by Tempe O'Kun
He smiled.
“This is temporary.” She played with the bracelet on her own wrist, so light, yet so stubbornly in place. “It’ll work out.”
“Our magically switching bodies…” He lifted an eyebrow. “…will just work out?”
“If we can survive a TV series, outsmart an alien handyman, and overcome Turkeyzilla…” She jerked a thumb toward the kitchen, where the poultry colossus had lingered in the fridge for weeks, even with a hungry husky doing his best. “…we can do anything together.”
Clad only in underpants and bobbing in a weird lutrine pool, Max felt less vulnerable and more relaxed than he’d been since the switch. He did trust Kylie. She was his partner in all this craziness.
“I know this is weird.” Kneeling, she leaned in to talk more intimately. “But we’ll be okay.”
“We waited a whole night and we didn’t switch back.” He floated in a slow spiral. “We should go back to Joe’s shed and look for clues.”
“Yeah.” She tugged the wristband. “Even your muscles can’t get these loose.”
He nodded. “We could probably cut them off, but I don’t want to damage them.”
“Or fry our brains.” She wiggled thick fingers at her cranium.
He lifted a hand out of the water to point at her. “Now you’re learning.”
“I try to listen to you, Maxie.” She winked.
A long moment of peace passed through the pool room, accompanied only by the subtle sounds of water and breath.
“I’ll let you hang out here.” She stood, seeming excessively tall. “You might try stripping down to your skivvies. Clothing is a drag.” With that, she ducked out the door and shut it after her.
Left alone in the quiet, Max floated in the pool for a time, then began idly removing an article of clothing at a time. Very little held clothing on an otter, so soon he his entire outfit sat as a wet pile at the edge of the pool. He bobbed on the subtle waves, ghosts of the currents he’d stirred up before, clad only in a sleek two-piece swimsuit. Being in his element felt good, now that he realized what it was. It seemed obvious in retrospect. It was fun. He paddled around. Frictionless ease propelled him along the surface of the water.
After a long while, he climbed from the pool and marveled at the water sloughing off his pelt. Upon toweling off, he began the long trek back to the inhabited portion of the house. He wove around stacks of boxes and draped furniture, then froze when he glimpsed his unfamiliar reflection in the large windows of the smoking room. He smirked. He’d been attracted to this body for years. The smooth curves and shiny pelt stood out all the more in his damp state and minimal clothing. Even the modest swimwear clung in pleasing ways to his body. Realizing he was perving on himself, he blushed and continued padding through the vast entertaining room. He took care not to drip water on anything delicate.
Cutting through the kitchen, he trooped back to the laundry room with the rest of his soaked clothing tucked under one arm. He tossed the wet clothes into an accumulating pile of darks on the far wall, careful not to hit Kylie’s sundress, still hanging by the dryer where he’d left it. Only then did he realize the clothes compatible with his body were upstairs. Maybe changing into fresh clothes would help him start the day over.
His still-damp paws padded up the stairs. His hands and feet reported back an unusual amount of detail on the steps and railing, compared to husky paw pads. As he reached the top, he stepped on an especially creaky board.
“That you, cork float?” A voice rang from Laura’s study.
Max froze at the top of the stairs. Not being a dog, his smell-radar was next to useless. “Yeah?”
Leaning back in her chair, Laura eyed him, as he stood in nothing but damp fur and Kylie’s underwear-slash-swimsuit. The older otter smirked. “You’re gonna give Max a heart attack, running around the house looking like that.”
Max flushed, then shrugged to Laura. “Clothing is oppression.”
She cackled, though a tinge of bitterness clung to her tone. “You never did like staying dressed. Always scandalizing the neighbors.”
Keenly aware of his immodest state, he scooted across the hall to Kylie’s room and twirled into a fluffy, pink bathrobe. He gathered his wits and poked his head into the office. “Something up? You sound a little down.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her paw lifted her lucky coffee cup, but found it empty. “I’ve just been drained lately.”
