An Otter? What’s That Mean?
“I’m thinking we could use a new otter,” was what he told me. That’s what he said at first, anyway.
“An otter? What that’s mean? Is that short for something?” I asked, curious.
I was just in for a cup of coffee. I didn’t expect to be approached by a strange gay man in a pearl snap shirt and cowboy boots. Man, how naive I used to be, looking back on it all.
It sounded innocuous enough to me, anyhow. He called me ‘boy’, in a friendly enough way, but I wasn’t catching on. I wasn’t attracted to men back then.
“You like espresso?“ he said. "Try this, it’ll put some hair on your chest,” he said, laughing, sliding a dark black cup across the counter to me.
A lot of people would have probably just blown him off, but I really believed in community and that was the whole point of Brü, definitely my favourite coffee house. Folks came to Brü because they wanted community. This guy was a little odd, but not too strange, or so I thought back then.
His espresso tasted strange to me, like it had an extra kick it in. I was trying to detect what I tasted in it, which seemed like either cardamom or nutmeg. I really wasn’t sure. "Tastes pretty good,“ I said, "what’s in it?”
“Something to bring out the otter in you,” he chuckled.
I wondered what the fuck he meant by that. Things were getting weird.
"Here, let me give you my card,“ he said, pulling out his wallet and handing me what looked like a pretty typical business card. "Give me a call when you’re feeling playful.”
I had no idea what that meant or how I was supposed to feel “playful”. In fact, I had almost forgotten I’d even met him and the entire incident, that is, until much later that night. I had energy, it felt like, despite it being close to midnight. I was feeling pretty good, as if I had much more energy than usual.
I didn’t even realise it at first because it was creeping up on me slowly enough. In a way, it was like a caffeine buzz, only I hadn’t had any coffee that late at night. I was just feeling more and more alert, up, all kinds of good.
I scratched under my arm absentmindedly, feeling a bit sweaty. I was feeling kind of happy and good overall. Then I noticed the itching didn’t go away. I scratched my pit some more until it did.
I thought I was imagining things at first, and it seemed to go away, but then the itching came back, this time in both my pits, and seemed to be spreading.
Then it was spreading fast, as if I were breaking out in hives or something, although I didn’t see anything wrong. I scratched all down my belly, my groin, my legs, and my forearms, but it just was getting worse.
I had to get out of my clothes, I thought, maybe jump in the shower and try and wash off whatever was going on with me. So I stripped down, right in the bathroom, getting ready to jump in the shower, and that’s when I noticed it.
Very, very short, almost so short you couldn’t see, I saw hairs were starting to grow right on my chest. I’d never had any chest hair before. I had always been pretty smooth, but now there was a small patch right in the center of my chest, still itching, and I scratched it, quickly checking out my pits, my legs… it was everywhere. I could see it on my forearms then.
"No,“ I said, "no fucking way.”
I almost felt like I must be imagining it, that no way such a thing could be real, but it didn’t feel like a dream. I was panicking. I didn’t want this this to happen to me. I wanted to stay the way I was. But it just kept spreading, and seemed to itch even worse the more I scratched at it.
Almost stupidly, thinking it didn’t hurt to try, I hopped in the shower anyhow, hoping I could just wash this off somehow, or at least relieve the itching. It helped a little with that, just to have the pressure of the water get my mind off it, but not really.
My pits itched, my face itched, my legs, forearms, and even my balls and the area around my dick were itching as this dark, unruly fur was popping up all over me. I could see the patch of fuzz that was starting to show up in the center of my chest was getting thicker, spreading out, and hair was popping up around my nipples, too.
The shower wasn’t really stopping it, so I turned off the faucet, stepped out and grabbed a towel. I had to figure out what was happening.
I looked in the mirror, horrified at what was happening to my body. It wasn’t visible yet, at least from not across the room, but I was still itching. I was getting furry so fast that my mind was reeling.
Then, like a surprise jolt that really startled me at first, my dick sprung up. Suddenly I was hard and I was horny.
I was feeling excited, aroused, even as my mind told me this was a nightmare. But increasingly, I was feeling really excited and turned on by whatever was happening. My dick was rock hard, bouncing up against my belly, which itched as fur was starting to snake up and down my abs in a trail.
Damn, I looked good, I thought as I looked in the mirror, and as I stepped closer to it, I could actually even start to see the developing hair coming in thick enough to show up on my reflection. How come I didn’t realise how good I looked before, I wondered. Even at that point, I didn’t yet realise my sex drive was changing.
All this beautiful otter fur that I’ve got now., it was sprouting up and making its claim on my personality for the first time. It was getting thicker. It was getting wilder. And I was getting wilder, as my throbbing cock would soon make clear.
It dawned on me then, the man’s remark, the strange-tasting coffee… I picked my underwear up off the floor, pulling them back on, and fumbled through my pants for the card and my cell, thinking I had to call the guy who had done this to me.
I sat on the lid of the toilet, looking down at my increasingly furry chest, the trail running up and down my abs, my hairier legs… as the fur was still growing in on me, spreading out up towards my neck higher now. My face was getting so furry, I noticed, and really itching now more than anywhere else. I kept scratching myself, just like an animal or something, as I struggled to keep calm, even with my briefs totally tented by this throbbing erection that would not go down.
Damn, man, it felt hot, scary, exciting, and nightmarish at the same time. I had to squeeze the shaft of my cock through my briefs, even, I thought, as I waited to see if cowboy boots man would pick up the phone. It ached. It felt so good to touch it. What the hell was happening to me?
He picked up. "Dude,“ I blurted out, "Something is happening to me. What did you give me? What the hell is going on?” I almost shouted into the phone, wanting him to know how serious and disturbing this was.
