Windfall: An Otter-Body Experience

by Tempe O'Kun

  Her chitter of amusement melted into a sultry laugh. “Big sexy doggy.” By the light of Max’s dick, the lutrine scurried up her lover and wrapped her legs around his waist. After a brief but chittery squabble with her skirt and panties, she managed to reach a paw down to guide his cock in. Heat and moisture met her already-eager slit. A waggle of her thick tail rocked her hips, sinking onto him an inch at a time. The texture of the condom was a little grippier than his naked cock. This might have been a problem had she not been fairly wet already.

  His strong arms held her easily off the floor. Delicate whiskers mingled with her own. Those green fabric dinosaur claws gripped her rump, rocking her hard onto his harder dick. Heavy balls dragged across her tail base. “Uhh! Mmm! Yeah!”

  “Keep going!” She gasped as that thick canine cock buried in her slippery little otter passage. Every time he hilted in her, the surge of fullness drove a squeak from her throat. The grippy texture of the condom dragged in and out of her tender folds. Her paw dove between them to rub at her clit. The sensitive webbing rolled over her even-more-sensitive nub. Her passage clenched around him. “Nghh! Take me, Maxie. Oh!”

  With a roar any dinosaur would’ve been proud of, he gripped her hips and buried his phosphorescent length in her. Even through the condom, she felt the swell of his knot, getting bigger with every heartbeat. He growled into her shoulder. “Hhhhrrrrrrrrh!!”

  With a heavy moan, the otter gasped. Her tail bucked, swinging her hips hard onto his spurting dick. Head thrown back, her red riding hood fell back from her flattened ears. Pleasure coursed through her body. Instinct caused her to clutch at her lover. Her hips wiggled against his, riding as far as his knot allowed, wringing every possible pleasure from her stuffed-full climax. “Mmm…”

  For long, loving minutes, they leaned together against the wall. His breaths slowed against her ear. Tension evaporated, even as her body tingled with energy. She couldn’t believe what they’d just done, what they were still doing, but it felt incredible. Of all the emotions she was feeling, fear was still there, but it was far down the list. Her webbed paws stroked along his broad back, feeling him pant. Just as she started to wonder if his legs would give out, she felt his knot slip free. A final gasp passed between them as she struggled to ease down without tripping them both.

  The faint light returned as he pulled free, then pulled the rubber off his length and tied it to prevent spilling. “At least there’s no mess to clean up.”

  Her panties slid helpfully back over the sticky fur of her mound in a sweep of unexpected sensation. Giddy, Kylie giggled. “We’re not gonna use it to light our way home?” She straightened her panties, lips wet, but far from the usual dripping. Normally, his thick canine seed would be running down her tail at this point.

  “I don’t feel the need for my jizz to guide us.” Once Max got his junk sorted away, he gave her a quick kiss and leaned to her ear. “We’d better go.” He placed a palm on the crash bar and popped the door open. “I don’t want to explain why this whole place smells like sex now.”

  As they stepped outside, the otter bobbed around him with a bubbly giggle. “Want to catch up with Shane and Sarah?”

  “Nah, let’s text them and head home.” He pulled her close, ducking his muzzle into her hood to nibble at her ear. “I still really, really want to see you take that costume off.”

  Kylie chittered in anticipation. As the door closed, she caught a glimpse of dull metal in the moonlight, a flash of a familiar face. She stopped the door, leaning back inside to look more closely. On the wall hung an old bronze plaque with an embossed portrait of a sea otter with bushy whiskers and a cheery smile.

  In memory of Edith Jetsam

  1942-1986

  Died installing an unauthorized aquatic component to the annual haunted house. We honor your dedication, if not your methods.

  Kylie let the door shut, hiding the plaque. She stood on the narrow concrete step, mind buzzing, something cold twisting in her chest.

  “Hey, something wrong?” Max looked down at her with concern on his muzzle, phosphorescent condom dangling in his grasp.

  “No…” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She took his paw and walked from the alleyway.

