Do you know what anthropomorphism is? No, it's not a type of ghost. According to Wikipedia, it's attribution of human form or other characteristics to anything other than a human being.
"Anthropomorphism has ancient roots as a literary device in storytelling , and also in art. Most cultures have traditional fables with anthropomorphised animals, which can stand or talk like humans, as characters.The word anthropomorphism was first used in the mid-1700s... The word derives from the Greek ἄνθρωπος (ánthrōpos), "human", and μορφή (morphē), "shape" or "form". "
I had to look it up too. There are anthropomorphic comics for adults and when I saw a call for submission for a Halloween anthology, I couldn't resist trying something new.
Like many publishers, Rabbit Valley Comic Shop has books for everyone, from G rated to NC 17. This Halloween collection contains scary stories and sexy ones too. If you're looking for something different during this spooky season, check it out. Below is an excerpt from my fun and romantic story, The Things We Do For Love.
http://www.rabbitvalley.com/item_8982___Trick-or-Treat-Halloween-Anthology-edited-by-Ianus-J-Wolf.html
*********
Once at his destination, Roger heaved a sigh and pulled the mask over his face. He might as well try to get in the right frame of mind. It wasn't that he didn't like Halloween, or even parties, but these last weeks at work had been a bitch and he was worn out. Part of him would much rather be pressed up against Adele on the couch at home, watching some B horror flick and getting in the mood to fool around.
He stepped into the entryway and was hit with gales of laughter, the scent of perfume, and different musks combined with sweat. A shudder of distaste ran through his body. He hoped he could put in a quick appearance, then talk his wife into leaving early.
The first thing he did upon entering the living room was grab a drink from a server's tray. Champagne. Not his favorite, but he gulped the liquid anyway. He scanned the room, located the bar, and headed over, hoping the Crawfords had sprung for some decent booze. Elbowing his way past a pirate whose sword slapped his leg and a fairy who playfully blew dust at him, he reached the oasis at last.
It was amazing how quick his fellow foxes were to don these silly getups. He suspected many of the males were here for the same reason he was, to please their wives in the hopes of indulging in a little after-party play. One thing he was happy to see, many of the women had relaxed their prim and proper visage in favor of something more wanton. Quite a bit of cleavage was on display. Yet it still reminded him how much he'd rather be holding Adele than having to settle for ogling some other vixen.
Finding a quiet spot in the corner, he settled in for a few minutes, still slightly on edge from the work day. The reaper mask was bulky and he had to tip it up to drink, scanning the crowd as he sipped. Thankfully Howard, as Roger remembered, insisted on good whiskey wherever he was.
He recognized a few folks from their neighborhood but no one he was particularly close to. Why Adele liked to converse about meaningless matters with people she hardly knew was beyond him. He was much happier parked in front of his television in his favorite recliner. The music was relatively pleasant, however, and after a few minutes, the chatter became a soothing background noise.
He started on his second whiskey, savoring the smoky taste and the slow burn as it went down his throat. There, that was better. The last little fragment of the day's stress fell away and he finally felt like joining his fellow creatures in the party mood.
With the loosening effects of alcohol, the various costumes he saw were creative, he had to admit. Though most attendees were foxes, he noticed a few other species. Nice to know the Crawfords weren't racist. There was a hedgehog wizard, a mongoose witch, and… damn, another grim reaper fox. Adele would not be happy about that; she liked to be original.
Speaking of the lovely creature, he spied a tall white wig across the room and decided to have a little fun with his wife. This was a party, after all. He slipped through the crowd, his mask fully down on his face. Oh good, she was heading down a hallway and didn't appear to have noticed him. Perfect! He stumbled slightly, making a note to find food after this interlude. Busy as the day had been, he hadn't had much to eat.
She slipped into a room and he followed, shutting the door behind him. Light from a full moon illuminated the dark bedroom and he saw her walk to the bed where several purses lay. She was probably going to freshen her lipstick, he surmised, though he didn't know why she would bother, since she was wearing a feline mask to look more like the original Marie. Maybe she was planning to put on another spritz of perfume, though it was already fairly heavy, and even his sensitive nose couldn't pierce it. He approached quietly and when he was within reach, gently ran his claws through the bare area of fur left uncovered by her dress in the back. It looked darker than usual here in the bedroom, with the shadows playing over her body.
She yelped with surprise and jerked her head straight up.
"Oh, it's you. Don't sneak up on me like that." Her voice sounded hollow, muffled by the mask. He followed her gaze to a mirror on top of a dresser. They made quite a striking couple, he had to say, the queen of France and the harbinger of death.
Her costume dipped low in the front, revealing a tasty peek of cleavage. He hadn't planned anything other than a stolen kiss, and as tempting as it was to pull off her mask and press their muzzles together, another wonderfully naughty thought occurred to him. The stirring under his cloak made him want more.
"Turn around, face the bed and bend over," he commanded in a low, husky voice, remembering how he'd teased her a few days ago. "Obey the reaper, and you may live to see the morning."
"As you command," she said, also in a low, sultry voice, and complied with his request. Apparently, the idea of hidden faces and assuming another identity thrilled her as much as him. Under the wide skirts, he could see the bulge of her tail wagging furiously. His cock jumped as she turned and bent.
He lifted her skirt, pleased to see she wore no undergarments, then ran a paw over the soft fur of her bottom. In this low light, it looked plumper than usual. He blinked and shook his head, cursing the effects of the alcohol. Her ass felt firm and delectable as always, however, and a low moan came from her throat as he moved his hand to the front of her body to stroke her already moist sex. He slipped his fingers deeper and the feel of her soft, wet folds sent an electric shock through his body. Desire coursed through him, primitive and strong, more forceful than he'd felt in ages. He had to have her, right now.
