Windfall: An Otter-Body Experience

by Tempe O'Kun

  The alternative universe with them as regular high school students seemed cute, though it revealed a flaw in her plan: Cassie could see the future, which meant she could foretell Serge calling out her name in a moment of passion. Kylie would have to find her own means of advancing the plot. She corrected little details as she went. His fur smelled of shampoo and safety, not just untamed canine musk. His Russian drawl was fake. In reality, Max’s only accent was a touch of cowboy around the edges, though she couldn’t blame the average fan for not knowing that.

  Another story caught her eye. Set during the camping episode, Serge had gone skinny dipping at a lake to wash the monster of the week off his fur, only to have Cassie catch a glimpse. She watched in secret as water flowed over his sculpted, fluffy body. Before long, he spotted her and cast her a sultry stare as he covered up.

  Her imagination dove into the tale, showing Max all naked and muscled and demure, but with a coy smile.

  The scene unfolded with her joining him in the lake, finding refuge from the supernatural world in the natural comfort of his embrace. At first nervous, the hot insistence of his erection grew in her paws, melting away any insecurities about his interest in her. Flowery prose followed, blooming into his confessions of passionate love for her.

  Her hips rocked against the bed. One paw sank through the sheets and down between her thighs. Still damp from the bath, matters had only gotten juicer. She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out an unassuming silk bag. From it, she drew a sleek silicone vibrator; waterproof, of course. Best of all, it made almost no noise, a quality she envied in these matters. It’d proved an excellent investment over the last few months of increasingly frequent use.

  Reading on, she teased the toy up and down her slit, then around her tender labia. She clicked it on, savoring the pleasant buzz it translated through her most sensitive regions. Deeper now, with a quiet squelch. In her mind and in the story, he entered her.

  The otter imagined him holding her close, sinking deeper and deeper into her. Her every gasp caressed his name. She worked the toy further in; its little rabbit ears vibrated to either side of her clit, sending tingles of delight through her squirming body.

  The story described her straddling his hips as he stood in the moonlit water, the night cool around them as passion burned within them. It detailed him pumping into her, worshipping her with every thrust, then clutching her close and howling to the stars as he spurted hot canine seed into her. The hot swell of canine flesh grew within her and filled her every need.

  Her body curled around the pleasure surging from her toy. Waves of bliss washed through her body as she suppressed squeaks of pleasure. She wiggled and bounced against the mattress, bucking against the dildo.

  Panting, she slumped against the bed and clicked the toy off. She shut the laptop. Her orgasm faded to a sticky memory. Webbed paws swept through the sheets, finding the bed bigger and lonelier than usual. As she rolled up in the covers, she wondered what it’d be like to have that big, probably lonely husky wrap his arms around her instead.

  A few weeks later, airline passengers hurried past, wrapped up in their own storylines. Inoffensive music echoed down the white-walled corridors, punctuated here and there by the whoosh of a jet. Her mom stood at the counter, helping Max check his luggage, which likely weighed as much as she did. He had somehow crammed three years of his life into it, all his clothes and books and memories in a green canvas duffle.

  Kylie bit her lip, trying not to make a fool of herself. Inside, though, she wanted to bounce off the walls, to bar the plane’s door, to wrap herself around his calf and insist she was luggage. But cowardice and flight regulations prevented her carrying on or being declared a carry-on.

  The husky hefted his laptop bag. “Don’t look so down, rudderbutt.” He smiled and set a wide paw on her shoulder. “We’ll only be a couple hours apart.” His other paw lifted, showing an old watch with two time-zones, already set for across the continent. “You know you can call whenever.”

  She wrung her webbed paws. “I will.”

  His eyes met hers with a quiet whine, tail still. “You okay?”

  Kylie hugged Max like it might keep him from leaving. She pulled back to look him in the eyes. Behind him, the airport metal detector gaped with gray indifference. Her gaze flicked down to his lips. She could kiss him, and the music would swell and he’d wrap his arms around her and he wouldn’t go to Montana. All she had to do was kiss him.

  She didn’t kiss him.

