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A colored drawing by the lovely 
RaccoonShinobi who has a patreon and has some very interesting work, spanning muscle, preg, a good dash of horror, and the like.
Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26678147/
Nude Alt: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26678077/
Sometimes the happiest moments come after a long, sad streak.
Sasha stretched across the couch, flipping through channels on the immense television in front of her. She heard barely a second of each channel before the next one piped up. She breezed through dozens of channels, trying to find something, anything to break her mood. The Munchies Network had a special on hazelnuts and butter bars. She had found her spot.
The voiceover described such decadent nuts to her fancy, but her face gave no hints of delight. This was not a happy hunger. This was a painful, aggravated hunger that wanted desperately to be her only emotion, her only drive. Anything to stop the lingering malaise that hounded at her these last few months. Over the sizzle of nuts on the stove, she heard a doctor's voice, echoing vaguely in her memories.
"We're sorry, Mrs. McKay. We just...don't think this is going to work."
"Wh-what do you mean?" the squirreltaur sat up, ears perked up as she listened intently to the rabbit doctor sitting across the small room. She grasped against her husband's large hands, the only thing she could hold onto that very moment. They were strong equine hands, but her grip was intense, calculated as a drummer's.
"The treatment is not working, I'm afraid. We've checked your blood-work, and after a few weeks, we were hoping your body would take it more effectively. The hormones are in place, and we know you're ovulating, but...it just isn't working."
"Then what about In Vitro. That has to work, right?" Her voice was getting higher in pitch, squeaking out as her options emptied and desperation filled the gaps.
"In Vitro Fertilization is possible but not recommended. Given your husband's size difference to yours, the potential that the child will be a hybrid, and the high chance of multiples from the process - there is no telling whether your body will be able to handle-"
"-It can handle it!" she barked. "Just give me a chance, and I'll do it. Put me in a trial. Anything." Her strong shout whittled down to a squeak as she felt reality step in.
"Doctor Gala, there must be something..." Galvin said, quiet and calm as could be. By then, his wife had been leaning against him entirely, whimpering.
The rabbit sighed and gently shook her head. "Given what we've seen, there is *some* possibility that she may be able to conceive, but there are risks that we in this office may not be capable of handling. I can refer you to another specialist in the field, but they may fall into the same conclusion. There are more extreme options, but given your stressful situation already, I fear it can only make things worse for you and your wife."
The doctor stood up, handing the two some pamphlets and a card. None of them looked particularly joyful.
"I wish I could help more, Mrs and Mr. McKay, but I'm afraid this is beyond our scope. Thank you, and...good luck."
The remote had been tossed onto the floor some five feet from the couch. She was not going to need it. Not now. There were nuts and snack bars being made on the television, and that was all the squirreltaur needed. She shifted herself and tugged at her band's shirt. Her band. Yeah, sure, ex-band, maybe. She couldn't handle it anymore. All the heartbreak from those visits and all the times they tried. It hurt. Her performance grew more erratic, and soon she just stopped playing at practice.
She looked to the ceiling, and amid the baking of sweets from the television, she heard the bobcat guitarist growl about her from afar.
"Black Eye, I know she's good. She's better than good. But if she keeps ditching practice, she's gunna sound like ass on the shows! We can't just let her lay around doing nothing when we need that intensity."
"Snap, calm down. She's in a bad funk. She'll be ready in due time." her husband tried to protect her, even when it was wrong. Such was love.
"Like Hell she'll be! Listen, I get if you want her to stay in, but we need to be sure we don't have moments like this when we're in the big city about to perform to thousands!"
"Snap may have a point, Galvin," a deep voice rumbled from the lizardfox nearby. "If Crimson can't perform, we need to know now and prepare for replacements for the different stops. The tour is a while away, but we need to plan now, not then."
Before her husband could defend her again, the squirreltaur walked up to them and lifted a hand.
"No, hunny...I...I understand. We can't do this. I joined Spiked Mane for more than just you, but...if I'm keeping the band from performing its best, I'll step back. Let you guys take care of things." she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she continued. "It's just been a lot for me, okay? We've been turned away by a lot of of doctors, and it is getting to be too much. Between that and this new album, I just...need some time."
The bandmates stood silent. The squirreltaur wiped her eyes and sighed before breaking a small smile. "At least you have my kick-ass drum rolls on the album."