*********
"Anthropomorphism has ancient roots as a literary device in storytelling , and also in art. Most cultures have traditional fables with anthropomorphised animals, which can stand or talk like humans, as characters.The word anthropomorphism was first used in the mid-1700s... The word derives from the Greek ἄνθρωπος (ánthrōpos), "human", and μορφή (morphē), "shape" or "form". "
I had to look it up too. There are anthropomorphic comics for adults and when I saw a call for submission for a Halloween anthology, I couldn't resist trying something new.
Like many publishers, Rabbit Valley Comic Shop has books for everyone, from G rated to NC 17. This Halloween collection contains scary stories and sexy ones too. If you're looking for something different during this spooky season, check it out. Below is an excerpt from my fun and romantic story, The Things We Do For Love.
http://www.rabbitvalley.com/item_8982___Trick-or-Treat-Halloween-Anthology-edited-by-Ianus-J-Wolf.html
*********
Once at his destination, Roger heaved a sigh and pulled the mask over his face. He might as well try to get in the right frame of mind. It wasn't that he didn't like Halloween, or even parties, but these last weeks at work had been a bitch and he was worn out. Part of him would much rather be pressed up against Adele on the couch at home, watching some B horror flick and getting in the mood to fool around.
He stepped into the entryway and was hit with gales of laughter, the scent of perfume, and different musks combined with sweat. A shudder of distaste ran through his body. He hoped he could put in a quick appearance, then talk his wife into leaving early.
The first thing he did upon entering the living room was grab a drink from a server's tray. Champagne. Not his favorite, but he gulped the liquid anyway. He scanned the room, located the bar, and headed over, hoping the Crawfords had sprung for some decent booze. Elbowing his way past a pirate whose sword slapped his leg and a fairy who playfully blew dust at him, he reached the oasis at last.
It was amazing how quick his fellow foxes were to don these silly getups. He suspected many of the males were here for the same reason he was, to please their wives in the hopes of indulging in a little after-party play. One thing he was happy to see, many of the women had relaxed their prim and proper visage in favor of something more wanton. Quite a bit of cleavage was on display. Yet it still reminded him how much he'd rather be holding Adele than having to settle for ogling some other vixen.
Finding a quiet spot in the corner, he settled in for a few minutes, still slightly on edge from the work day. The reaper mask was bulky and he had to tip it up to drink, scanning the crowd as he sipped. Thankfully Howard, as Roger remembered, insisted on good whiskey wherever he was.
He recognized a few folks from their neighborhood but no one he was particularly close to. Why Adele liked to converse about meaningless matters with people she hardly knew was beyond him. He was much happier parked in front of his television in his favorite recliner. The music was relatively pleasant, however, and after a few minutes, the chatter became a soothing background noise.
He started on his second whiskey, savoring the smoky taste and the slow burn as it went down his throat. There, that was better. The last little fragment of the day's stress fell away and he finally felt like joining his fellow creatures in the party mood.
With the loosening effects of alcohol, the various costumes he saw were creative, he had to admit. Though most attendees were foxes, he noticed a few other species. Nice to know the Crawfords weren't racist. There was a hedgehog wizard, a mongoose witch, and… damn, another grim reaper fox. Adele would not be happy about that; she liked to be original.
Speaking of the lovely creature, he spied a tall white wig across the room and decided to have a little fun with his wife. This was a party, after all. He slipped through the crowd, his mask fully down on his face. Oh good, she was heading down a hallway and didn't appear to have noticed him. Perfect! He stumbled slightly, making a note to find food after this interlude. Busy as the day had been, he hadn't had much to eat.
She slipped into a room and he followed, shutting the door behind him. Light from a full moon illuminated the dark bedroom and he saw her walk to the bed where several purses lay. She was probably going to freshen her lipstick, he surmised, though he didn't know why she would bother, since she was wearing a feline mask to look more like the original Marie. Maybe she was planning to put on another spritz of perfume, though it was already fairly heavy, and even his sensitive nose couldn't pierce it. He approached quietly and when he was within reach, gently ran his claws through the bare area of fur left uncovered by her dress in the back. It looked darker than usual here in the bedroom, with the shadows playing over her body.
She yelped with surprise and jerked her head straight up.
"Oh, it's you. Don't sneak up on me like that." Her voice sounded hollow, muffled by the mask. He followed her gaze to a mirror on top of a dresser. They made quite a striking couple, he had to say, the queen of France and the harbinger of death.
Her costume dipped low in the front, revealing a tasty peek of cleavage. He hadn't planned anything other than a stolen kiss, and as tempting as it was to pull off her mask and press their muzzles together, another wonderfully naughty thought occurred to him. The stirring under his cloak made him want more.
"Turn around, face the bed and bend over," he commanded in a low, husky voice, remembering how he'd teased her a few days ago. "Obey the reaper, and you may live to see the morning."
"As you command," she said, also in a low, sultry voice, and complied with his request. Apparently, the idea of hidden faces and assuming another identity thrilled her as much as him. Under the wide skirts, he could see the bulge of her tail wagging furiously. His cock jumped as she turned and bent.
He lifted her skirt, pleased to see she wore no undergarments, then ran a paw over the soft fur of her bottom. In this low light, it looked plumper than usual. He blinked and shook his head, cursing the effects of the alcohol. Her ass felt firm and delectable as always, however, and a low moan came from her throat as he moved his hand to the front of her body to stroke her already moist sex. He slipped his fingers deeper and the feel of her soft, wet folds sent an electric shock through his body. Desire coursed through him, primitive and strong, more forceful than he'd felt in ages. He had to have her, right now.
*********
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