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The otter never did return.

Despite going to that lake nearly every weekend, nobody came. The nightly shifts into a wereotter were getting harder to bear with nobody to play with, and Joel's life and studies suffered as a result. He'd have to lock himself in on the nights that he didn't have time to go swimming, which were more and more common now with college having started again. Not being able to even share the experience with anyone was, however, worse; it became a tell-tale heart kind of thing for him, where the more he avoided the topic, the more it threatened to take over his life.

Eventually, he learned to suppress the shifts, but it took a massive amount of willpower and left him lethargic and eventually depressed. He didn't deny that it felt wonderful when he let it happen, but not being able to share it with anyone was a heavy burden. For every week that passed, he felt less like he belonged among humans at all. It wasn't that being a wereotter was incompatible with human life, not in a vacuum. That, he could make do with. It was the constant secrecy, the feeling of not being able to be open with his friends or even family. The feeling of loneliness brought on by those factors; that was what that was wearing him down.

The lack of energy from suppressing his shifts wasn't helping his studies either. Not only had Joel become distant from his friends, but he wasn't having much luck with grades either. At the end of the term after his encounter with that otter, it had become apparent that he had to do something about the situation, but what, exactly? He'd been to that lake so many times now, wandered up and down it, but never encountered a single otter, much less any that transformed into humans at night. Still, while he'd have to retake some classes, he was still clinging onto hope, especially now that he had time off again.

Granted, it was time that he should've spent studying, but on the other hand, he couldn't focus on studies with the animal side gnawing away at his insides, wanting to get out. He needed an outlet, or an escape.

Luckily, the winter was mild, and while camping certainly wasn't as pleasant as it had been in the summertime, it was doable, if one was willing to freeze and get wet occasionally. So, Joel packed his tent and other supplies, and went once more to the lake that haunted his dreams. In the exact same spot as every other time, in the cover of that cliff near the lake in the forest. He set up his little camp and got a fire going in the afternoon, but the last few hours of sunlight were spent staring, longingly, over the waters. If anything, being here only made him feel worse; he knew the otter wouldn't come, but he muttered a silent prayer to nature to at least give him snow, to let him better track the mustelids.

Even as the sun set, however, he couldn't bring himself to let the beast out. Do I even know how, anymore? he thought. Perhaps he didn't, having worked so hard to hide it away from anyone near him. He sat at this campfire, waiting for that blissful feeling of shifting, but it never came, leaving him feeling even more deflated than before. He'd packed enough clothes and food for a few days assuming that he'd be spending the nights with a thick, protective coat of fur and the ability to catch fish while swimming. Now that was out of the window; he had at most one full day to search for the others. After that, he'd... no, there was no point in going back, not to everyday life, not like this. Joel decided that he'd either find that otter, or someone like him, or else he'd never leave. He couldn't go back, especially if he couldn't even shift anymore; the thought of that was like a noose around his neck, ever tightening. But on the other hand, it also felt like a weight taken off his shoulders; regardless of what happened, he wouldn't have to go back to the ever more depressing life he'd left.

As he slept in his tent, plagued by nightmares and stressful dreams, tightly wrapped by a blanket and a sleeping bag, the first flakes of snow fell onto the embers of the campfire. Gradually, at first, they became more frequent, until even the coals weren't hot enough to melt the snow anymore, silently covering the remains of the fire, as well as the forest as a whole, in a soft layer of snow. With the temperature dropping, a thin ice formed on the lake; hardly sturdy enough to support a human, but it stilled the small waves. And somewhere far away, an otter broke through it, looking for its daily meal.

When morning came, the snow had become deep, and Joel first realized this upon seeing how his tent sagged under the added weight. He felt lucky that it hadn't collapsed on him, and the sight of snow at least gave him a faint hope of finding tracks. He was hardly a tracker, but he could tell otter pawprints apart from other animals, and with snow like this, any tracks were easy to follow. If he found any, at least.