The taur gave a soft giggle to herself, but nobody was around to hear it, save the television which had since fallen to commercial. She grumbled and finally forced herself out of the couch and turned off the screen. She sighed and looked around. The house was mostly quiet, her husband at practice once again for the upcoming tour. It would be a couple months before he and the rest of the band was out, playing hits to the world - hits she helped produce. She bit her lip. Why couldn't she just suck it up and get on stage? It was not her first outing, after all, but...there was more at play this time around.
She looked to the television, which had previous displayed a hedgehog spouting buzzwords on a great snack bar covered in rich chocolate and peanut butter. Food was a good idea, she figured, and she made her way to the kitchen. Her helpers had been given the day off for now, so she had to fend for herself.
Sasha grabbed some bread and made herself a rich almond butter and pepper jam sandwich - something she tried occasionally to spice things up - and as she took a bite, she felt that rich heat envelop her mouth. That heat made her shiver as she grabbed a glass of milk. It was hot, maybe a little painful, but not as much as it did that one night.
The taste still ran in her maw, lingering as he listened to the completed album. She could hear her husband's voice roar in the mic, passionate cries emerging from a strong equine frame. She unplugged her headphones to let the music out in the room, and she turned the volume knob high, enough to echo the music around the room in every which way. She looked to her drumset as though it were a dance partner reaching their hand out. She nodded and shifted over to her custom seat, and her forepaws rested on levers while she grabbed hold of the sticks beside her. She licked her lips and began to play.
Time escaped her, instead replaced by an emotional torrent. Tears poured out, and an angry growl erupted from her throat as she slammed on the skins. Double-bass hits, drumrolls, cymbal hits, a primordial language in the form of percussion. She could hear the songs her band played, and with her eyes closed, she felt the crowd's eyes. Did they know how she suffered? Those earlier years, against the wall. Those later years, tossed aside and left alone. The words. The lies she told herself. She could see the crowd's hands lifted up, shouting for more. More of what? More of this agony? Let them have it! She shouted again in time to her husband's recording, and the heavy drum roll carried them both forward in song.
She wanted to be a great drummer. She wanted to be a good wife. She wanted to be a better mother than her mother ever could have been. And she was none of those things. She could not be those things. But she wanted those things, and she would drum to the empty room as though it were her only chance, her only avenue. Maybe God was a fan of metal.
The room was not empty, though. Mouth agape, her husband stared, wife in her underwear finishing the latest tirade of drum beats, hair and fur dancing in the throws of her body. She was as perfect as she was when he first heard her play, but more. She was more than before. She was Sasha the Crimson Tail, and she had conquered those drums and burst forth, a volcano of emotion. Her eyes opened to see him slowly walk up. The music had stopped, but even if it hadn't, she could not hear it. She could only hear their heartbeats when their bodies collided and carried to the cushions on the floor. She still had many songs to perform that night.
Wait, when was that? Sasha put the sandwich back on the plate. She tried remembering the date...a few weeks ago? She looked around, as though someone else would agree with her. How many sandwiches did she have recently, anyways? She was laying around the couch feeling all groggy...but she was hungry, too. She felt her heartbeat grow more intensely as she realized that she had missed something in particular. Something very important. And it was not the almond butter.
Staggering into the bathroom, the squirreltaur searched through piles of boxes. Nothing unusual for her morning. She eventually found the box she wanted...sitting in the corner, left alone for the last few weeks. She opened the box, took a stick out, followed the instructions step-by-step, sat down, gently sighed, and waited. Moments passed...more than she was willing to wait. Sasha looked over to the counter where the stick stood. Her breathing grew into a crescendo, her heart's rhythm intensified, and she let out the lyrics her life's song had been waiting for.
Sometimes the happiest moments happen after a long, sad streak. That streak was broken by a giddy squirreltaur who nearly hit her head on the ceiling as she bounced on her hindpaws. A giddy, pregnant squirreltaur.
---
More lovely Sasha (and a nice long improvised story) stuffff! She's such a cutie! But she's about to find out she's got quite a lot more than expected to come! :3c Any questions and the like? Any thoughts on the story or some such?
RaccoonShinobi who has a patreon and has some very interesting work, spanning muscle, preg, a good dash of horror, and the like.Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26678147/
Nude Alt: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26678077/
Sometimes the happiest moments come after a long, sad streak.