He nodded, looking for an excuse to bail. But Laura’s whiskers seemed in a particular downturn, and he decided Kylie would start chattering on at this point. Surely he could cheer her up without spilling the secret. “You—ya know, you’re cooped up working a lot.”
She tilted her head back against the chair. “I suppose I could get out a little more.”
“You’re not going to offend K—Max and me—” He feigned a cough. “—by hanging out with other people once in a while.” He swept one of his tiny paws at the sprawling mansion. “You grew up when this house had a bunch of people in it, so it’s normal for it to feel a little empty with just the three of us.”
“I know.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s just tough making new friends when you’re an adult.”
A slow nod bobbed his oddly-lightweight head. “I thought you were going to those wine-and-painting classes.”
“I did.” She rocked side to side in the office chair. “But when your last name is a local boogeyman, it dampens the mood.”
“You grew up here, though.” He jerked a webbed thumb at the window. “Aren’t there people around the area you want to reconnect with?”
“I guess. Well, one for sure.” A faint laugh crept, nervous, from her muzzle. Her gaze flicked toward town, obscured though it was by the trees. “I just don’t know if that’s a canal we want to dredge back out.”
A moment passed in silence. Max found difficulty seeing past his own discomfort to discern an awkward silence versus a thoughtful one. Would Kylie know who she was talking about? It had to be her estranged father, right? He was the only other person in the area she spoke to with any regularity. Maybe it was best to clarify. “Ya mean Greg?”
Her keen eyes scanned his posture. A slight twitch translated down her frazzled whiskers: a slight smile of bemusement. “Yes…”
He squirmed. Then he stopped squirming, worried it would signal something unintentional.
Laura snapped out of it. “Of course, that’s not the only thing distracting me.”
“Of course.” Easy response. He’d had to put it in a writing assignment for her sometime.
“I’m closer than ever to my pipe dream of securing the rights to Majestica and the Defenders of Pegastar.”
He nodded, then remembered to add more chatter. “That’s cool. That’s cool, right?”
“It is.” She sighed. “I’m just not used to this level of wheeling and dealing. Up ‘til now, everything I’ve worked on had been someone else’s property or something I got to invent. I don’t want to screw up and tip my hand.”
He straightened unruly whiskers and tried to replicate Kylie’s confident tone from yesterday. “We have lawyers in the family.”
A tiny cackle burst from Laura’s muzzle. “You’re actually suggesting Julie?”
Julie: that was Greg’s wife’s name. He shrugged. “Why not?”
Laura slumped back in her chair to examine him. “I guess you’re right. She’s handled IP contracts before.” She studied his face. “If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
He felt super uncomfortable. Trying to spread his fingers, the webbing made them feel like stretchy gloves a size too small. “Why would it?”
“You always surprise me, kiddo.” She crossed her arms. “I never can predict when you’ll have character growth.”
Max shrugged.
“I guess I’ve been too careful about anything more than polite socializing with Julie. She seems like a nice lady, not objecting to me talking to Greg in spite of our history.” Leaning out of the chair, she hugged him. She rocked
back and kicked her feet up on the battered writing desk. “You’re not just saying this so I have to drive to New Hampshire all the time, are you?”
He shrugged. “You could stand to get out more.” He followed Laura’s gaze downward and saw that his tail had begun to wag, though the stupid thing was so heavy that only the last foot or so was getting any real movement.
Laura clucked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “Been spending too much time around canines, kiddo?”
He chuckled, buying himself time to think of a sufficiently Kylie thing to say. “Hey, you’re the one who hired him.”
“Yes, I should have anticipated all this.” She nodded. “Thanks, though. Glad I managed to raise a daughter who can give me some perspective.”
A small peep of pride escaped him. He hugged her and started for his girlfriend’s bedroom. Once inside, he took a seat on her bed and contemplated the array of fishing vests in the closet with a contented sigh. He guessed he was a passable Kylie after all.