Crawling out of his tent, the first thing that struck him was not the frigid air, but rather the still beauty of it all. Overnight, this mild winter had transformed into a wonderland of snow, icicles had formed on branches and overhangs, pine trees looking like little more than white cones with some green spots. The lake was covered with snow too, although Joel knew better than to test the ice. It was cold - his next realization - but it wasn't cold enough for the ice to be traversable. Not for a human, anyway.

Joel didn't bother packing up his tent, simply brushing the snow off it. Maybe he'd come back, maybe he wouldn't, but either way his camping days would be over. Eating one of the tins of food he'd brought with him cold, unable to start a fire, he wondered what the next step would be. He had more or less combed through the nearest parts of the forest, found nothing, and he doubted he could've entirely missed seeing any otters, if they lived there. Plus, it was relatively close to civilization, people would be moving through here. They wouldn't be moving through deeper parts. To get there with ankle-deep snow would be a bitch and half, but he figured he could do it, not having to worry about a return trip. He also had the benefit of having a map and knowing where every body of water was located; if the otters lived in this forest, he had a very real chance of finding them, thanks to this blessing of snow.

Finishing up his meal of cold beans and pork, he set off, trudging through the snow, bringing only a map, compass, and whatever was left in his rucksack. Some tools, food for maybe another day, but he could go without food for a while. He knew how to build a shelter in snow, should it come to that.

With a sigh, he set off. It'd be a long hike. He'd make it, though. He had to. One foot after the other, wading deep into the woods, far from the areas where regular campers usually went, he followed the biggest river upstream. Recalling his map, this one would come from another lake several kilometres wide, which was as good a target as any. Of course, there were two more rivers and two more lakes leading to the central one, and he wouldn't have time to search through all three, not before the cold took him or he ran out of energy and food.

If it wasn't for the general depression that hung over him, Joel would've found the snow-clad wilderness relaxing. Well, he did find it relaxing, but that gnawing fear was sucking a lot of the enjoyment out of it. Still, he felt better with every step he took away from the city, away from college, away from his human friends, and after a few hours, as he sat down on a rock to rest for a few minutes, he found himself feeling almost normal. Almost. Months of suppressed shifting had taken their toll on him, but if he could manage to let that side out tonight, maybe things would be alright after all.

He followed the river, seeing no signs of anything so far. Sure, there we tracks; from deer, from foxes, small critters like squirrels, but nothing that could've been an otter's pawprint. The river, unlike the rest of the forest, was moving far too quickly to freeze over anytime soon, almost forming rapids near the middle between the two lakes. Every few minutes Joel stopped and surveyed both the river and the surrounding snow for any signs of what he was looking for, but found nothing.

For a moment, Joel thought about laying down in the snow and not getting up. It was an oddly appealing idea, perhaps not only for the relief of giving up, but something else. Still, he continued up the river, the sound of running water at least soothing him, making the world seem a little less gritty and unfriendly. Every now and then he'd come across a cliff that he needed to walk around, an offshoot creek from the river that he had to get over, a swampier part where every step risked getting him waist-deep in freezing water, but he made it past everything. Finally, just as the sun was beginning its final descent, he reached the other lake. At first, it was only the river broadening, and then, past the next trees, he could see the whole thing. This didn't mean that it was over, of course. Not by a long shot. He'd have to traverse around the whole thing, but it felt like a goal had been reached, a task fulfilled. The sun's setting rays didn't warm him much, but even a little bit of dry warmth felt blissful after hours of trudging through the snow. There was less of it up here, but still enough to at least see tracks.

He worried that he'd missed something along the river, but the idea of going back up and down that stretch... no, he had to move forward. If he missed wherever the otters lived, so be it; he'd accept that fate. Chances were that if they even lived in this forest at all, they'd be somewhere near this lake, the biggest and most isolated of the four in total. Near the coastline, right? If they lived as feral otters for half the day that's the kind of place they'd hide in; holts and dens near the water. And there'd have to be signs of "human" habitation too, given their other form. Huts, perhaps? Some sort of ceremonial place? The only one Joel had met hadn't seemed to really know what modern society was like, but still spoke English, so presumably they'd have some form of teachers, which meant areas for them to teach in. Signs of hunting. That kind of thing.