  He waved as he headed past the check-in and onto the plane. Final boarding calls. Kylie watched as it taxied down the tarmac and lifted off.

  Her mom put an arm over her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but looked on with the sad amusement she always got when new chapters started in life.

  The three-story monstrosity sprawled from the Bevy family’s past to Kylie’s foreseeable future. Chipping paint and battered shingles complained of years of neglect in the briny sea air. She did her best to blink away the jet-lag, then sighed. Home sweet home.

  Laura grabbed the last box and patted the trailer behind her hatchback. “Okay kiddo, I’m going to run this beast back to town. You gonna be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom.” She took the box and rolled her eyes. “It’s just a giant creepy house.”

  “Our giant creepy house. Can’t believe it’s been twenty years…” The middle-aged otter threw an arm around her daughter. “A good twenty years.”

  “Has much changed?”

  Her mother cast an eye at the woods that fringed the property. “Here’s hoping.”

  The younger otter rolled her eyes, but smiled. As far as moms went, hers was alright, if a little dramatic.

  With a final squeeze of her shoulders, her mother bounced into the seat of her hatchback, fired it up, and rumbled down the driveway.

  Kylie carried the final box inside and set it down on the cluttered kitchen table. Her mother had labeled and color-coded all their possessions, but the writing on this one had scuffed off. Curious, she sliced through the tape with a claw and peered inside. Old books, diaries, bound in ancient leather covers. She opened one and found yellowed pages flooded with strange, inky scrawls. No name, no date, just an array of strange runes.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a familiar custom ringtone. Her heart leapt as she scrambled to fish it out.

  Max Saber: {The Internet says our show jumped the shark with the ship-in-a-bottle that turned out to be a voodoo doll ship.}

  Her heart raced. Fingers fumbled over the touchscreen as she scrambled to reply.

  Kylie Bevy: {Whatever! I liked that one. And we jumped the shark with the printer that murdered people with paper cuts.}

  A moment passed. Max Saber: {Actually, that led to creative staff threatening to quit if they weren’t given more control. So in the long run, it helped.} Very talkative for one of his texts; while far from stoic, Max tended not to waste words on what people already understood.

  Kylie Bevy: {No wonder the fans like you. You’re one of them!}

  Another minute or so ticked by, leaving her twitching her foot and fidgeting with the phone. Around her, leaves rustled on wind, trees encroaching on the yard from all sides.

  Max Saber: {Miss you, rudderbutt.}

  Kylie Bevy: {Miss you too!}

  Max Saber: {Still up for me coming to visit this summer?}

  She smiled, cradling the phone between her paws. She took a moment to savor the idea that he missed her too, then tapped out her reply.

  Kylie Bevy: {Count on it. : ) }

  Groundwork

  Standing in the kitchen, Max brewed coffee and stirred crab porridge on the stove. He’d eaten hours ago, as usual. Rice porridge with shredded crab wasn’t the weirdest thing otters ate. Actually kind of pleasant, once you got past the pink color. He picked a few more pieces of crab meat from the shells, only a little unsettled at how the carapace yielded like that of an alien he’d been forced to pummel in this very room. He glanced ar
ound to the various floor scuffs and wallpaper scratches the creature had left during its attack and exit. He could probably straighten the stair railing a little more.

  His gaze crossed the kitchen table to his bedroom. Through the cracked door, Kylie lay sprawled on the bed. His bed. He smiled. He’d really lucked out, having a girlfriend who was also his best pal. Not to mention a girlfriend’s mom who didn’t get after them for sleeping in the same bed. Well, Kylie was mostly sleeping in the bed: one of her legs and most of her tail hung off in an ooze of spinal contortion. The sunlight shone off the swimsuit-like panties on her upturned rump. A soft, squeaky snore fizzled from the room.

  A knock rattled the front door.

  Kylie popped upright and whipped her head around for the source of the disturbance, whiskers bedraggled to crazy angles. With a squawk, she flailed into emergency backup PJs—the pastel unicorn seahorse ones that still fit from when she was a kid. She kept them in his room because she’d felt wasteful throwing them away. She fought her way into his shirt and pawed at her red hair, her ability to straighten it limited by the fact that otter paws are very dissimilar from combs.