Sasha stretched across the couch, flipping through channels on the immense television in front of her. She heard barely a second of each channel before the next one piped up. She breezed through dozens of channels, trying to find something, anything to break her mood. The Munchies Network had a special on hazelnuts and butter bars. She had found her spot.
The voiceover described such decadent nuts to her fancy, but her face gave no hints of delight. This was not a happy hunger. This was a painful, aggravated hunger that wanted desperately to be her only emotion, her only drive. Anything to stop the lingering malaise that hounded at her these last few months. Over the sizzle of nuts on the stove, she heard a doctor's voice, echoing vaguely in her memories.
"We're sorry, Mrs. McKay. We just...don't think this is going to work."
"Wh-what do you mean?" the squirreltaur sat up, ears perked up as she listened intently to the rabbit doctor sitting across the small room. She grasped against her husband's large hands, the only thing she could hold onto that very moment. They were strong equine hands, but her grip was intense, calculated as a drummer's.
"The treatment is not working, I'm afraid. We've checked your blood-work, and after a few weeks, we were hoping your body would take it more effectively. The hormones are in place, and we know you're ovulating, but...it just isn't working."
"Then what about In Vitro. That has to work, right?" Her voice was getting higher in pitch, squeaking out as her options emptied and desperation filled the gaps.
"In Vitro Fertilization is possible but not recommended. Given your husband's size difference to yours, the potential that the child will be a hybrid, and the high chance of multiples from the process - there is no telling whether your body will be able to handle-"
"-It can handle it!" she barked. "Just give me a chance, and I'll do it. Put me in a trial. Anything." Her strong shout whittled down to a squeak as she felt reality step in.
"Doctor Gala, there must be something..." Galvin said, quiet and calm as could be. By then, his wife had been leaning against him entirely, whimpering.
The rabbit sighed and gently shook her head. "Given what we've seen, there is *some* possibility that she may be able to conceive, but there are risks that we in this office may not be capable of handling. I can refer you to another specialist in the field, but they may fall into the same conclusion. There are more extreme options, but given your stressful situation already, I fear it can only make things worse for you and your wife."
The doctor stood up, handing the two some pamphlets and a card. None of them looked particularly joyful.
"I wish I could help more, Mrs and Mr. McKay, but I'm afraid this is beyond our scope. Thank you, and...good luck."
The remote had been tossed onto the floor some five feet from the couch. She was not going to need it. Not now. There were nuts and snack bars being made on the television, and that was all the squirreltaur needed. She shifted herself and tugged at her band's shirt. Her band. Yeah, sure, ex-band, maybe. She couldn't handle it anymore. All the heartbreak from those visits and all the times they tried. It hurt. Her performance grew more erratic, and soon she just stopped playing at practice.
She looked to the ceiling, and amid the baking of sweets from the television, she heard the bobcat guitarist growl about her from afar.
"Black Eye, I know she's good. She's better than good. But if she keeps ditching practice, she's gunna sound like ass on the shows! We can't just let her lay around doing nothing when we need that intensity."
"Snap, calm down. She's in a bad funk. She'll be ready in due time." her husband tried to protect her, even when it was wrong. Such was love.
"Like Hell she'll be! Listen, I get if you want her to stay in, but we need to be sure we don't have moments like this when we're in the big city about to perform to thousands!"
"Snap may have a point, Galvin," a deep voice rumbled from the lizardfox nearby. "If Crimson can't perform, we need to know now and prepare for replacements for the different stops. The tour is a while away, but we need to plan now, not then."
Before her husband could defend her again, the squirreltaur walked up to them and lifted a hand.
"No, hunny...I...I understand. We can't do this. I joined Spiked Mane for more than just you, but...if I'm keeping the band from performing its best, I'll step back. Let you guys take care of things." she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she continued. "It's just been a lot for me, okay? We've been turned away by a lot of of doctors, and it is getting to be too much. Between that and this new album, I just...need some time."
The bandmates stood silent. The squirreltaur wiped her eyes and sighed before breaking a small smile. "At least you have my kick-ass drum rolls on the album."
