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Dribbling a football back and forth between his sneakers Shia kept the ball bouncing and sliding from side to side. Catching it with one foot he looked along the path as it split in two. On the left it wove down the hill into the river valley and to the right it continued up the hill to the peak.

Shaking his head the black and white fox turned from the hill and started to down. His feet darted from side to side as he moved, keeping the ball bouncing and rolling but under his control at all times. It felt good to be out of the town, away from the concrete streets and tarmac roads and just enjoy the countryside. Dressed in rugby shorts and a round necked football shirt the warm summer air didn't really bother him.

His clothing was airy, his sneakers where new and double laced around his ankles for support. He had a ball, he had the sun, all in all it was a good day. As he crossed the base of the hill onto the flat path that ran along the ridge between the woods on the right and the river bank on the left he paused to bounce the football back and forth between his feet. Left, right, dodge, kick, bounce, roll and back again to dribbling it back and forth with controlled kicks and taps of his feet.

It was like a dance, at least Shia liked to think so. Keeping the ball bouncing like this was an art, the foot movements, the fine control it was a skill and he'd been practicing it for years. So it was even more galling when half a mile down the path he kicked it at an exposed route and misjudged the rebound. The ball went wide with a bit too much spin and shot past Shia to plunge down the bank.

"Ah damn it," the fox growled out loud as he stood on the edge of the path and watched his ball bounce its way down the hill. It was picking up speed and at the last second slammed into a big outcropping of rock and sailed out over the mudflats.

"Don't go in the river, Don't go in the river," Shia muttered as he started down the bank. He sighed in relief as his ball settled into the thick brown mud that covered the land between the base of the hill and the river. Pausing at the bottom Shia peered around for someway to reach it but there wasn't anything.

Cautiously edging out of the mud Shia pressed a foot down gingerly. The flat brown surface looked solid but as soon as he placed any weight on it the surface gave and mud oozed around the sole of his trainers.

Pulling his foot back the fox grumbled and rubbed at his white muzzle and grumbled under his breath. Looking toward his ball he reckoned it was about four feet away, he could probably get there in a few steps as long as it wasn't too deep. Winching he pressed down with his foot and sighed in relief as it met resistance before the mud covered the top of his trainers.

"Ok not as deep as I thought," emboldened by this he took another step, mud squelching around his foot. It stopped again just below the top of his trainer so relaxing Shia took another step and yelped as his left leg plunged down through the surface! The mud just gave way with a squelch, thick creamy brown muck oozing up his leg, coating his black fur and stopping just short of the lighter grey that covered him from the knees up.

Wobbling back and forth Shia managed to just about keep his balance, righting himself with some judicious flailing of his arms. Once he was stable he peered down at his left leg and grimaced. The shaft he'd drilled through the mud was collapsing, pressing in against his leg firmly, gripping his skin and soaking into his fur. Gingerly, carefully the fox pulled his foot out, he could feel his trainer squelching and growing heavy and slipping.

"Don't come off," he prayed as he slowed down and gingerly extracted his leg from the mud and then backed up onto the shore. His trainer was off his foot, he'd only kept it because of the way the laces were tangled around his ankle. Sitting on the offending rock that had sent his ball bouncing into the muck Shia pulled off both trainers and left them on the rock.

"No way I am losing those," he grumbled before looking down at his mud smeared leg. The brown muck was thick, coating his leg, outlining his muscles before becoming a clumpy mess coating his toes.

"Great," Shia shook his head and stood up and carefully edged back into the mud. The first two steps actually didn't feel too bad, mud squishing between his toes but after he good a foot away from the bank the mud proved deeper again. His legs sunk up to the knee before the mud compacted enough to hold his weight.

Wriggling his toes Shia shook his head and tried to ignore the sensation of muck sliding thickly across his legs as he waded deeper. Two, three more steps and then he found himself sinking again. Mud oozed up his legs and squished up beneath his sports shorts. He could feel the muck clinging to his fur, soaking into the fabric of his gear, making the stretchy, breathable material cling.

"Ah damn," Shia looked up to check the ball was where it was and froze. The ball was missing... looking from side to side he saw it another two feet away, "How..." shaking his head Shia grumbled and took another step, trying to puzzle out how the ball had moved again.

This next step saw him sink further. His waist slipped beneath the surface and mud oozed down his waistband! It squelched into his sheath, oozed about his heavy fox nuts and slipped down his thighs. Shifting from side to side Shia waded out, lifting his hands away from the mud except when he had to reach down to grip his shorts and stop them from sliding down. They were saturated, the thick slippery liquid soaking them wanted to make them slide off his hips. There was nothing for them to grip to, just more mud and as he approached the ball the fox was forced to wade, almost up to his stomach now, shifting and forcing himself forward through the mud.

It was hard work, the mud was thick, clinging and cloying and his feet couldn't get a good grip. It was like wading through a pool of water that had turned semi-solid. Shia found the smoothness quite nice against his body, especially the way it made his slippery, shiny, smooth and mud coated shorts rub against his groin. There was something satisfying about it squishing between his toes too but he tried to keep that out of his mind as he waded for his football.

He'd just made it and was reaching for it when something erupted out of the mud beneath the ball and sent it flying up into the air. Mud splattered across his chest and with a yell Shia fell backwards. He didn't fall far, just squelched his torso deeper into the mud. Mud sliding through the fabric of his shirt to cover and coat his fur.