  Home for the Holidays

  Airports were loading screens, Max decided, rather than real places. You could land in the airports of a thousand cities and leave without any local dust in your fur. You had to step outside for that. They even smelled like nowhere: cheap coffee, cleaning agents, and hasty departure. The crowd he pressed through as politely as possible, a feat made easier by most species tendency to get out of a two-meter canine’s path. They all scrambled along to their connections, their own plot lines. His girlfriend buzzed rapid-fire messages at the phone in his paw.

  He felt sore. Airline seats were not designed for him, though no cubs had been seated behind him to dab jam on his tail, which was nice. Hefting bags stuffed with collectible card games, he walked out the main doors. A crisp breeze traced his nose, nothing compared to the winds of Montana. People complained about the wet chill here, though the husky’s thick fur protected him from that pretty well. He’d brought waterproof winter clothing as a concession to his mother, in a bid to distract from her demands that he come back for every holiday and eventually just stay on the farm. It didn’t work. He hadn’t found a good time to mention the supernatural reality he confronted with his former castmate.

  A silver-blue hatchback puttered up somewhat faster than necessary, braking to emit a smiling otter. “Maxie!” She rounded the car and crashed into his chest with a hug. “Hey!”

  “Hey rudderbutt.” With a wag, he lifted the chittering otter in his arms. Her delicate scent swept his mind through a thousand tender moments in her company. She felt fluffier than he remembered, maybe even silkier, but he had been gone a couple weeks.

  “Check it out!” She twirled against him and fluffed her chest toward him. “My winter coat grew in!”

  Max glanced around at the passing passengers. Most of them were jet lagged enough not to notice if he touched his girlfriend’s chest fluff.

  Before he could quite make contact, the car behind hers honked, sending the otter into the air. She scrambled for purchase, then shook a webbed fist at the impatient airport patron. “I’m having a reunion here!”

  Through the windscreen, the driver, a panther in a flowery blouse, raised thick paws in a gesture of not understanding. Beside her, two cubs clawed and bit at each other, their murderous efforts hampered by booster seats.

  “Ugh! Fine!” Kylie scrambled back into the car.

  Max placed his luggage in the back and sat in the passenger’s seat. The car sank a centimeter or two. Clods of wet snow smacked on the windscreen as they navigated the maze of parking lots. The car only got stuck once, and it only took a steady push to dislodge it. The highway, better-plowed, passed under them uneventfully.

  She very pointedly didn’t look at him. “Been enjoying the pictures?”

  He felt a flush under his fur. “Nightly.”

  “I hope you’re not threatened.” Her hazel eyes flicked to him, then back onto the road. A smile rose on her muzzle like the tide.

  His paw came to rest on her thigh. “Happy for the help on team ottergasm.”

  “Oooh. That’s good to hear.” She wiggled in the driver’s seat. “You inspired the purchase, ya know. I needed something to get me through three weeks without you.”

  The husky nodded with pride. “I suspected as much.”

  “Remember that night you were stuck in your uncle’s vacation powerpoint and we were texting the whole time?”

  He straightened in his seat. “You were using it then?”

  “Mmm, the whole time.” Her giggle lifted his ears. “In your bed.”

  “That’s…interesting.” Max nodded, feeling quite lively in spite of the long flight. He adjusted himself in the seat and tried to rein in his imagination. “Couldn’t tell by the glow of the glow-in-the-dark dildo.”r />
  “I left it in your dresser, in case the hallway nightlight goes out.” She changed lanes and cast him a sparkle of a look. “Not that I’ll be needing it now that I’ve got the real thing back.”

  The husky rolled his eyes, then rubbed his paw back and forth on her thigh. He’d missed her in so many ways.

  “Not that I’m opposed to sharing.” She bit a mischievous smile as she snuck him another glance.

  “That’s…not something I’d ever given any thought to.” Picturing the dildo, he did some geometry in his head.

  She snickered. “I have.”

  “Of course you have.” He shook his head. “Maybe, if I can get a little familiar with it first.”

  “Well!” Her eyebrows rose, then she flicked on the turn signal and ease over to the off-ramp. “Go team ottergasm.”