Then, far off in the distance, nearly at the exact opposite point of the lake, he thought he saw something. It was almost impossible to tell what it was, but it looked like It was on the lake and then disappeared. An otter diving through a hole in the ice? It might've just been a bird or some other animal, but regardless it filled Joel's heart with a surge of hope and adrenaline. He'd still have to walk around the perimeter, as the ice was obviously thin, but there was at least something here.

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, off to warm another part of the world. Although the sky was rapidly darkening, to his surprise, Joel found that he could see just as well as he had in broad daylight, although colours did bleed out of things, leaving the forest an ethereal black and white, colour only noticeable near the snow. He looked at his hands, half expecting the familiar fur to sprout, but nothing happened. Nothing beyond his eyesight changing. Did this mean he was close to being able to shift again? He suppressed a sudden feeling of joy; he didn't want to be disappointed again, but it was a good sign.

Previously, he had worried that he wouldn't be able to see any tracks in the dark, and his flashlight, while fairly powerful, still cast plenty of dark shadows in the woods. For a moment, he was happy, but then the realization of the situation dawned on him. He was alone, far from the nearest humans, in the middle of the night, in a snowy forest, in the middle of winter. He had no idea how cold the night would get, and with all this snow, getting a fire going was unlikely, even with a lighter. A fire might scare the otters into hiding too; they had no way of knowing he was - to a degree, at least - one of them, not before he was within smelling range. And right now, he was downwind from that one vague shape he had seen in the distance.

The thought worried him. If he could just shift, everything would be alright. The cold would stand powerless against thick otter fur, and the others would recognize him. He cursed ever having learned how to suppress the shifts, telling himself he should've just let them happen, even if he had to stay hidden for the durations. And more than anything, he cursed the otter who had brought him to this point to begin with. It hadn't been his intention, clearly, but he'd left Joel in dire straits.

Still, he reflected on it as he continued his search. It hadn't been all bad. Going swimming as wereotter had been amazing. The orgasms, too, even though he had nobody to share them with. The enhanced sense of smell, the increased endurance and strength, and maybe most of all, the flexibility. Joel thought back on how he'd been able to wrap his muzzle around his own cock, and the wonderful spasms of climax as his musky cum spurted onto his eager tongue- no, this wasn't the time or place for that. He shook his head. Couldn't afford to get distracted, especially by not something that trivial.

At least imagining it had made him feel a little warmer, for a brief moment. He kept scanning his surroundings, looking for any signs of life, as he continued along the coastline. Then, there it was, suddenly, in front of him; pawprints, appearing in the snow, coming from the lake. He knelt down and tried to smell them, but any scents that had been there were too vague for his human nose. How long had this part of the forest had snow? One day? Two days? Still, they might be as fresh as yesterday, and they led in a clear direction towards where he had seen that curiously otterlike shape.

There was nothing to do but to follow the tracks. The air grew colder and colder as the final rays of sun faded and the sky was left pitch black. Joel could feel his breath crystallizing on his face, forming a fine layer of frost in the stubble. And it'd get colder, he realized. He remembered how his daydream about sex had made him feel warmer, and now with tracks to follow, he could afford the luxury of distraction. It was a desperate, vain attempt, but imagining himself that one night with the otter, made him forget about the biting chill in the air. He imagined turning the tables, ramming his swollen cock under the otter's thick tail and pounding him like a wild animal, biting his neck he reached climax, filling him up with his thick seed. He imagined the otter fucking him, again, after that, until he was bloated with his cum. Enough of that cursed seed and he might lose his human side entirely, becoming just another otter, and only turning into half-human shape in the moonlight. Would he keep his memories? He didn't know. Perhaps they'd fade like the remains of a dream in the morning sun. Maybe they'd stay with him forever, but only recalled when him humanoid form.

Of course, he didn't actually know if that'd work. He did, however, imagine that if he found several of the wereotters, at least an orgy couldn't hurt. It was a selfish thought, but he felt that they owed him. Owed him for making him so lonely, at least one of them did. And he'd have to fix it, somehow.

