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.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Cherlyn scoffed and leaned back in the limo, her arms crossed over her chest, long, brunette hair tied back in a tight ponytail, though it was difficult to wrangle all of it under slick control when it was as thick as it was. But, as always with the famous popstar, she had to always have everything under control. At least she had a good, natural tan going for her, her body an ideal hourglass shape with her lips accentuated so that they were a little fuller than usual, all down to her lipstick and plumper. Her fake eyelashes fluttered behind her sunglasses as she glanced down at her phone, one leg crossed over the other with a six-inch heel dangling in the air.

It was taking too long, as usual, but she was short-tempered, to say the least of it, but having Gossip magazine open on her lap didn’t help the matter. Photos of herself and Nathalie were splashed across the open page.

Nathalie out. Meet your new judge, America: British pop star CHERLYN!

She sighed, though it was a great opportunity, something to keep her interested, though there was a lot to distract her in life. Without looking at her phone, she tapped at the touch screen, holding it up in front of her as she made a call on speaker phone.

“Ugh, Connor…” She moaned, launching into the conversation before the person on the other end of the line had even had a chance to say anything. “It’s so stressful working with new people! What if they don’t have the sliced melon I like? The makeup team better be ready to shut up and listen to me too! I have very specific ways that I need to be presented!”

Of course, she knew what she liked and that was the end of it, the limo rolling smoothly down the road, Cherlyn groaning to her husband about her new role. Most people would have been thrilled about it, especially considering that she had pursued other avenues than an active music career in the end, but she could only see the problems, the obstacles in her way to shining. It was a good thing that Connor was a good listener, for he at least allowed her to get most of it off her chest before the limo pulled into the studio lot.

“Miss?” The driver caught her attention as Cherlyn hung up, lips twisting while her disapproval was mostly hidden behind her shades. “We’re here.”

“Great.”

There was too much derision in her tone, but she strutted into the studio, up the ramp and through the doors, with the pride that she always carried with her.

And there they were — Viviana and her team. Although Cherlyn didn’t know their names, only Viviana’s, as her makeup artist, Kobe was of Japanese descent and Seb was flamboyant, a fancy, small scarf knotted around his neck, though he seemed to have a sharp eye for makeup and design, if his personal presentation was anything to go by. He, however, was the photographer, the one who would take images of her for her shoots and advertising material, though Cherlyn didn’t really care as long as the day passed without much note.

“Everyone! Listen up!”

Cherlyn, however, didn’t really care for them. Viviana, a slim woman with short, sharp blonde hair cropped around her cheeks, smiled widely and clapped her hands for attention.

“This is, Cherry, she’s here to be the new presenter — how exciting!”

Before she could stop them, Kobe and Seb chorused a welcome to her, using the nickname that wasn’t really a nickname at all — it wasn’t even shorter than her name.

“No, my name’s Cherlyn,” she said primly, her sunglasses still in place. “Thank you.”

Her tone was so sharp and so clipped that she could have cut glass, but the others only smiled and nodded.

“Ok, Cherry.”

“No problem, Cherry!”

She frowned, about to say more, but there was not even a seat for her there in the makeup studio, a photography section set up with lights and a backboard across the room. How unprofessional was that? Unfortunately for Cherlyn, Viviana bustled in before Cherlyn could even say anything, holding her hands up and snapping for attention.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s make this a great day! First, I need to see what I’m working with… Lorel! Lafawna! I need you!”

Everything happened in a blur. Cherlyn would not have been able to stop the large women, dark-skinned of African American descent, from whisking her away, though she did gasp and protest, yanking her elbow out of the grip of the shorter woman’s hand. Her fingernails had dug in more like claws, though Cherlyn was certainly not one to talk, considering that her own fingernails were long and painted, even if that was likely going to have to change for the shoot.

“Hey! Watch your hands there! You can’t drag me about like this!”

“Oh, honey,” Lorel laughed, more than large and strong enough to pick up Cherlyn if ever needed. “You’ve got to get bathed! What do you think you’re here for?”