The taur gave a soft giggle to herself, but nobody was around to hear it, save the television which had since fallen to commercial. She grumbled and finally forced herself out of the couch and turned off the screen. She sighed and looked around. The house was mostly quiet, her husband at practice once again for the upcoming tour. It would be a couple months before he and the rest of the band was out, playing hits to the world - hits she helped produce. She bit her lip. Why couldn't she just suck it up and get on stage? It was not her first outing, after all, but...there was more at play this time around.
She looked to the television, which had previous displayed a hedgehog spouting buzzwords on a great snack bar covered in rich chocolate and peanut butter. Food was a good idea, she figured, and she made her way to the kitchen. Her helpers had been given the day off for now, so she had to fend for herself.
Sasha grabbed some bread and made herself a rich almond butter and pepper jam sandwich - something she tried occasionally to spice things up - and as she took a bite, she felt that rich heat envelop her mouth. That heat made her shiver as she grabbed a glass of milk. It was hot, maybe a little painful, but not as much as it did that one night.
The taste still ran in her maw, lingering as he listened to the completed album. She could hear her husband's voice roar in the mic, passionate cries emerging from a strong equine frame. She unplugged her headphones to let the music out in the room, and she turned the volume knob high, enough to echo the music around the room in every which way. She looked to her drumset as though it were a dance partner reaching their hand out. She nodded and shifted over to her custom seat, and her forepaws rested on levers while she grabbed hold of the sticks beside her. She licked her lips and began to play.
Time escaped her, instead replaced by an emotional torrent. Tears poured out, and an angry growl erupted from her throat as she slammed on the skins. Double-bass hits, drumrolls, cymbal hits, a primordial language in the form of percussion. She could hear the songs her band played, and with her eyes closed, she felt the crowd's eyes. Did they know how she suffered? Those earlier years, against the wall. Those later years, tossed aside and left alone. The words. The lies she told herself. She could see the crowd's hands lifted up, shouting for more. More of what? More of this agony? Let them have it! She shouted again in time to her husband's recording, and the heavy drum roll carried them both forward in song.
She wanted to be a great drummer. She wanted to be a good wife. She wanted to be a better mother than her mother ever could have been. And she was none of those things. She could not be those things. But she wanted those things, and she would drum to the empty room as though it were her only chance, her only avenue. Maybe God was a fan of metal.
The room was not empty, though. Mouth agape, her husband stared, wife in her underwear finishing the latest tirade of drum beats, hair and fur dancing in the throws of her body. She was as perfect as she was when he first heard her play, but more. She was more than before. She was Sasha the Crimson Tail, and she had conquered those drums and burst forth, a volcano of emotion. Her eyes opened to see him slowly walk up. The music had stopped, but even if it hadn't, she could not hear it. She could only hear their heartbeats when their bodies collided and carried to the cushions on the floor. She still had many songs to perform that night.
Wait, when was that? Sasha put the sandwich back on the plate. She tried remembering the date...a few weeks ago? She looked around, as though someone else would agree with her. How many sandwiches did she have recently, anyways? She was laying around the couch feeling all groggy...but she was hungry, too. She felt her heartbeat grow more intensely as she realized that she had missed something in particular. Something very important. And it was not the almond butter.
Staggering into the bathroom, the squirreltaur searched through piles of boxes. Nothing unusual for her morning. She eventually found the box she wanted...sitting in the corner, left alone for the last few weeks. She opened the box, took a stick out, followed the instructions step-by-step, sat down, gently sighed, and waited. Moments passed...more than she was willing to wait. Sasha looked over to the counter where the stick stood. Her breathing grew into a crescendo, her heart's rhythm intensified, and she let out the lyrics her life's song had been waiting for.
Sometimes the happiest moments happen after a long, sad streak. That streak was broken by a giddy squirreltaur who nearly hit her head on the ceiling as she bounced on her hindpaws. A giddy, pregnant squirreltaur.
---
More lovely Sasha (and a nice long improvised story) stuffff! She's such a cutie! But she's about to find out she's got quite a lot more than expected to come! :3c Any questions and the like? Any thoughts on the story or some such?
Category All / Pregnancy
Species Squirrel
Size 720 x 1080px
File Size 322.4 kB
Taur fashion is complicated, but definitely not uncommon here. As a member of the band, she probably got the shirt from a vendor that the band worked with to get merchandise out to the masses. Of course, it could easily be a custom shirt she had made for herself, but it is more likely a shirt she got for being in the band - one of many perks of being in the band and the lead singer's wife!
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