Or he might freeze to death in the forest and not be found before spring came and melted the snow away. That was a distinct possibility, and the cold reminded him of its presence again. He hadn't realized it, thinking about the otters, but the pawprints had changed. They were something else, now: larger, more like a human, but still with clearly webbed toes and pawpads. He had to be getting close, but he resisted the urge to call out into the night. He still hadn't shifted, and he had to at least get a chance to explain what was going on before scaring everyone away.

Then, in the distance, he saw what might as well have been the gates of paradise: the warm glow of a fire in the icy night. It was some distance away, but there was no mistaking it. It was a fire, and unless someone other than himself was made enough to brave the forest this time of the year, it had to be what he was looking for. He slowed down, quieted his breathing and footsteps. They'd notice him any second, and he had to get close before that happened, or they might run, never to be found again.

How would he introduce himself? A simple hello? Blurt out that he was one of them as quickly as possible? Would they know?

His fears proved unfounded. As he neared the fire, two of the wereotters dove out from behind the trees, pointing two spears at him, almost touching his chest with the sharp-looking heads.

"Don't move," one said.

The other one said nothing. Joel recognized it as the one that had originally turned him. The first immediately noticed the apparently unexpected silence from his partner.

"What?" he asked, and glanced over, keeping his spear pointed at the human. "Wait, no, you can't be serious," he growled, quickly sounding angrier and angrier. "I swear to the gods, if you..."

He trailed off, turning his attention to Joel again. "Are you one of us? Your scent is strange, but you have our eyes..." he asked. Joel quickly recognized his chance.

"Yes! Kind of! I can't even shift anymore, your friend turned me half a year ago and-"

The first otter lowered his spear. And then in a flash of rage he jabbed his friend in the side with the blunt end, hard, causing him to double over in pain, groaning. "What... you..." he growled, clutching his side, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"AGAIN? You did it AGAIN?" the first one growled back. "You must love getting punished," he continued, and then turned back to Joel.

"Interrupt me if I'm wrong: he met you, mated with you, and then left you alone to deal with it, yes? And you haven't been able to, because almost nobody can," he narrated. "And it's hollowed you out like a rotten trunk, and you're ready to abandon your previous life?"

Joel could only nod, stunned.

The otter sighed. "Come with us," he muttered. "And Talon, this is your second offence. A third and you'll be the one dealing with being alone. Get up, you useless rotten fish," he snarled.

Talon, as his name apparently was, struggled to get back up from his kneeling position. He looked angrily at Joel, and this didn't go unnoticed by his friend.

"And don't even think about it," the first one growled, readying his spear for another jab. "This is entirely your fault," he continued. "Get up and walk in front of me, back to the camp."

Muttering unfamiliar obscenities, Talon complied, still clutching his side.

I followed. The two didn't speak again before we reached the bonfire. Around it, Joel saw several of the strange creatures. Most male, although there were a few females, as well as one with a prominent crown of what seemed like fish bones and shards of a clam. They eyed the human varily. The first otter - whose name Joel still didn't know, spoke up.

"Talon turned another one without permission," he said, drawing a chorus of loud squeaks, growls and sighs from the group.

Talon started to protest but the female with the crown of fish and nothing else covering her voluptuous body stood up and motioned for Joel to come closer. When he was standing right in front of her, she leaned in, her nose almost touching his neck as she sniffed at my scent. Her expression turned grim.

"You are blameless. Sit down by the fire, we will welcome you in a moment." she spoke, eloquently and calmly. Joel did as she instructed and let out a sigh of relief and finally getting to rest his legs. The rest of the otters look at him with increasing curiosity, their mostly black eyes making him feel like their gazes were piercing his skin. Still, he didn't feel terribly alarmed. He was too exhausted - and perhaps, too relieved - to feel that.

The female - presumably she was their leader - circled around the fire to Talon. "I recognize his scent, he is one of yours. This is the second time you have done this..." she spoke. "You know what will happen if there is a third."