Nothing within her control: that was the answer. Yet Cherlyn did not know the truth of it, not as she was taken to a separate room — a large bathroom with a big tub set right in the centre of it. She smacked them away imperiously, telling them that she was quite clean enough for the test run and shoot, thank you very much, but Lorel and Lafawna appeared to be more than used to dealing with women like her.

“Get your hands off me!”

The words leapt from her lips before Cherlyn had a moment to register what they were doing to her, skilled, swift hands all over her, stripping her of her top, popping the buttons on the high-quality blouse. Nothing was ripped, but they handled her and her body as if she was nothing to them, as if it was all something they did daily.

“Stop that right now!”

She fought back, clawing at them, though Lafawna held her hands down and behind her back as Cherlyn screamed and thrashed, red in the face, her sunglasses hanging askew. Everything about her prim and proper appearance was already fading, as if she was becoming someone that she didn’t want to be.

They yanked her shirt Free, her bra on show. Although it was pretty and good quality, of course, that it was thick with padding was obvious, Cherlyn knocked back, eyes wide, wondering what they were all going to say. Of course, their laughter rang out around her, even as the women yanked Free her bra too, revealing her tiny breasts, which were not even A-cups, Cherlyn heaving, howling, straining and thrashing, all to cover herself up again.

“You bitches! Give me that back right now! You can’t do this to me — who the hell do you think you are?”

Yet her words did not come out with the bite that she wanted, heart pounding, blood rushing to her head. No, oh, no, it could not be happening, she couldn’t have her tits out like that! She even wore padded bikinis to the beach! No one had seen her like that but her husband — and she took great efforts to make sure the lights were off even then!

“If you don’t let me go, I… I…” She tried to find a threat, but she was on the back foot, eyes wide, bulging, fearing for all that they could see. “I’ll walk! I don’t have to be here — I’ll go! If you treat me like this — hey, let me go!”

Cherlyn howled and kicked upwards, though Lorel caught her boot neatly in one hand, sliding it off her foot and going to work for the other too, separating Cherlyn neatly from her footwear. But she could not ignore how Lorel squashed her body against hers, seeming to loom so high over her, her breasts rubbing against Cherlyn’s side even as the larger woman dragged her skinny jeans down and off her legs, revealing her flat, saggy buttocks, how her clothes had given her shape.

Of course, with her boots off, she dropped sharply from five feet four inches to four feet eleven inches, diminutive, tiny, as if she could not put up a fight with her flailing fists and struggling resolve. She had to stop them, had to do something, yet being bare in part before them was still something that Cherlyn could not push back against, not without a cold twist of fear gripping her heart.

Her socks were next to go, though Cherlyn thrashed and shrieked and ripped herself against Lafawna’s strong hands, but the woman had a grip like a vice! She smiled above Cherlyn, the woman quailing a little, though her fury and obvious humiliation at being treated like a child — worse than that — boiled over.

“I’m going to have your jobs for this! Just what the hell do you think you’re doing treating me like this! I’ll speak to your managers! I’ll have everything from you!”

Only when she was down to her underwear did they take her wedding band and engagement ring, complete with a sizeable diamond for her, though Cherlyn didn’t have a chance to say anything. They pressed in around her, ominous and foreboding, so very obviously saying without any words at all that they were in control.

“Oh, honey… What a nice rock! But your butt is too big for these jeans, what stylist dressed you?”

Cherlyn groaned, her real body revealed, something that the world and media would comment non-stop on, having more than a field day if anyone found out, let alone how tiny her tits were. Everyone expected her to have giant knockers, at least ones that fit her frame, but noooo, she was cursed with flat boobies, practically nothing at all there.

Lafawna grinned, pressing in, squashing Cherlyn’s face between her bosom and Lorel’s, pinning her in place between them.

“Yes, with tits like this, what did you think you were doing stuffing them into a tiny little bra like this? You need sizing!”

“I think you’ve put on a few pounds since your last shoot for Gossip magazine — didn’t you know that you should be keeping those off?”

“At least you’ve got pretty hair, we can work with that!”

Cherlyn growled and shoved at them, but they towered over her, contrasting her size, feeling so small, so diminutive, as if she didn’t matter at all, though they still had her underwear to get off. Neatly and efficiently, they pinged the back of her bra Free, releasing her breasts, and Cherlyn gasped, short on breath and words to push back against them, as red in the face as she was.