  He trotted to the door, then paused with his paw on the knob. Once his girlfriend appeared halfway decent, he opened it.

  It swung open to reveal Shane and Sarah Warren, siblings across species. He saw the cat pretty frequently, since he worked with Kylie. The rabbit was a recent defection from Cindy Madison, the local dog Kylie managed to start a feud with.

  “Hey guys.” The husky cocked his head. “What’re you doing here so early?”

  “H-hey.” With an anxious wave, Sarah looked up at him. “We have some questions.”

  Without a word, Max ushered them in. Wouldn’t do to have them talk in the doorway. Not that this would be the only conversation about the supernatural in Windfall, even at this hour. He just didn’t want to be rude.

  The orange feline propped himself beside the doorframe. His grin sharp, he glanced around. “Sheesh, Kylie. I wondered what you looked like in your natural habitat.” He nodded at her disheveled hair.

  A sputter of outrage rattled up through the otter, gathering strength and threatening to coalesce into words.

  Max placed a steaming cup of coffee in her paws, with all her favorite additives.

  Sinking her muzzle into the mug, she muttered into the tan liquid.

  The cat snickered.

  Over her shoulder, the bunny pointed back toward town. “So, Joe’s house is now a crater.”

  Max nodded.

  The otter tottered up beside him. Her thumb hooked in his jeans pocket. A slight teapot whistle escaped her muzzle.

  “And Shane tells me you showed up at our house in the middle of the night asking where he lived.” The bunny leaned around Max to study his girlfriend. “Is there something you guys want to tell me?”

  Behind his most stoic face, the husky mulled over how to respond. Was it fair to lie to them about their hometown, even in the hope of protecting them? They were adults, if just barely. And they must have some inkling of the supernatural, if they were here asking about the alien Max and Kylie had tracked down, beaten up, and sent packing. Perhaps it would be best to explain a little at a time, since radical truths could be traumatic.

  Clutching her coffee, Kylie vibrated for an instant, then blurted: “Look, the tunnels collapsed, okay?”

  The bunny cast her a narrow-eyed glance. “Those tunnels showed no sign of collapsing before you went downtown.”

  “Caves collapse all the time!” She flung up her webbed hands. “Dirt is treacherous. Trust only the sea!”

  Max’s gigantic paw settled atop her head. He didn’t press down, just resting it there in hope the weight would keep her from bouncing around. She wasn’t good with mornings and would probably regret acting like a weirdo in front of the Warrens.

  His girlfriend made a low, continuous chitter, which ocellated as he wobbled her gently back and forth. She sipped her coffee with each forward motion, like a drinking bird. Each gulp seemed to perk her whiskers another fraction of a millimeter.

  “Please, excuse her.” The husky sighed. “She’s not usually up this early.”

  Shane examined his claws. “I don’t normally care about this sort of thing—”

  “Or anything.” His sister glared at him.

  He shrugged. “—but if I’m an accessory to something, I should probably know.”

  “Joe was an alien monster.” The words exploded from Kylie’s muzzle. Her coffee sloshed.

  “Ah okay.” Shane ambled across the squeaky floorboards, leveling two index fingers at them. “So if anyone asks, you’re a lunatic.”

  “What Kylie means is…” The dog’s brow furrowed in thought. He waited as long as socially possible for an excuse to show up. Nothing. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much it.”

  Sarah stood perfectly still, eyes wide. Now and then, her nose twitched in thought. Good thing the windows were shut; a stiff breeze might have knocked her over.

  Unreadable as ever, Shane sharpened his claws on the stem of a banana.

  Motion snapped back into the bunny, leaving her swaying onto the back of a chair with both hands. “You’re serious?”

  Max nodded.

  Her cotton-puff tail quivered. “Because everybody in this town lies about aliens and ghosts all the time.”

  Bouncing out from under her boyfriend’s paw, the lutrine chattered and lashed her thick tail. “If you thought this was a hoax, would you have come up here?”

  “I don’t know! There has to be a reasonable explanation.” Her fingers swept limp ears back from her face. “I can’t just accept somebody I knew wasn’t a…person.”