Kylie was a better Max than Max. She knew it. Or at least a more confident one. Standing in the living room, she had formulated a great plan. She could totally handle calling his mom and straightening this all out. All it would take was confidence.
The phone rang a few more times, then a soft click announced someone had picked up. “Well, this is a surprise.”
She cast her tone in cheerful determination. “Hi, Mom.”
A large electric mixer whirred in the background. “And how is my wayward son today?”
“I’m fine.” Pleasantries out of the way, she cleared her big, growly throat and barreled on. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about all these texts about me coming back home.”
“Oh, so you have been getting those.” An innocent yap echoed from the other end. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Yeah, look.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got a good thing going here and I’m an adult now. I need you to respect that.”
Seconds of silence rolled by. A cool tone breezed from the phone. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Kylie found her heavy-duty canine teeth clenched. They fit together in unfamiliar and distracting ways, like she was wearing plastic vampire fangs. Shaking off the distraction, she tried to imagine a really confident Max. “I’m just letting you know I’m going to be sticking around here.”
“I got that impression at Yuletide.” Something metal clanged in the background of the call. “Do you ever plan on visiting us again?”
Kylie stumbled over the guilt trip. “Of course I do.”
“When?” The word came through like a predator’s step in deep snow. The soft whine of a computer fan whirred through the speaker.
Glancing from side to side, the husky imposter cast about for ideas. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great plan. “I don’t know.” She shrugged, even though she knew it wouldn’t translate over the phone. “Sometime.”
“Oh.” The syllable carried every volume of the encyclopedia of social obligation. “Soon then?”
A nervous laugh escaped her muzzle, which she clacked shut. Another involuntary shrug failed to assist her. “Whenever it all works out.”
“Great! Let’s make it work out now.” The sound of paws on a keyboard clattered through the phone speaker. “Looks like there’s a deal on one-way tickets. I’ll get back to you with the details.” A smile shaped her words. “We can see what works out for everybody. Two weeks?”
“Umm—”
“Three? Three. I’ll have to call you back, Max. Customers. Duty calls, you know.” A chair scraped across the floor, counterpointed by distant voices. “But thank you for taking time out of your busy day to chat. Can’t wait to have you home.”
Straightening to her increased height, she put on her most confident voice. She could still pull this plan together. “Let’s—”
“Bye, dear! Love you bunches!” The line clicked to silence.
Kylie blinked stupidly at the little red phone icon. Okay, maybe Max wasn’t exaggerating about his mom being a conversation magician. She’d made Kylie’s carefully-prepared arguments disappear and transformed them into whatever she wanted. No wonder her boyfriend hardly said anything: he’d been trained his whole life to not give her anything to transmute.
After several minutes holding the tiny phone, she set about cooking him an apology breakfast, then realized she’d eaten that breakfast and started a new one. It wasn’t a problem, though. The whole kitchen was within arm’s reach, which made it super easy. Once she had coffee, eggs, and toast ready, she grappled with how to pick the plate and cup up. Husky paws had worse grip, but more acreage. And while giant dumb paws could only fit a couple fingers through the mug’s handle, it turned out it was possible to use non-webbed fingers a couple at a time. Armed with these new discoveries, Kylie managed to carry the meal to his room and open the door. “Hey Maxie—”
With a surprised squeak, he curled up into an otter ball under the sheets. His gaze flicked to the doorway, in the direction of her mom’s office.
With a half-suppressed laugh, she shut the door after herself, set the breakfast tray on the nightstand, and sat on the bed beside him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” At first, she thought she’d just startled him, but then a tingle of pheromone buzzed from her nose down to her crotch. “Wait, were you…?”
He buried his nose in the covers. “Sorry. I tried to lay down to chill out, couldn’t get comfortable, and then it was too warm for your pajama pants and things kind of…spiraled.”
“Sorry?” She barked a laugh. “What’d ya think I’ve been doing? Twice yesterday and once this morning.”
