by Tempe O'Kun
Whatever haunted the lake, it would have to wait for another day. After all, the fantastic creature buried on his penis was far more important than any that might be swimming under the water. He blinked at the empty shoreline behind him, then leaned to her ear and whispered: “You remembered to bring towels, right?”
Pack Lunch
The sun in his fluff, Max strode down quiet streets, distributing polite nods to townsfolk. The older the people, the more likely they’d comment on “what a nice young dog” he was. Not that the husky minded; it just embarrassed him, like when Strangeville fans spotted him. A quick stop at the diner and he emerged with two polystyrene takeout boxes.
The quiet of small town streets was interrupted only by the occasional hoot of tourists parading inflatable UFOs between hoax museums and hanging healing crystals from their minivan rear-view mirrors. Across the street, a store selling flat globes and emphatic screeds in support thereof shared floorspace with a “craft your own alien artifact” shop.
After sniffing around downtown, he passed the gift shop, he also passed a cocker spaniel baking conditioner into her fur in the midday sun. Pretending to doze behind sunglasses, she shifted to spread her legs a little, which just so happened to brush a foot along his calf. He hurried by, pretending to be fooled by her pretend slumber.
Undeterred, she lowered her sunglasses to smarm at him. “Look at you, walking alone in this part of town. Finally ditch the fishmonger?”
“On my way to see her right now, actually.” He tilted his head toward the store next door.
“Too bad.” She rolled to her stomach, her ample breasts arching her back in a curve that ended with a long tail over her bikini bottoms. “I could really use a pair of big strong paws to spread fur conditioner on my back.”
He hefted the takeout containers. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.”
“Two coats please…” Without looking, she waggled a slim aerosol can at him. “And it only works really well if you rub it in.”
He examined the back of his own paw. “Good to know, but I really ought to be going.”
“Don’t be shy, Max.” A flirty whine rose in her throat. “I’m sure a Hollywood pooch like you could teach me a trick or two.”
“They actually apply fur conditioner the same way there.” He resolved to take the back door out of the shop. “I’ll see you later, Cindy.”
“So you’re cool with not having a pack?” Her legs crossed as she rubbed in a little more fur conditioner. “Thought huskies were all about that sort of thing.”
He froze. “I have a pack.”
“She doesn’t count, though, right? She’s an otter. Anybody but a canine will ditch you eventually.” A sharp tang if bitterness leeched into her tone, hidden with a sweet smile as she glanced at him over tipped sunglasses. “I mean, we all play around outside our species. But she can keep up with you for, what? Half a kilometer?” She waved the bottle along the length of the street. “I’ve seen you out running, and she’s never with you.”
He blinked. Kylie could out-maneuver him, sure. But otters weren’t built to run in straight lines. He found her waddle cute. It showed off her butt. He decided not to get into a discussion of butts at the moment. His girlfriend’s booty, however, left little room in his mind to build a rebuttal.
“And when was the last time you were in a good howl?” The cocker spaniel gave a playful woo to woo him. “You know: canine culture.”
His most recent howl had been with some high school friends back in Montana. To give him a proper send-off, they’d had a big bonfire by a lake. They’d exchanged howls: coyote, wolf, dog. Even their one fox friend, often too cool to yowl, joined in. It’d been a blast. Sure, they’d had to double-check some more obscure ones by streaming them on their phones, but it had been a very satisfying in a primal way. Some of those howls were thousands of years old. Maybe older. A couple non-canids at the party made some noble attempts, but they weren’t built for it. Weird to think Kylie couldn’t join in an activity he found so easy and natural.
Cindy smirked at his silence, then nuzzled the side of the conditioner bottle. Her silky tail swished in the sunshine. “I bet I could make you howl.”
His eyes rolled. He hefted his takeout boxes. “Gotta go share the results of my hunt. Canine culture, you know.”
“Don’t go too far.” She called after him, with a too-sweet simper.
