{"sf1_id":597141,"sf2_id":"keNgL6Om","title":"The Raven","author":"Phelix","words":883,"posted_at":"2013-09-30T21:20:00.000Z","tags":["Bird","Drama","Horror","M/F","Parody","Phelix","Poem","Raven","Romance","Rule 34","Wolf","poe"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/597141-the-raven","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/keNgL6Om","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/15/31/1531e593-5d78-4d79-9412-94c9b3802623","description":"","content":"This is pretty much what it looks like - a pornographic, furrified version of Poe's 'The Raven'. Been thinking about it for a while, but I ended up writing it in about a day. In other words, this did not supersede the other stuff I'm working on. I don't write much poetry, and obviously I don't pretend that this is nearly as good as the original, but I hope I've done him some degree of justice. As usual, reviews are enormously appreciated.\n\nJust to clarify: I really don't want anyone to think I'm making fun of Poe here. I adore his stuff - this is a tribue to him. A tribute he probably wouldn't care for, sure, but the sentiment is there.\n\n* * *\n\nOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,  \nOver Poe's trochaic lamentation for a lost _l'amour_,  \nWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  \nAs of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  \n''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door -  \nOnly this, and nothing more.'\n\nAh, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,  \nAnd each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.  \nEagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow  \nFrom my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -  \nFor the ravishing and revelrous raven whom the angels name Lenore -  \nNameless here for evermore.\n\nAnd the sumptuous silken flail of each glistening black window veil  \nBrought to mind the sensuous motions of my ebony-feathered Lenore  \nSo that, to still my blood's hot pacing, to cease my mind's perverted racing  \nI turned my thoughts back to the rapping 'pon my chamber door  \n''Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -  \nThis it is, and nothing more,'\n\nGathering my thoughts together, my mind, at last, I did untether  \nFrom endless pining for the feathered flesh of my Lenore  \nAnd stepping forward, stiffly, slowly, crying out 'By all that's holy,'  \nAnd cursing in the names of a hundred pagan gods of yore  \n'What could it be at this hour?' - here I opened wide the door -  \nAnd stared, aghast, at what I saw.\n\nA raven girl of beauteous glory stood in the darkened hall before me  \nNaked as the day God made her; naught but a grin she wore  \nAnd through that murky, starless midnight, her feathers glistened in the firelight  \nGlistened a shade of ebony I had not seen since long before  \nAnd the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 'Lenore!'  \nThis I whispered, nothing more.\n\nThe raven, steadily and slow, stepped into my chamber's glow  \nThe light now playing across her body brighter than before  \nI knew full well those glinting eyes, those curvaceous breasts and feathery thighs  \nThose hips that swayed with that familiar hypnotic allure  \nAnd stumbling back, very nearly did I fall faint upon the floor  \nAnd quoth she: 'I am Lenore'\n\nAnd passionately bellowed I 'Away from me, ye spectre! Fly,  \nfoul mockery of the woman whom I did once adore!'  \nBut, with a smirk upon her face, she stood unwavering in place  \nAs, slowly, she extended t'ward me her sharp and spindly claw  \nAnd 'round my groin she wrapped the bony fingers of her claw  \nAnd quoth again: 'I am Lenore'\n\nI felt the blood rush to my phallus, while a pallid bust of Pallas  \nSmirked down merrily upon us from above my chamber door  \nAnd the raven's grip did slowly tighten, while the goddess and the Titan  \nGrinned at me and at this apparition so like my Lenore  \nAnd slowly, shakily, uncertainly, I extend out my paw  \nToward this spectre of Lenore\n\nI ran my fingers o'er the hump of her broad and shapely rump  \nWarm and downy with that feathered texture I knew from long before  \nI felt along the supple crests of her ample, silken breasts  \nAnd o'er her belly, slightly swollen with the child she never bore  \nAnd with her dark eyes fixed upon me, quoth she again: 'I am Lenore'.  \nThis she whispered, nothing more.\n\nAnd finding myself quite unable to hold my mind or body stable  \nI grasped her hips and carried her to the table by the door  \nI stared into her gleaming eyes as she wrapped her legs about my thighs  \nAnd I stripped my clothes away and flung them to the floor  \nAnd with my arms wrapped tight about this spectre of Lenore  \nI whispered 'Leave me nevermore.'\n\nAnd at that moment, the December winds blew out the dying embers  \nAnd darkness swallowed up the room as the breeze pulled shut the door  \nAnd 'neath me, the tabletop was bare; cold and stark, nothing there  \nAnd out into the darkened room I cried her name: 'Lenore!'  \nThis I cried out, and an echo chimed off ceiling, wall and floor  \nMerely this, and nothing more.\n\nAcross the room I gauchely stumbled, and across the wall I blindly fumbled  \nFumbled for the handle of my shuttered chamber door  \nAnd finding it at long, long last, I flung the door wide open fast  \nAnd bellowed out her name into the hall beyond: 'Lenore!'  \nAnd as the echo murmured back, I stared beyond the door -  \nDarkness there, and nothing more.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}