With a groan, he rolled over to face her. Amusement and resignation, not surprise, clung to his features—along with a lingering shyness.
She patted his flank, ignoring the fireworks in her nose. Did she always smell that good to him she was turned on?
He sat up and accepted the steaming cup, then blew over the liquid, vapor curls guttering like candles. Relaxing a little, he leaned against her.
She nuzzled atop his head, seeing now why he found it so convenient to do so. “Before we go, though…” She slipped an arm around his small body. “Don’t you have a little unfinished business?”
“Heh, I don’t know… Mood’s kind of spoiled.” He curled up against her, half in her lap. “Plus, I was just sort of messing around.”
“Yeah, and now you’ve got an expert to help you.” She slipped a paw down his side, groping the side of his jeans. Her fingertips slowed to an intimate trace, trailing over the fabric of his swimsuit-style panties. “First, ya gotta relax…”
Halfway through a groan, the noise slowed to a chittered growl of pleasure. His paw joined hers, guided to all the best places.
Sturdy paw pads brushed across the material covering his slit. His arousal clung to her paw fur, soaking to the skin with exotic speed. “Already wet, huh?” She explored his body; well, her body on loan. Her fingers slipped inside his panties.
With a distant nod, he let her take the lead. Finger web over his clit, fingers wiggling to either side.
“Ya know how I like it when you play with my nipples?” Using her muzzle, she pushed his shirt up. Her long canine tongue proved really good at licking otter nipples. “That’s why.”
Max squirmed and gasped for breath. His passage clenched around her thick fingers.
Kylie slowly let her lips lift off the pert otter nipple, giving it one final swipe of her big husky tongue. She licked her lips, watching Max’s breasts rise and fall with his labored breathing.
With a squeak, her boyfriend tensed. His limber form contorted with bliss. Then he relaxed against her. Max panted around a tiny pink tongue. This close, she could feel every breath against her throat fluff.
Once he’d caught his breath a little, she leaned down for a deep kiss. Kissing with Max’s silly dog lips impeded her efforts only for a couple seconds. She lapped at his lips, a bit less gracefully than she hoped, then n
uzzled her nose to his.
Her boyfriend moaned as her fingers slipped from his entrance. Scooting back onto the pillows, his paw settled on her crotch, detecting a major erection. He froze, not moving his fingers away, but not exploring the denim-covered length either. He squirmed. Those little round ears sank. “This is kind of weird.”
A sudden giggle overtook her. “This? This is the weird part?”
He straightened, cute but grumpy: hair mussed, breath unsteady, posture fluid. Did she look that cute after she came? She’d have to ask. Perhaps when he wasn’t looking offended.
“I’m not making fun of you, I promise.” She extended her pinky finger toward him.
“I know.” After an instant, he gripped her pinky with his own, giving her a classic Max eye-roll.
“A sticky pinky swear is the most sacred of vows in otter culture.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Still slightly dazed, he squinted at her. “You’re making that up.”
She shrugged. “You can’t prove anything.”
He wiped his hand on the sheets.
“Sooooooo.” Kylie failed to think of a reason she could put off telling him about her phone disaster with his mother. “As of about fifteen minutes ago, you’re taking a vacation back home this summer of no less than three weeks.”
“Okay…” His head tilted, ears up. “Care to explain why?”
“No.”
“Kylie…” Silence settled over him easily, as he waited her out. It took forever, which was about a second.
The confession bubbled out of her. “Because I started at zero weeks, and your mother started at two weeks, and she’s really good at negotiating.”
“She is that.” A deep sigh slumped him against the pillows. “Did she call you?”
Kylie winced. “…Someone called someone.”
His gaze kindled into a glare. “Remember the conversation we had about swimming into shark-infested waters?”
“I didn’t know she was waiting to chomp! She was prepared!” A soft woof escaped her throat. “I think she had notes!”
“I’m sure she did.” His fingers attempted to interlace, then settled for steepling. “She’s likely been rehearsing that conversion for months.”