by Tempe O'Kun
“I’m not letting you go.” She started chucking wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. “You know how to fold fitted sheets.”
Phone in her paw, Laura waddled into the room. “That’s the spirit, kiddo.”
The dog shrugged. “We have a very laundry-centered relationship.”
“All the best long-term relationships are based on linens.” Somewhere, through a tinny speaker, a crowd laughed. “Or so I’m told.” The same unseen crowd hooted and catcalled.
Kylie jabbed an accusing finger at her mother’s mobile phone. “You promised to delete that sitcom soundboard app!”
“I know. It’s just so much easier than actually writing for television.” Laura pressed another button and her phone made a crowd’s worth of sad, sympathetic clucks and murmurs.
“Mom!” The younger otter swiped halfheartedly at the device. “I will revoke your phone privileges.”
Laura lifted the device out of her daughter’s reach. “I revoke your privilege-revocation privileges.”
Max glanced at the phone, just above eye-level. He could intervene, but didn’t want to be pushy. That was a bad look for a guy bigger than everybody else. Besides, he was thinking. He wasn’t the quickest on the uptake with personal issues, but Laura usually just snarked at her daughter; these shenanigans were atypical. Probably a side-effect of being cooped up in the house. She used to go out with friends, or even on dates, but both had stopped when she moved across the continent. Maybe she needed social contact beyond the two of them. He tried to think of a way to mention that, again without seeming pushy. One didn’t spring to mind.
As a means of truce, Laura stuffed the phone in her pocket. Then she looked around the room. “Kylie dear, you seem to be doing an awful lot of laundry. Is something the matter?”
“Yeah, Mom. I’ve been having these weird responsible feelings.” Kylie reached for another fabric softener sheet, but found only an empty box. She hopped for a top shelf, but couldn’t reach the new box.
Much as he liked watching her bounce, he lifted her up. Her curvy body provided just the right kind of handholds to grip her by the waist.
With an elegant arch of her entire body, she plucked the box off the shelf. Once she was back on the floor, she popped up on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Maxie.”
He wagged.
Laura hit another sound-effect button. Mawkish swooning filled the room.
Kylie groaned. “Mother.”
“I’m going. I’m going.” Laura waved a webbed paw. “I’m off to the gardening store.”
Max’s ears flicked. Laura’s preferred flower store was a big nursery in the next town, and travel time alone would keep her out of the house for more than an hour. He turned his attention back to Kylie, plans beginning to form as he watched her sway like seagrass in her simple sundress.
“They have a sale on water plants. Need something for the reflecting pool.” She waddled off and cut through the dining room. Her keys jingled. “Don’t burn down the house while I’m gone. I’m still looking for a good insurance policy.”
Her daughter grumbled. “It’d just go out when it hit all the pools in the east wing.”
“See that it does.” The front door opened and shut. A few seconds later, her car started up and puttered away.
Kylie shook her head. “She’s so weird.”
“Of course she is.” The dog chuckled and folded a pair of jeans. “She’s basically an older version of you.”
“Hey! I’m no Mom-clone, mister.” She squawked and shook a wet sock at him. “Are you just a smaller version of your mom?”
Max looked back and forth between his broad shoulders. “If anything, my mom is a smaller version of me.”
She propped her fists on her hips. “How’d that happen, anyway?”
“My paternal grandmother is a timber wolf.” He held up a paw at grandmother height, far above Kylie’s head.
“That’s what every husky in Hollywood says so they can get wolf roles.” Her thick tail bopped his knee while she reached to pull clothes from ever-deeper in the washing machine. “You’re probably just a mutant.”
“Then you’re dating a mutant.” He placed the last of her dry clothes in the basket in a neat stack, then stood.
“Well, thanks for using your mutant powers to help me.” Her clawed hands made lightning-shooting gestures at the folded laundry.
The dog shrugged. “I like being useful. It’s why I let you climb on me to reach things.”
“You’re not just a mobile step-ladder.” She folded his arms around her, then nuzzled his chest. “You’re my boyfriend.”