But that did not stop Lorel from squatting and sliding down her body, ensuring that she ground her breasts against every part of Cherlyn that she could along the way, taking her underwear with her. It was the final piece of clothing to be removed from Cherlyn’s body, though it was not as if she had had any choice in the matter, heaving and panting, her sunglasses flung on the floor somewhere, hair sticking damply to the back of her neck where she had sweated.

“Alright, honey! Into the tub you go! You’ll be all shining and glowing after a dip, don’t you worry!”

Lafawna and Lorel knew their jobs well, though Cherlyn tried to run, bare feet slapping the tiles. She’d barely even taken in the bathroom while her debasement had been playing out, though the steaming tub of water should have caught her attention sooner. Lafawna grabbed her around the waist and, demonstrating shocking strength even for a woman of her large size, hoofed Cherlyn into the tub without ceremony.

“Aaaaagggghhh!”

Cherlyn shrieked and gasped, boiling water searing her skin, though, thankfully, it was not enough to burn her. She howled and tried to clamber straight back out, hair clinging to her face, over her eyes, a rat’s nest of soaked strands, but Lorel shoved her straight back in, holding up a giant translucent white jug.

“Hang in there, sweetheart, we’ve got you!”

“Yeah, got to make sure you’re ready for the big shoot!”

They grinned madly, pouring what Cherlyn could only describe as a myriad of strong chemicals into the tub — far, far stronger than anything that she would have chosen to use on her skin. The Hot water burned enough as it was, though the strong chemicals blasted her skin, from a prickling tingle to an urgent throb and pulsating searing. Her body screamed at her to get out, sharp, acrid smells and more floral ones (however strong they were, perhaps undiluted) assaulting her nose, but every attempt was met with a hand in just the right place to shove her back into the water.

“Ahhhhh, no! No, let me out — do you know how sensitive my skin is? I can’t use that on my skin — get away from me!”

“Girl, you’ve got to be good for your washing, sit yourself down now.”

They grabbed her arms, scrubbing her down unceremoniously, the sponges rough — the kind that had not soaked up enough water to be called sponges. Like what Cherlyn was used to, however, they did not become soft and pliable but practically scraped up her already raw, abused skin with the scrubbing, Cherlyn bobbing up and down in the huge, oversized tug, screaming, trying not to swallow water.

“I’m going to have your jobs for this — you can’t treat me like this!”

Of course, her threats fell on ears that were not listening, for they already knew the scope of their jobs, even shoving her head under the water so that she had to thrash back to the surface again. Gasping and spluttering and trying to keep as much water out of her mouth as possible, Cherlyn scrambled against the slippery, wet edge of the tub, striving to drag herself out while her underarms and down her belly, even over her breasts, were harshly scrubbed.

Even between her legs was not safe, dumped headfirst back into the water with her legs kicking and splashing while they made sure they were clean too, red and raw with the chemicals and heat of the water. But the moment that Cherlyn came back to the surface, heaving for breath and lost for words, a huge dose of shampoo, more than an entire bottle, was dumped out on her hair, pouring slickly over her face, leaving her mouth gasping, a dark hole in the midst of it.

“Urrrrggghhhh — no! No, don’t you dare touch my hair — no! Didn’t you hear what I said?”

Of course, they ignored her, as they had been doing so far, scrubbing with both hands as if her hair was even thicker than it was, much longer too, but Cherlyn’s heart pounded.

A chunk of hair came away in Lafawna’s hands and the women stared at it, shocked, before Lorel and her laughed aloud. Hands returned to her hair, grabbing and tugging, searching for the extensions within that had given her lusciously dark hair its glow and volume, something that not even her husband knew about!

One extension after the other hit the floor with a wet slap of hair as Cherlyn found her breath and screeched, threatening them, their jobs, that they were hurting her. Of course, none of it had any effect.

“Ohhhh, so none of this was your real hair at all!” Lorel taunted her, dangling her extension in front of her face. “We’ll just have to get them all out then!”

“Don’t you dare! Let go of me, I’m not having any of this — I’m leaving now! Screw the show!”

