashing as if to whip an imaginary foe into rapid submission.

"Good gosh - she's a demon, she is!"

Sasha growled, turning on him with fire in his eyes.

"Don't call me that!"

"Ma'am, it's quite all right."

Scott stood, twisting his hat in his hands again, but it was hardly recognisable as a hat anymore, so squashed and bent was the fabric.

"Your daughter here and I, we've been having a talk about demons and the like, how folks been treating them. And, I gotta say, it's just not right what you folk go through."

He leaned forward a little, peering closely at Sasha as her eyes settled into a solid green glow with barely a flicker around the edges.

"It's a pretty colour that, what your eyes have gone. But you weren't always a demon, I know. I would have seen if your wings were like that. I got a careful eye on me, you know, and furs don't always realise I'm listening, but I am, I really am."

"Neither of us are trying to anger you, mom, but I'm going to need you to calm down," Fyr murmured, praising Scott and his ancestors to the will of any god that happened to be listening. "We were chatting, as he said. There's nothing bad happening and trust me when I say that you're going to feel a whole lot better when you calm down. Even a little will cool you off, I promise."

Sasha baulked.

"How did you know I was hot?"

Fyr smiled gently at her, holding out her paw: an offer of peace.

"Ropes always got hot when things flared up like this. But you'll get used to it."

She pushed her paw closer to her mother, wiggling her fingers as if that would encourage the dragoness who had raised her to take it. A daughter could only hope.

"It'll all come right, mom, trust me. But we can't turn back the clock and change what's happened."

Slowly, hesitantly, Sasha took her paw and Fyr pulled her in for a hug, the braver one of the two as her trembling mother rested her head on her shoulder. A tear dripped onto Fyr's back and she squeezed her mother closer, holding her tight against all the changes and the will of the world ebbing and flowing around her.

"It's gonna be alright, mom," she breathed. "I promise. We're going to make it all good again, you'll see."

Scott sniffed loudly, shuffling and scuffling as he reminded them of his presence overseeing their moment of rare intimacy.

"I dunno what the hay is going on here, but this is a mighty sweet mother-daughter moment!"

Fyr grinned. She might just keep Scott around a while with quips like that, the stoat blowing his nose on a rag he'd produced from his pocket.

But that wasn't the only reason she'd like to keep him around. Fyr blushed. There was something more to the stoat.

Something more that she'd rather like to discover.