He nodded and squeezed her supple otter body. Her breasts pressed to him, as streamlined as the rest of her.
She wiggled up him to tuck her sleek head under his chin. “I’d want you as my boyfriend even if you couldn’t fold fitted sheets.”
He wagged. He still felt gigantic and intimidating sometimes, but not around her. She sure seemed to like that he was powerful. She trusted him. He smiled.
Kylie smiled back at him, bounced up to kiss him, and then spied something at the bottom of the washer and eeled from his arms to grab it. In a single, fluid motion, she oozed over the lip of the washing machine and into it. Her rump waggled, feet off the floor, as the otter struggled to reach some garment at the back of the device. That powerful tail swayed and lashed, sticking straight backward in the air while she sought her prey.
With a playful wag, the husky placed a paw about halfway up her tail. “Well, hello there.”
“Hey!” She struggled in the tight space. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just enjoying your rudder-butt, rudderbutt.” He caressed the ample curve of her bottom through the think cotton of the sundress.
Her legs kicked at air. “Oh, so Mom leaves the house and you just start groping me?”
He woofed a laugh. “You grope me all the time!”
“Well, yeah.” She echoed from inside the washer drum. One webbed foot pressed off his leg as she tried to navigate inside the machine. “Otter paws are naturally grabby.”
He rolled his eyes, then noticed the hem of the dress as her inclining tail lifted it higher. “Are you not wearing panties?”
Her tail dropped, and a paw lashed up to gesture at him. “I’m outta clean ones!”
Gripping her by the tail, he raised it, exposing her naked crotch. The faint pink of her flesh, the creamy white of her underbelly fur, the green and yellow of her dress: it all painted a pretty picture. His free hand traced down her tail, her rump, her inner thigh…
“You scoundrel!” Her powerful tail wiggled, not quite breaking his grasp, just enough to object to the teasing.
His fingertips traced up and down her slit. Teasing claws traced along the thin fur of her pubic mound. Tender paw pads worked to spread her lips.
Her toes splayed. Her tail trembled in his grasp. Squeaky whimpers echoed into the room. “N-no fair, Maxie! Let me outta the washing machine if we’re gonna get dirty.”
The husky chuckled and had mercy on his lover. Gently, he angled her down and free of the washer. He took extra care not to squish her boobs against the side or bump her head on the central pillar. As her feet reached the floor, he watched as the sundress fell to a modest position. “Better?”
She twirled to face him and poked him in the chest with one webbed finger. “You great hulking horndog! Teasing an innocent little otter while she’s trying to do responsible adult things!”
“I’ll give you an adult situation.” He pulled her close, cradling her slender curves as he deepened the kiss. The cotton of her sundress ran soft under the pads of his fingers as he slid a paw up her belly to cup her breast, squeezing it through the flimsy barrier. She arched into his touch with the sweetest little mewl, and he rumbled in satisfaction to find she wasn’t wearing a bra, either.
“Max…” She breathed against his muzzle, only to hiss in pleasure and cling tighter to him as he brush
ed his thumb across her hidden nipple. “Maxie, we’re supposed to be getting the clothes clean, not making them all wrinkly.”
He blinked, hesitated, hand lifting just a little off her chest.
“I didn’t say stop, silly dog.” She guided his hand up, across her throat, to where her sundress tied behind her neck. “Help me with this?”
His large paws carefully unfastened the back of her dress. He lifted it over her head, figuring the girliness of a garment was inversely proportionate to its durability. With care, he placed the garment atop the washer.
Arms raised like an Olympic diver about to take a plunge, she wiggled proudly in her nudity. What little modesty otters started with had vanished when they’d started dating. Smiling, she draped webbed paws on his chest. “And it’s just as well because I need to get changed for work and —oh look— all my clean clothes are right here.” She swept a paw at the hamper of clothes he’d folded, then smiled sweetly up at him. “Lucky me.”