At last, he slunk past her to the small, time-beaten book and record shop. In the window, a placard with faded psychedelic lettering asked “Remember the 60s?” which he didn’t; however the price sticker indicated it’d become a valuable relic in its own right. A hint of otter-scent drifted through the screen door, warming the husky’s heart. The canine poked his nose in the door. The scent of old paper sharpened the air. Varnished wood leant an amber glow. Dust spiraled in sunbeams. A pretty otter sat reading at the counter. His otter.
Kylie glanced up from a worn paperback. “Hey Maxie.”
He smiled. His tail thumped the doorframe. “Hi.”
A wave of amusement translated down her supple frame. Her body amazed him. Always had, even on set; she flowed like water while he thumped along behind her like a cinderblock in cargo pants.
Padding over, his paws ended up on her hips. Cramped filming quarters and years on the road between locations had squeezed out any distance between them. He wasn’t sure when it’d gotten so easy for them to touch each other, but he was pretty sure she started it. The touching had just gotten a little closer once they’d started dating.
Without standing, she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “How’re you?”
His tail swirled more dust as he smiled at her.
“That good, huh?” She scratched under his chin, doing it just right.
A shrug jostled his shoulders as he relaxed into her affections. “Mmmm…”
The otter glanced down to the plastic bag. “What’s in there?”
“Oh.” He took out the takeout boxes and set them on the counter. “Lunch.”
Eyebrow raised, she sniffed at him, then scowled. “Did Cindy ambush you again? You smell like bubblegum and bitch.”
He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t let her distract from my objective.” He opened one box on the counter. “Tuna salad panini.”
She licked her lips, then kissed his.
Wagging, he unpacked his own sandwich. Not fish. He did occasionally get tired of sea food. He took every opportunity to vary his diet when they ate out. “So: weird to not have a caterer on-site, huh?”
“Who says I don’t?” Without asking, she stole the pickle from his takeout box.
Smiling around roast beef, he looked around the shop, then at his girlfriend. “This place is always a wreck. You like working in a permanent garage sale?”
Hopping to sit on the counter, she smiled down at him and relished the viewpoint almost as much as the fish. Not often she got to be taller than him. “It’s a good place to look for clues.”
“Clues for what?” He cocked an ear.
“Supernatural junk. I’ve been here for months and I hear new rumors on a daily basis—mostly from the tourists, but some locals too.”
His muzzle bobbed a nod. “Consignment store recon?”
She looked up, muzzle-deep in the fish sandwich. “You can learn a lot from people’s old junk.”
Max glanced to a wall of vintage food posters, several of which advertised ingredients he was pretty sure were had become illegal in the intervening years.
Her gaze followed his. “For example, I learned whoever had those was super old and saw no reason not to eat gelatin at every meal of the day.”
He nodded, then pointed to the endless shelves of vinyl records. “That half of the store could fit on a cheap phone.” His eyes flicked to the stacks of novels around them. “So could this half, come to think of it.”
“People don’t buy content here.” The otter spread her webbed paws. “They buy physical chunks of nostalgia.”
Max che
wed in consideration. “You’ve been talking to a certain blasé-faire cat again.”
Her arms crossed under pert breasts. “He’s my only coworker.”
He cast a glance around the shop. “He’s not in today?”
“Nah, helping his parents with something.” She licked the last of the fish from her claws. Bobbing closer, she brushed crumbs off his whiskers. “Won’t be back until close.”
“Good.” The husky leaned up to deliver a smooch to her muzzle.
Kissing back, she giggled and straddled his lap. Her paws sunk through his fluff to the base of his tail. “You know, this is one of my favorite things.” Her other paw traced his tail base.
Shy heat flushed under his fur. “Oh?”
“Being close with you, just hanging out and talking. I missed it, after the show ended.” She gripped the wagging appendage, stroking his soft fur. “It might even be my second favorite thing.”
“Second?” He wagged harder.
Her webbed paw cupped his crotch and squeezed him through the fabric.
Ears tilting askew, he sputtered. “Uhmmm…”
Still scratching his ears, she groped his plumping sheath. “Like that?”
“Uh-huh…” The dog wiggled in pleasure.