  Exiting the highway, they cruised through the streets of Windfall. A cascade of lights and decorations swept past in a blur. The town square boasted an array of pop-up businesses, including a roasted nut pavilion staffed by a tussle of squirrels. At the entrance to Bourn Holt, a small aquatic automobile perched alongside the road, with evidence of several attempts to motor up the hill. With several centimeters of snow on its roof, the Amphicar keeled halfway into a ditch.

  His eyebrows drifted up. “Speaking of things wedged into places they aren’t designed for…”

  “It’s designed for water, not snow. Couldn’t get up the hill.” She winked at him. “Got down it really well.”

  “I bet.” He resolved to haul her little car back to the house as soon as weather allowed. “So, what’s it going to be like?”

  “The usual Yuletide celebrations, plus Max, equals great.” She squeezed his paw.

  He wagged in the confines of the seat’s tail slot. His family might have tried to guilt him into staying, but now that he was half a continent away, he could relax with his girlfriend and learn more about her ottery ways. “Sounds relaxing.”

  “Any previous year, yes.” Kylie gave a quiet sigh. “Mom’s got this crazy scheme in mind where all the relations come over.”

  The husky calculated how many otters could fit in Bourn Manor and quickly found it came to more than he could imagine. “We do have the space.”

  “Yeah, but I barely know them.” A glum look fell on her rounded muzzle. “Mom remembers everybody from back when she grew up here.”

  He nodded. “Well, everybody older than us.”

  “I just…” Her webbed fingers gripped the steering wheel. “Bourn Manor’s only starting to feel like home. I feel weird about having a whole extended family sail in there to remind me how I don’t know anything about it.” She stared out into the fading day, almost the shortest of the year. “The things I’ve found out about it haven’t all been great thus far.”

  “Except the family tradition of monster hunting. That’s kinda rad.”

  She smirked at the winding road leading into the property. “There is that.”

  “The trouble with families is they’re composed of people.” He patted her knee. “People are complicated.”

  She smirked at his wisdom. “Well, if she does summon a horde of otters down on us, I’m sure she’ll find some use for a big strong dog.”

  “Finally, something she and my mother agree on.” He stretched his still-sore muscles within the confines of the car. “And what about you?”

  She pulled into the driveway. Bourn Manor hunched under its many-sloped roof, the overhangs of snow giving it a resentful air. His girlfriend parked the car and popped up to smooch his cheek with a cheery chitter. “I’m sure I can think of a use for you too.”

  Snow tumbling serenely around her, Kylie watched as her boyfriend chopped firewood. As a husky, the winter chill had little visible effect on him. She, on the other paw, wore several layers of insulation and only felt remotely warm because her hunky boyfriend had just taken off his shirt. Her booted feet stamped to keep the blood moving.

  Heavily muscled and slowly panting, Max brought the axe down with tireless ease. Must be nice to be gigantic. He was twice her weight and mostly muscle, even under all that fluff. The halves of the log spiraled off the stump. His heavy paws lifted another log out of the snow and set it atop the low, ancient stump. Another swing split the piece cleanly.

  “You’re pretty good at that for a city kid.” Webbed fingers wiggling in her mittens, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Har har. I’m still a farm dog, thank you.” With a crack that echoed through the woods, he split another log. “Being on your mom’s TV show didn’t erase all my outdoor knowledge.” Those sky-blue eyes flicked to her. He paused and leaned on the axe. “Rudderbutt, you don’t have to be out here if you’re cold.”

  “Are you kidding?” Her ears popped up inside her stocking cap. “First winter coat, remember? What’s the point if I don’t use it?”

  His gentle gaze swept over her. “You are looking fluffier.”

  “We can’t all be immune to the cold by default.” She wiggled her head a little, remarking at the novel sensation of added insulation. “Besides, watching you exert yourself shirtless is my favorite hobby.”

  The dog rolled his eyes and got back to work.

  After another ten minutes or so, he finished chopping a large pile of logs. She picked up an armful of firewood. Throwing his shirt over his shoulder, he picked up three times as much. Here and there, clumps of snow tumbled from branches in silence. They tromped back through the woods to her sprawling ancestral home. Across its various roof slants, the structure bore the weight of the snow with stern indifference. Colorful lights blinked on the deck railing, diffused by a layer of fresh powder, providing an island of multicolored cheer against the gloomy bulk of the mostly-empty building.