  “He was a person! Just not an Earthling.” Kylie tipped a webbed finger at her. “And also a huge jerk. He threatened to kill us if we didn’t give back his outer-space CD-ROMs.”

  “He threatened to kill you?” Sarah’s jaw and ears dropped. “For real?”

  “With his alien blade arms.” The otter made karate chops at the air, then dramatically punched her palm. “But Max beat him up.”

  The rabbit’s mouth hung open, buck teeth glinting in the morning light. Her ears popped up at Max. “Do you beat up monsters a lot?”

  “Only on TV.” The musclebound male shrugged. “I’d never been in a real fight before.”

  The siblings looked the towering husky up and down.

  His heavy shoulders shrugged. “People don’t really pick fights with me.”

  The Warrens blinked at the husky for a moment.

  The orange tabby turned cool eyes to Max. “So where’s Joe now?”

  Rubbing his scruff, the husky squirmed. “He’s …um…. left this world.”

  Sarah gave a little hop of alarm. “He’s dead?”

  Waving a webbed paw, Kylie dismissed the worry. “No, he just hates our planet and isn’t coming back.”

  “He made that abundantly clear.” Max rolled his eyes.

  Sarah twitched. “If he’s dangerous and wanted to leave, why’d you mess with him at all?”

  Max contemplated the classic herbivore logic: if all who go into the valley are eaten, don’t go into the valley. He’d cautioned Kylie about chasing a dangerous creature into its lair, but ultimately gone along. Had his canine instincts compelled him to take down a threat in his territory. Or maybe that was just his mom’s opinion on the matter.

  “We had to get involved!” She planted webbed fists on her hips.

  Feigning boredom, Shane batted at the pull-cord to the blinds. “If you hadn’t gotten involved, would we still be living down the block from a sinkhole?”

  “Actually, it would’ve been way worse if I’d done what I wanted.” Kylie’s muzzle scrunched up. “This is coming out wrong.”

  The steps creaked. Laura waddled down the stairs on fuzzy slippers. “Oh wow. You have friends—” She tightened her bathrobe. “—over.”

  Kylie cast her a dirty look.

  The older otter tossed her webbed
fingers slowly into the air, hoping to dispel any offense.

  Pouring her a cup of black coffee, Max smirked. “Affirmative. Out.”

  The middle-aged television writer took the mug, rolled her eyes at both of them, and shuffled away. Ascending the staircase, she raised the drink in salute. “Good to see you, guests. I’m off to become presentable.”

  Sarah watched her go, then turned to Kylie with a whisper. “Does your mom not know?”

  The shorter otter scoffed. “She’s trying really hard not to know.”

  “But she wrote the TV show!” Sarah hopped in quiet outrage.

  Kylie groaned. “All part of her decades-long not-knowing campaign.”

  Another agitated twitch of her tail poof, then she spun to face her brother. “Shane, can you believe this?”

  “I mean, yeah. Probably.” He yawned. “Fits the evidence I’ve seen.”

  The rabbit punched her brother in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me it was real?”

  He rubbed his arm. “I told you a bunch of times it was real.”

  “You acted like it was no big deal, so I thought you were lying!”

  “Like how you don’t listen when I tell you not to mess around in the old mines?” The faintest ember of emotion glowed in his voice.

  Max’s ears perked to attentive triangles. He locked eyes with his girlfriend. Awake and obviously entertained, she cocked an eyebrow to indicate they should wait and see where this was going.

  “I know what I’m doing.” Sarah crossed her arms. “I’m perfectly safe.”

  “Except you don’t and you’re not. Except your entire family has told you your entire life not to go into those mines.” A spark of uncharacteristic anger hissed in his voice, like water on hot metal. “They’re unstable.”

  “And apparently full of monsters.” She pointed back down the hill toward town.

  “Not anymore.” The short otter swayed back and forth in thought, then grinned with pride. “Just sayin’.”

  The bunny rounded on the couple. “So, this is what you guys do?” She flipped her fluffy paws into the air at either side. “Show up in a town and hunt monsters?”