The otter giggled, then glanced around the empty shop. “I need your help with something in the back.” She slipped off the stool and flowed past him with a teasing look.
“Okay.” He followed her swaying tail to the stockroom. Only one entrance. A dusty window streamed sunlight across boxes of books. Motes floated, lit aglow. The dog saw books, boxes and boxes of them, and no obvious work. “So, what’d you need?”
Her thick tail shut the door. “This.” Prancing with excitement, she pushed him to a corner. Those brown eyes shone with mischief. Slender paws rested over his racing heart. That wide nose rose to his, rubbing with silent affection as their lips met.
Max could have sworn he could hear his heartbeat, but then felt his tail drumming on the wall again. He could feel himself grinning like an idiot.
The otter pressed against him eased back from the kiss, eyes closed as she whispered up to him. “Silly doggy.”
He stood, frozen with glee for a moment. His arms rose to embrace her.
They kissed again. Her body felt so right against his, melding along him with supple intimacy. So familiar and yet so different from how she’d always felt. A few months ago, he never would’ve imagined doing this with his best friend. Any attraction he’d had, he’d dismissed as random horniness. Spending a summer with her had changed all that. Amazing how tracking down an extra-dimensional monster could bring two people together.
Her soft muzzle met his now, rather than just pressing into his shoulder. Those eager paws didn’t just rest on his back; they caressed his fluff through the thin fabric of his shirt. Years together had made their touching normal, even reassuring; those touches came more intimate now, though every bit as safe.
One more kiss, then her hands trailed down his body as she knelt at the dog’s feet. A rascal’s grin shone up at him.
“Kylie…” He stood, stiff and trusting. “What’re you doing?”
With a giggle, she knelt to nuzzle the crotch of his pants. “Just checking inventory.” A deft claw hooked his zipper, flicking it up and down over his straining budge. Her muzzle pressed along his thigh, she looked up at him with lutrine longing. “Take your pants off for me?”
The husky gritted his teeth, ears sinking in surrender as he glanced to the door of the stockroom. His thumbs toyed with the button of his jeans. “What if someone comes?”
Her nose rubbed up and down his crotch. Every word vibrated temptation through his length: “That’s sort of the idea, Maxie.”
With a whine of desire and a blush of shyness, he unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his ankles.
She rested her chin on his stomach and toyed with the hem of his shirt. “This too?”
Max swallowed, then pulled off his t-shirt. He folded it over the rungs of a upturned chair and wrung his paws, feeling exposed.
Chittering with glee, his girlfriend ran webbed paws down his chest, then fondled his sheath and balls through his boxers. “And these?”
Pulling down the dark fabric, he felt it slide down his legs and tail to join his jeans. He stepped out of the garments and leaned against an antique desk, well aware how she could make him lose his balance.
Gentle otter jaws nibbled at his sac. Nosing up, she caressed the peeking tip of his member as it poked from the sheath.
He gave a nervous chuckle and rested a shaky paw on her hair. “Happy now?”
“Mmmhmm…” Warm hands closed around his length. Paw webs stroked pleasure up and down naked flesh. That wide otter nose bumped his balls. Breath on his cock warmed the pink inside his ears. She pulled back a few inches, grinning, and paused to make sure he was looking her in the eyes before she extended her tongue for a delicate lick of his member. She paused, pretending not to notice his shivering as she rolled the taste around on her tongue. “Mmm…”
Max whimpered and slid to sit on the floor. His toes curled in his shoes as he felt himself extend against her forehead. A thin string of fluid brushed onto her fur, leaving a shiny dark streak. A nervous chuckle formed in his muzzle. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind getting wet.” The otter glanced up at him, stroking back a stray lock of red hair, then, with only a moment’s hesitation, kissed his dribbling tip. She smiled at his taste. “Especially with you.”
An unsteady smile crept across his muzzle.
Stroking with both paws, she nuzzled white fur and red flesh. That wide otter nose traced up and down his tender flesh. The sunlit room sat silent, except for the wet sounds of her kissing along his length. Those big brown eyes glinted mischief as her muzzle enveloped his dick.