Reaching forward, he let that smirk draw him in. Even as friends, they hadn’t been very shy about touching each other. She’d started it, of course. Otters were pretty handsy with people they liked. But he’d picked it up. Gripping her flanks, he picked her up too, without even bending down.
Surprise chattered from her round muzzle. Her lithe form wriggled, relying on his strength to keep hold of her, even as her feet left the floor.
With little effort, he placed her on the dryer. His whole life, he’d tried not to call attention to his size, his strength. It spooked people. But, with a small and trusting girlfriend, he could show off a bit. It made her wiggle with glee in a way he found very enticing. He knelt before her and nuzzled her knees apart. Following the scent of her arousal, he traced along her sleek thigh fur. His nose bumped the warmth and moisture of her tender slit and he set to licking. The laundry room, warm before, now felt positively hot.
She watched him work with avid interest. Chitters of pleasure rattled through the laundry room. Her hips rocked, testing out positions. Her sleek legs traced over his shoulders and down his back. That powerful tail swept back and forth along his chest.
His tongue danced over her clit in spirals and sweeps. Moisture collected on his chin as it grew all the harder under his attentions. He reached up and pressed the start button. The dryer shook. Either the machine was especially powerful or she hadn’t properly balanced the load again. As he contemplated which was more likely, he redoubled his efforts at lapping inside her.
The vibration shook right through the otter and into her moans. “Uh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h…” Her silky folds trembled against his mouth.
Max kept licking. That seemed to be the trick with Kylie. Lucky for both of them, dog tongue lapped the competition. He slipped his tongue as deep as he could into her, trailing along her sensitive walls. Her scent, once obscured by laundry, intoxicated him.
The otter unleashed a squeak like the world’s loudest door hinge. Her thighs squeezed on the sides of his head, then bounced up and down. Her feet pressed on his shoulders. That supple body strained against the dryer’s control panel, tilting the whole machine back with the force of her orgasm.
Licking along at the same speed, even as his head jostled around by her orgasm, the husky stayed focused. His paws gripped her rump. Best not to let her wiggle off the machine.
Kylie trembled back down onto the shaking dryer. Her arms, legs, and tail fell limp. Her muzzle hung open, breasts rising and falling. After a minute of panting, her eyes opened. She reached down and stroked his ears.
His eyes met hers. His tail wagged. He nuzzled her inner thigh.
Bundled up in the forgotten dress, her phone rattled against the sheet metal lid of the washer.
The canine stood and offered her a paw.
She took it and let him pull her forward. With a lazy grumble, she oozed off the shaking machine and onto her feet. Groping at her balled-up dress, she reached into the limited pocket real estate and drew out her phone. “Huh. Shane wants me to cover for him.”
He cocked an ear.
The small lutrine pushed his shoulder. “We have to keep up appearances that it’s a functional store.” She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “He has some meeting later.”
Straightening, the canine gave a deferential nod.
“Aww, hey. Are you sure?” She groped the front of his jeans, now quite tented. “Washing machine’s still going.” One webbed paw patted the appliance. “I bet you could bend me over it…” Her teeth traced over her lower lip as she wiggled in front of him. “…I bet you could finish before it does.”
A blush flared up under his snowy fur. It was really tempting, but he didn’t want to keep her from work. “We can do something tonight, rudderbutt.” He traced a paw along her jawline. “I don’t want you to be late.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t care very much, but Shane needs me to cover the last few hours of his shift. Has some kind of meeting he has to go to. And then he and Sarah are getting conscripted for some kind of family chore bonanza. They’re replacing all the grippy traction stickers on the cave walkways this afternoon.”
He nodded. Since defecting from her position as Cindy’s minion, Sarah had found Kylie a superior friend. Which made sense: Kylie was pretty great. “I’ll walk you down.”
Smiling up sweetly, perhaps still a bit euphoric from orgasm, she took his much larger paw in hers. She bounced up to nuzzle his cheek. “Aww, you just wanna be with me?”
He wiped her juices from his whiskers. “That and I owe Karl a duel in Mana Clash.”