But they didn’t care, ripping out hair extension after extension, keeping count the whole while with obvious glee. The pile of wet hair on the floor grew and grew, though Cherlyn didn’t think any of it was worth doing the show anymore, not honestly, even if she couldn’t get her damn self out of the bath again without their help.

Up to one-hundred-and-thirty-two extensions were ripped from her hair, reducing it down to a lank, wet, dripping mop atop her head. Her heart lurched, though the pain searing across her scalp accosted her more demandingly than anything else, swatting away Lorel as she, at least, tried to help Cherlyn sit up more, so that the water wasn’t sloshing around her chin as much as it was.

“Get off me!”

Lorel shrugged.

“Just trying to help you, honey. We’re only doing our jobs here.”

Maybe that was so, but it was not a job that Cherlyn had ever been subjected to. Yet another humiliation had been hiding in the wings as Lafawna poked at her head, lifting a sodden lock of hair.

“What are these…” She grinned, a white flash of teeth stretching her lips wide in a smile that promised trouble for Cherlyn. “Ohhhh, where have you been hiding these ears? They’re so big! Lorel, have you ever seen ears as big as this?”

Cherlyn’s cheeks heated up, though she couldn’t drag her thicker hair down over her ears anymore, the ears that were her biggest shame. She’d been mocked for them far, far too much in her childhood, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment of simply having them carrying on over into adulthood, wanting to sink away into the Hot water, if only to have somewhere to hide. Humiliation like that, the searing, pounding heat of it, didn’t have any place in her Adult life — yet there it was anyway, two grown Adult women making fun of how big her ears round, sticking out comically from the sides of her head.

They cackled, poking at them, though Cherlyn found herself again, beating their hands away. Yet, no matter what she did, she just didn’t seem to be quick enough for them.

“Get away from me! You’ve seen ears before, haven’t you? Have some respect!”

But they didn’t, most certainly not as Lafawna grabbed her ear and pinched it sharply, ignoring Cherlyn’s shriek.

“Oh, never ears like this! And you haven’t even been cleaning them out — you should know what that can do to your hearing!”

Lorel nodding, leaning in close, dominating and looming over her, inspecting Cherlyn’s other ear, flanking her on either side of the tub. There was nowhere for Cherlyn to go, not as her eyes darted frantically from one side to the other.

“Girl, you’ve got to clean out your ears properly,” Lorel admonished her. “Don’t you know anything about proper hygiene?”

They scolded her as if she was a child who had forgotten the bare basics of cleaning her body, Cherlyn’s cheeks burning as they dug huge cotton swabs into her ears. The twisting spiral of them could have been a comforting feeling if she was home taking care of her own needs, yet it was nothing like that, not as the huge swabs were dug ridiculously deep. It should have been deep enough to hurt her, but all it did was make her eyes bulge ridiculously, almost as if they were about to pop out of her skull.

“Owwww! Too deep! Fuck! You’re hurting me — owwww!”

They ignored her wails, tossing the cotton swabs aside instead of luffas: big, rough pole-like scrubbing implements that were often used for exfoliation on tougher parts of the body or cleansing the back, hence the long shape of them. Although Cherlyn thought that she had already been scrubbed within an inch of her life, hair reduced to her natural, dark locks (which weren’t much to look at without the extensions in place), they had more in store for her.

The intrusions that had taken place already were not the true extent of it as she was hefted up to stand in the tub, dripping like a street urchin, gasping and heaving, trying to rally enough to shove them off her. It did no good, not as Lorel settled on scrubbing her chest and slightly sagging breasts with the huge loofa, getting around and under them, even directly across the nipples.

“Owww — hell! Get off! That’s too much, you’re hurting me!”

“Ooooh, she says we’re hurting her!” Lafawna laughed, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the bathroom with the usual, hollow acoustics. “Come on, little girl, spread your legs for me. Got to get all of you clean whether you’re going to comply or not!”

Lorel, in the end, had to hold Cherlyn’s legs apart, holding her up against her body while Cherlyn squealed and thrashed, wondering, in part, if either of them were hearing her protests at all. What was the point of saying anything if they were going to ignore her? She’d never truly been helpless before and it was a feeling that, quite honestly, she didn’t like at all, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she pushed down further, ignoring.