Max gasped. His cock grew along the hot confines of her mouth, while his knees grew weak. Her eyes held a look of delighted determination, though, so he straightened, gripping an old desk for support.
Looking up, she giggled around his dick. A delicate paw tugged his sheath back and forth, bunching it against suckling otter lips. Velvet fur and a satin tongue explored him in playful worship as she knelt between his knees.
His wide paws trembled onto her head, cupping her face. A bulge in one cheek, then the other bumped his palms—a bulge he recognized as his own cock. A whine of wonder and he squirted precum against the back of her mouth.
The otter coughed off him, clearing her throat.
Concern lifted his ears. “Kylie?”
“S’okay.” One paw wiped her lips, the other gripping his thick shaft. She gave his tip a giddy kiss. “It’s just hard not to get greedy.” Her lips closed around him again, not diving so deep this time.
“You really like…?” He gripped the sides of the desk and grappled for composure. “I mean…”
“I love your dick.” Kylie gripped the stiffening canine length and waggled it back and forth, grinning. Her webbed paw stroked the sheath along his rampant arousal.
“Yeah?” Max, seated on the desk, bit his lip in pleasure and stroked her hair. His other paw groped at the faded paper calendar. On the tip, afternoon light caught in a crystalline sheen of saliva and precum.
“Mmmhmm.” The otter hummed as she licked his sheath down, eyes closed, breaths deep. When she spoke, her lips stayed pressed to his dick. “Feels nice on my tongue.” One paw gripped gripped his impending knot as her muzzle slipped down his shaft. Suckling bared flesh, she curled her tongue around his girth in leisurely licks. A faint heat dribbled against her soft palate, then down to her busy tongue. She smacked her lips with blatant enjoyment, meeting his eyes. “Tasty too.”
His tail wagged against her breasts, even as those pointy ears dipped under the weight of a blush. He watched, transfixed, as she lapped up the sides of his shaft.
Giggling, she bopped the tip against her waiting tongue, causing the large canine to twitch in pleasure. One dainty paw toyed wi
th his balls while the other waggled his erection against her lips. “You like this too, Maxie?”
“Ah…” The dog took a breath to compose himself, then managed to stammer: “Y-yeah…” He stroked her auburn hair as she suckled his bright red length. His thighs tried to close on her, but he fought to hold still, afraid she might stop. The tight confines of his sheath, stretched by arousal, hugged the growing base of his cock.
A paw supported his sac, thumb caressing thin fur with delicate care. Feeling his knot, she worked his sheath behind it, just like he’d shown her that night in bed. A brief worry that she might not remember what he liked got washed away by her supple tongue. Clear fluid dribbled down the side of his cock. Pulling off, her lips chased it, catching up just behind his canine bulge.
Ecstasy.
Max growled with passion, the first shot of orgasm racing up his shaft. No sooner had it splattered on her shoulder, than another surge of tingling tension rushed up from his balls, squirting thick cum to drip on her muzzle.
Kylie gasped, wringing him in surprise.
He bit back a howl as a small fountain of his rich canine cream coursed down his length, collecting on graceful otter paws. Blast after blast of his heavy white spunk rolled down over her fingers. She sealed her lips around his tip and sucked, tasting his salty musk, exploring the throbbing tip with all her tongue’s surfaces.
His ears, already pinned back with pleasure, sank further as he realized the mess he’d made. A deep blush glowed under his fur. “Oh! I— My— I’m, uh, sorry?”
“Settle down, silly doggy.” She examined the strings of sticky fluid on her pelt. And clothes. “Pretty sure it’ll wash out. Did I…do a good job?”
The dog slid to the floor, still dripping, tongue lolling out as he sat.
“Good.” The cum-splattered mustelid wiggled with pride. “Let me grab some paper towels.” She skipped out the door, smiling all the while.
Swathed in afterglow, the husky sat, panting. His drooping erection hung over white balls, connected to the floor by a thin strand of semen in the dusk light. In a dreamy haze, he watched as his knot faded, then shivered as his sheath slipped back over it.