  Paused on the front steps, the otter studied the unusual glow. She’d have thought of it as alien, but the only alien she’d met favored sickly yellow light. “Neat. I’ve never seen lights under snow before.”

  “The magic of LEDs.” Crunching up the walk behind her, he stopped too. “My parents still have giant incandescent lights. They just melt their way free.”

  The pair entered Bourn Manor. Stamping their boots clean, they crossed the living room and set the firewood by the hearth. Festive knickknacks glimmered atop dark wood shelves. A pine tree had been crammed into the living room, the top bough bent against the ceiling. They’d only reclaimed a fraction of the maze-like old mansion, the part her mom called “the old house,” since it had been the mother mushroom from which the rest of the dwelling had sprouted.

  Mutters and clatters rattled from the kitchen. Her mother unpacking additional Yuletide cheer, no doubt. Maybe some more of those glass buoy lights.

  His big paws brushed bits of bark off his arms and into the hearth. A smile found his muzzle as he looked to his girlfriend. “What do you guys do for the big dinner?”

  “A giant salmon.” Her mouth watered at the idea of the flakey pink delight. The saliva felt cold, another unexpected side-effect of a real winter. “We always have one. We’ll have to get an extra-giant one since you’re here.” A wiggle of excitement shimmied up her body.

  He suppressed a snicker.

  “What?” She eeled right up into his face. “You dare laugh at my people’s traditions!”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He bumped his nose to hers, his breath warm. “That’s just very ottery.”

  She bounced up to kiss him, then settled easily into his arms. “You’re okay? Your family’s not going to come drag you away?”

  “They’d never find us in this maze of a house.” He patted the base of her tail. “Don’t worry your rudderbutt, rudderbutt.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Kylie rolled her eyes. She had a slight tendency to obsess and knew it. Being from a long line of monster hunters and a short line of TV producers, she at least came by it honestly.

  With another kiss, the canine trotted backward toward the door. “I’m going to bring in the last of the firewood.” His furry bulk slipp
ed out the front door, trying to minimize the roll of winter air entering the house.

  Slithering past the dining room, the younger otter swung into the kitchen, hanging off the doorframe with one paw, feeling painted-over scratches under her webs.

  The middle-aged river otter chattered grumpily as she fired off a few quick texts, then stuffed the phone back in her pocket.

  “Hey Mom?” She kept her voice casual. “What would you say to a turkey?”

  “Hmm.” Laura stood from rifling through old boxes of exotic pots and pans. “Probably: ‘I have no idea how to cook you.’” Setting aside a large roasting pan, she crossed her arms under her breasts. “But I’m happy to try for the sake of our resident husky.”

  Happiness wiggled down her supple form. “Thanks Mom.”

  “You won’t miss the braised salmon?” The elder otter leaned forward and tapped a claw on the pan lid.

  “Well yeah, but we’ll just have it next week or something.” She tried to play it casual. No sense in handing her mom more to tease her about. “You haven’t bought it yet, right.”

  “I haven’t.” She flipped the flaps of a box closed with her toe. “And I suppose someone somewhere on the Internet has posted turkey-baking advice…” She pulled a phone from her pocket and started searching.

  Kylie nodded. That was easy. Maybe she’d do a couple other little things to help him feel at home.

  Weeks passed and a festive air permeated the house on the tailwinds of an evergreen pine. Seated on his bed, browsing the Internet, Max swore off social media after a sustained barrage of his family’s holiday photos: bonfires, tobogganing, feasting all the relations. Had they posted this many pictures previous years? He’d been tagged in all of them and appeared in none. It had to be a psychological operation by his mother. Ears perking at a burst of otter profanity, the dog looked up from his laptop. A blend of spicy scents had been seeping under the door for the past hour, keeping him from finishing any of Laura’s writing assignments. He rose, opened his bedroom door, and padded across the entryway to the jingles and clamor in the kitchen.