Talon nodded, glancing at Joel as if wishing he would say something to absolve him of his sins. He did not.

"Consider yourself warned a second time," she spoke, softly yet with a menacing undertone. She reached out and touched the male's chest, murmuring something Joel couldn't quite hear, and he shrank, as if by magic. Likely actually by magic. After all, if animals could transform into humans, who could say what other strange things lurked in the less explored corners of the world?

Within a few seconds, he was reduced to a normal-looking river otter, squeaking at the leader with apparent anger. She stomped her foot, and he ran away.

"He can return in the morning," the leader told the group. "But if this happens a third time, he is permanently exiled. Let us think no more of that and instead direct our attentions to the newcomer. What is it that you want?" she said, looking straight into Joel's eyes.

"I want to be one of you," Joel said. Thoughts of his human life flashed through his head, which had had its moments, but those moments were gone now. Part of a previous existence that he no longer felt part of. "I can't be a human anymore. It's too much to bear."

"You realize what you're asking, yes?" she asked. "It is possible, but you will be unable to ever go back. Unable to even remember your human self, or even think as one, for half the day. And the other half will be rough, spent here with us in the wild, hunting or starving."

She paused. From the look in Joel's eyes, it was clear that he'd thought this through.

"You're not the first. Dog, over there-" she gestured at one of the males, with spirals of white painted onto his chest and belly "-was Talon's first unpermitted conversion..."

Dog nodded. "I don't regret it, even if life is harder here," he spoke. "I doubt you will either."

The leader addressed Joel once more. "Given that Talon was the one who turned you, I would presume you're not unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the process," she explained. "More or less: we - the males, females, or both, depending on your preferences - will fuck you until you're either completely drained of seed and humanity, or so full of ours that there won't be anything else left," she continued, trying to keep her expression serious but breaking out into a wide grin.

"Or, we could just bite you over and over," she added. "But nobody ever picks that option."

The otters broke into laughter and Joel joined them in it. It was genuine laughter, triggered by the tension being broken, and perhaps serving to distract them, briefly, from sexual tension that would follow.

"Er..." Joel answered, but then hesitated. He didn't really think of himself as gay, but he'd never done it with a female either. The fact was, Talon had been his only sexual experience involving someone else, and that had felt wonderful. Still, he was hesitant to answer.

"Don't worry, we're all bisexual. I suppose it comes with being social animals. You probably will be as well, so nobody will judge for whatever choice you make," she spoke, softly now, encouragingly.

It took Joel a while to decide, even then. While he initially wanted to go with the females, the allure of their soft bodies pressed against his was ultimately beaten by the desire to experience what he'd experienced with Talon; the sensation of fullness, of thick liquid warmth seeping into him, the eager possessive mating of an aroused male. Still, given such an enticing proposal, he did want to bury his own - now swelling - maleness into something, too.

"I... think I'd rather have the males do it," he answered, stuttering at first. "But, uh... maybe one could ride me, too?" he asked hopefully, provoking another wave of laughter from the rest.

"I believe Dog would be willing," the leader answered. Dog nodded. Joel couldn't help but notice his cock was starting to peek out of the tawny sheath that protected it from the winter cold, the tip glistening in the firelight.

"You should probably keep your clothes on at first, until your natural coat returns," the leader told him. "The fire's warm, but the ground is not."

"Well, then, how do we..." Joel began, and then realized it was a pointless question. He wouldn't need clothes anymore after this, so holes here and there hardly mattered. The leader noticed he figured it out by himself. "We will keep the clothes, though, holes and all; they make for excellent bedding once we get rid of all the hard parts. You know, I never did understand why humans love 'zippers' so much..."

"Well, enjoy yourselves, males," she chuckled. "We'll watch."

It took what for Joel felt like an eternity for anyone to make the first move, everyone seemingly hesitant to seem too eager by going first. That's not to say they didn't look like they wanted to. Some of the more bashful males were covering their crotches, others not caring if Joel saw their cocks swelling with arousal from whatever they were fantasizing of doing to him, and his own reaction was much the same, although his hardness wasn't noticeable through the thick pants he wore. He found himself wondering if it felt as good for them to turn someone as it felt to be on the receiving end, or if it was simply the primal need to slide their cocks into a tight, hot, and wanting hole asserting itself.