“I see.” She made dramatic, little card-dealing gestures. “Being a wizard is your real priority.”
He threw an arm around her slim shoulders. “You weren’t complaining about my magic a minute ago.”
A spring evening rolled in on a light mist, spreading through the streets of Windfall. In the town’s only game shop, a small spaced crammed with comic books, Max stood, playing a card game with the excitable rhino. Board games and role-play books lined the walls, along with the occasional promotional sword. Mylar-bagged snacks perched on shelves overhead, like balloons strewn with exotic lettering. Glitter dice sparkled in a gumball machine. Before the husky spread a wizard duel’s worth of Mana Clash cards on the countertop.
Behind the counter, a plump and cheery rhino watched him with a mixture of trembling glee and nervous anticipation. The card stock rectangles nearly vanished in his armored hands. His dark eyes flicked between his options and the table situation, mapping out options.
A brown bat in a purple “This Side Up” tank top dangled from an exposed pipe on the ceiling. She alternated between pushing down her large glasses and quietly munching sour gummy worms. “I seriously never see cards this old.”
Max glanced down at the cards; his looked faded, not due to abuse, but older printing technology. “I’ve been out of the loop for a few years.” He studied his hand. He should’ve added more Mana-Bird Eggs to the deck. “And I mostly got cards when I was little.”
Her shirt stirred by the nearby ceiling fan, Rune looked him down and up. “Hard to imagine you ever being little.”
“Yeah, it gets harder for me to imagine every year.” He played another realm card, then summoned a grey-muzzled constable. Then he tapped a giant cowering acid-hound to sniff out more realm cards. The dog’s thick knuckles knocked on the glass countertop. “Done.”
Blinking, Karl paused to study the card, like a museum curator studying some long-misplaced exhibit. Half the cards Max played were printed before the rhino entered kindergarten, bought with the dog’s grade-school allowance. The rhino squinted at the tiny text. “These textured backgrounds make it hard to read.”
“Back when the game only had 300 cards, you didn’t need to read as much.” In the canine’s pocket, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, thinking it might be another Howl notification about an excess of BBQ ribs. But, alas, the screen showed a text from his mom. Another text about how nice it would be if he moved back to Montana. He
sympathized: she didn’t like having him so far away. Family was important. Kylie and Laura were family to him too, though, and they needed him more. Plus, they didn’t push him around about it. He stuffed the phone back into his jeans pocket and tried to get his thoughts back on the game. His opponent didn’t seem to have noticed, still reading the walls of tiny text on his cards.
Dangling by one foot, the bat finessed a lemon-shaped coin purse from a cargo pocket. The cuffs of her pants clung in place, elasticized, as she plucked out a fiver and fluttered it on the counter like a falling leaf.
The rhino popped the cash register drawer and glanced to her. “What’ll it be, Rune?”
“More worms, please.” She swung back and forth happily. “And could you get—?”
“—whatever one feels like it has the most sour powder.” He dropped the packet of candies in her wing fingers. “Already had it set aside.”
With a peep of excitement, she bit the bag open before he finished counting her change.
Max smiled. He tried not to come during crowded times, but Karl’s friends seemed pleasant enough. “Your name’s Rune? That’s pretty cool.”
Her ears flicked up, bashful. “It’s Prunella, actually. But, yeah, everybody calls me Rune.”
The rhino snorted, grinning. “Except her family.”
Max raised an eyebrow. The three sat in silence for a couple seconds, accompanied only by the whir of an air conditioner.
Surrendering hope the topic might be bypassed, she rolled her eyes and fidgeted with the packet of gummy worms. “They still call me Prunie.”
After a moment’s consideration, he decided a commiserative nod was the right reaction. “That’s rough.”
She offered an upside-down shrug. “You are who you are, ya know? Your family has seen your whole version history, so it’s hard to become someone else to them.”
The canine nodded. “I’m in the middle of that too.”
Rune smiled and tossed a sour gummy worm into her muzzle, then caught it with smooth skill. Traces of sugar lingered on her fuzzy nose.