“Oh, you’ll find out everything soon, boy,” he said, laughing. “Why don’t you play with that otter cock of yours? I bet you’re getting hard, aren’t you?”
“How do you know?” I said, not wanting to confirm it for him, but I was so hard in my briefs that I even saw a drip of pre having soaked right through the white fabric where my briefs tented. I felt like a pervert and a freak, and yet at the same time was very turned on. I was still itching like mad.
“Because you’re an otter now. Just a horny motherfucking otter. That’s all you’ll ever be from now on,” he said, laughing. “See you at the clubs one of these nights. Call me if you ever want that furry otter butt of yours fucked,” he said. This was freaking me out, and I still itched like mad, so I hung up the phone. And now that he’d mentioned my butt, I realised it was itching, too.
I got up to look in the mirror again, and now the pelt on my chest was starting to be visible in the mirror, even from a distance. I turned around and pulled down my briefs so I could see, and my ass looked smooth, still. But it itched and I knew that was probably the start of fur sprouting there, too. My pits had really gotten hairy, and I had short, dense stubble all over my face.
There I was, no longer the smooth straight guy I’d been but this ottering-out guy who’d already half come into his fur, which was getting serious now, and a cock that had decided it was into this. I tried to tell myself not to touch it. I really did. I was more concerned with if my ass was getting hairy and if my chest fur was going to keep spreading out, and how hairy even my forearms looked.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to cover this up anymore unless it was with a long-sleeved shirt. And from my aching cock, I wasn’t so sure I would even want to. The fur was looking good to me, good in a perverse way I’d never felt before. I ran a hand across my pecs and down my abs and my cock just twitched with excitement over how I was feeling up my own fuzzier self in a way I never had before.
My crotch still itched, too, and using that as and excuse, I suppose, I yanked down my briefs and stepped out of them, scratching all over my bushy groin, my cock springing up hard against my abs again, leaking a trail of pre on them almost immediately, and I just gasped over that, my mouth slack.
I was practically drooling at the sight of my own drooling cock.
I’d never felt anything like this before.
Then I was wrapping two hands around my cock, and turning back to the mirror, and before I knew what I was even doing, I was jacking off, looking at my furry reflection in the mirror, jacking off hand, deep, powerful strokes on this cock that felt like a lightning rod of gay sensual desire.
I had to feel the fur in my pits, on my chest, even my legs. I stopped jacking off just to rub my hands up and down my fuzzy legs, feeling the hair on my thighs, my face, all of it.
I thought of his words, ringing through my head. “Just a horny motherfucking otter,” and it turned me on, man. It really did.
It turned me on so hard that I ended up fapping off, faster and harder, feeling my furry self, noticing that even my butt was getting dark with hair, and my face was almost a short otter beard, until I just had to shoot, man. I jerked faster and faster until I was pumping a load into the sink, grunting as I came, and then rubbing the slippery cum all over my abs and groin and chest, even. I didn’t even know what I was doing, I just knew that the cum turned me on like it never had before. And I knew already, even after all that, that I’d be wanting more. A lot more.
I showered again after that, getting the cum off me, wanting to clean up, and I was getting hard again already by the time I stepped out of the shower. My fur was dark with the water, and I rubbed it down on myself, noticing the swirls and patterns it made on my chest and legs, fascinated by what a hairy guy I was.
I had to beat off again, pumping out another load into the sink, before I left the bathroom that night. And by the time I came a second time, I had a totally hairy face and chest, a hairy butt, legs that were so hairy… man. You could see my arm hair in the mirror. I had a thick rope of hair from my pecs all the way down to this seriously bushy groin.
I was truly an otter, and as bizarre as it was, I was so into it.
I woke up the next morning with an erection again already. An otter erection.
After that, my life’s never been the same. I started chatting to guys online. I started going out to the clubs. I started buying jock straps and multicoloured underwear. I started sucking cock and I starting fucking around with guys.
I lost my otter virginity, man, drunk as a skunk and high on poppers.
I could barely even imagine that once I would have found this revolting and would have deemed it a lifestyle choice that I had no interest in.
It wasn’t a choice anymore, at least it didn’t feel that way. I was about as able to stay away from the club scene as an otter is able to resist splashing around in the water with its favourite ball. I loved the scene.
It wasn’t long until I ran into the man who did this to me. I barely even saw him come up to me, as he snuck up from the side.
“One more otter in the club scene,” he sort of whispered in a growl near my ear, and then, stepping right in front of me, he grabbed me by the hair and brought me in for a kiss. I was too stunned to do anything, so I just let him stick his tongue in, paralysed by the guy who made me into this. I even awkwardly kissed him back a little, almost by instinct, not even meaning to do it, but when a guy throws his tongue down your throat and you’re gay, how else are you going to respond?
And almost as abruptly as he’d grabbed me, he let me go, smacked me on my ass, hard, and walked away.
I won’t deny I was even kind of turned on by that, twisted as it was.
I wondered if I ever would be horny enough to fuck him. He wasn’t such a bad looking dude. I started to consider it. I didn’t want to think too deeply about it just then, though, so I went up to the bar and ordered a negroni.
He wasn’t really my type, and I had my eyes on other guys in the club, but if I run into him on another night sometime down the road, you never know, I thought.
We’ll see what happens, guys. Stranger things have occurred.
For now, I just want to get my sexy otter butt fucked by this shirtless stud in a cowboy hat I’ve been eyeing all night. Fuck. That guy could hold me down by the throat and piss on my face and I’d just beg for more and beat off the whole time he does it.
Gotta go, I think he’s coming back over towards the bar.