His football went flying through the air, sailing a good five feet further out and as it landed Shia turned back to the thick tail that had battered it away. The tail was thick, long and rudder like and belonged to an otter though this otter was coated from ears to tail tip in a thick, amazingly rich and uniform coating of mud. He had dreadlocks or braids but they were soaked through, clinging to his neck and as he stretched and stood up out of the mud Shia got a good look at his body. Beneath that shiny, slick coating of mud he had the lithe, lightly muscled form of someone who spent a lot of time swimming. For clothing he had on what looked like a kilt, the thick fabric clinging to his legs and a black and white medallion hanging on a chain about his neck.

"Hey there," the otter said with a grin, "Looks like you're looking for someone to play with."

"I... it was an accident!" Shia said after a moment, tearing his eyes away from the otters body to look him in the eyes, "I just wanted to get my ball back and get back to dry land."

"Oh," the otter grinned in that irrepressible way of otters, "Sorry about that, I saw a ball and just had to play with it, want me to go get it?"

The otter reached out a hand and Shia grasped it, mud from their fur squelching into his otherwise clean black furred forearm. He heaved and Shia lifted out of the mud and found himself standing chest to chest with the water weasel.

"No harm done," Shia said, feeling a bit self conscious now he was this close. He was well aware that his sheath was thickening, between the soft rubbing of his shorts, the oozing thickness of the mud and the glimpse of otter balls he'd seen beneath that kilt as he helped him up his traitor body was starting to stir.

"Sorry anyway, I'm Garn," the otter said with a smile, "You wait here I'll go get it."

"Shia," the fox gave his name, "And no need it isn't that far out."

"It gets a lot deeper though, let me help," the otter said with a grin, "I can move easier through this muck...." he looked sideways at the fox and grinned, "Unless... race ya! Loser has to go all the way under!"

"Hah you're on!" Shia shouted, his competitive streak surfacing and without waiting he lunged forward. The mud was thick, his feet slipped as he tried to push his way forward and the otter just dived into the muck. His body arched, he hit the surface with a glorp and was gone.

"Ah no you don't" Shia lunged and grappled with slimy, slippery otter tail, pulling himself forward and the otter back. He laughed and twisted and Shia went sideways, mud smearing up one side of his body. The time it took the inexperienced fox to roll back up and get going gave the otter time to get ahead.

Squishing forwards through the mud Shia found himself well behind and the otter grabbed the ball and rolled onto his back and let out an excited bark, "Hah I think I win!"

Pushing forward Shia found himself up to his chest, arms held up and hands clawing at the thick mud to pull himself forward. Shaking his head and laughing the fox reached the otters side and grinned, "I knew I shouldn't have taken that bet, you clearly do this alot."

The otter grinned, "It's my river bank, mud is great," he batted the muddy football back and forth between his hands, "So under you go Shia, I won."

"Ah damn it," Shia blushed, he could feel his ears reddening and his cock was definitely thickening up, pushing out of his sheath and into the mud, rubbing against the insides of his shorts, "Fine fine, a bets a bet."

Taking a deep breath Shia plunged down into the mud. It squelched over his face, oozed around his ears and liberally coated his neck, hair and shoulders. Rubbing his hands into his muzzle he worked the mud into his body then ran a hand down his chest. His sports shirt stuck to him, the mud making it cling to his chest, he probably didn't have a clean spot of fur left.

Turning around beneath the muck, holding his breath still the fox slipped his hand down and gripped his cock inside his shorts. Squirming shyly he squeezed it, the mud squelching, sliding around his fingers and along the length of his dick. It felt kind of good but he had to go up for air and the otter was right there!

Surfacing Shia gasped down a breath then carefully cleaned muck out of his eyes so he could open them. He found the otter watching him and smiling, still batting the football back and forth with his mud coated hands.

"Having fun?" Garn asked with an impish grin, "Feels good doesn't it?"

"Actually... yeah," Shia blushed again and ducked his head, "Really good, I love the way it feels through my clothes, I was all a bit ick at first but now I'm out here this feels amazing."

"Well," Garn grinned and heaved up out of the mud and hit the ball out across the flats, "You finish getting yourself coated and catch up! If you have the time we can play some."

Shia nodded and ducked down until just his head was showing, his paws rubbing mud into his body happily, "Sure... I'll be right there, got to..." he looked around and grabbed his tail, "Get this coated."

Garn laughed and swam off, thick, muscular body cutting through the mud easily. Shia blushed but took another deep breath and dived down, paw instantly sliding through the waistband of his shorts to grip his cock. It was all the way out of his sheath now, the knot demanding attention. Keeping it trapped between the tight walls of stretched, muddy fabric and his body was a great idea. Squirming in the mud Shia pawed, teasing himself, rubbing his other hand over his body and letting himself float! He rose to the surface, muzzle broaching the mud so he could breath but otherwise he kept the rest of himself submerged.

It really did feel good, the mud, the oozing, thick, slippery sensation of clay sliding over his body, rubbed into his fur and his hand on his cock. It didn't take long, he was already excited, already warm and hard and slippery with mud. With a soft, burbling, mud coated yip of delight Shia hit the beak and emptied his load into the thick, creamy muck coating him.

It felt awesome and incredibly decadent and naughty, pawing off in public like this, even if he was buried out of sight in the mud. He was sure Garn knew what he was up too, otter like that was probably playing in the mud all the time. Smiling up at the bright blue sky Shia rolled over and wriggled, making sure his shorts stayed on as he looked around for the otter.

Now he had sorted himself out he looked around for the otter, Garn was about six feet away, lying on his back and kicking the ball up into the air with his paws. Grinning Shia pulled himself up out of the mud, the heavy weight of his sports gear pulling at him but he didn't mind that. Looks like he'd get to play some ball with someone after all! Even if it was going to be a messy, slimy, muddy affair.