Eventually, one of the smaller, and probably younger males approached him. He was noticeably nervous but also rather clearly aroused, as he sat down next to Joel and reached to stroke his hair with a webbed paw. It was entirely possible that the otter had never even see a human before, and Joel realized this, letting the otter's paws explore his body. He squeezed a bit here and there, hesitating, but clearly wanting to get to the human's crotch. With his musky scent filling the human's nostrils, he resolved to help him out. He unbuttoned the front of his pants and then unzipped them, leaving his bulge visible for the otter to feast his eyes on. The numbing cold didn't have much effect; without needing any further encouragement, the otter's paw came to rest on his still-human cock, caressing the member through the fabric. Quickly figuring out that it was another layer of clothing rather than a sheath, he very gently sliced through his underwear with a single claw, creating an opening big enough for his paw to fit through. Joel let out a little moan as the otter's nimble paw wrapped around his length, gently moving it back and forth while he guided it out through the hole. Not to be outdone, Joel took off his glove and traced his fingers along the young otter's much bigger shaft, making him squeak. As nimble as the otter's hands were, they were no match for a human's, and Joel, having experience with wereotter cocks from shifting, knew exactly where all the right spots where, rubbing here and there, coaxing the otter's maleness into full mast, eager to breed any willing hole.

The two males were now facing each other, each rubbing the other's cock and panting with need. The otter surprised Joel when he suddenly pressed his muzzle against his mouth. While it was a poor fit for kissing, he did manage to slide his tongue into the human's mouth to tangle with his, licking around his lips with a surprising amount of sensuality.

Encouraged by this display, the other males slowly gathered around the two, each wanting to have a go, and things quickly heated up from there. To Joel, it felt like he had died and gone to a very erotic interpretation of heaven, with all those hard, bestial cocks to touch, rub and suck to his heart's content. Still, he only had two arms, and he wanted the young one to be the one to fill him first. Pulling his pants down to his thighs, he wondered what position he would prefer. He let the wereotter guide him onto all fours, close to the fire so that he'd stay warm. Joel could feel the young male tremble with excitement as he spread the human's asscheeks, rubbing one of his padded fingers against the hole, but not daring to push into it due to his claws.

Meanwhile, Joel, quickly more and more lost in lust, grabbed the nearest other cock and guided it into his mouth. That one squeaked with delight as his tongue swirled around the tip, getting the musky length slick with saliva and precum, and they both loved every second of it. Soon, he began bobbing his head back and forth, his hands at the otter's hips encouraging him to start thrusting, albeit gently, and he eagerly accommodated the human, growling with pleasure.

The young otter behind him, meanwhile, was positioning his tapered, animalistic cock, nudging the tip against the human's pucker, positioning for penetration. With his cock already wet with arousal from their earlier play, he managed to slide halfway into Joel's body with no resistance, causing him to moan into the third male's cock which he was now sucking on like his life depended on it.

The rest of the male otters, five or maybe six, had all gathered closely around him, rubbing their bodies and their wonderful cocks over every inch of him. Joel used one hand to pull his jacket and shirt up as high as they could go bare more skin for their pleasure, and the silky soft touch of their fur as well as the spitroasting he was receiving quickly had his own length dripping precum onto the wet ground. He barely even noticed the cold, heated by the bodies around him, and they quickly figured this out, clawing at his jacked and managing to make it fall off in tatters, and then doing the same to the shirt underneath, leaving his upper body naked, allowing all of them to lick, rub or hump against his warm skin, a sensation new to most of them.

The otter mounting him started thrusting, grunting and squeaking as he hilted himself into the human over and over again. He wasn't a very gentle lover, which was probably to be expected from a relatively wild beast, quickly building up speed as he pumped away. Joel felt his playmate lean down over him, nuzzling at his neck questioningly. Joel knew what wanted, recognizing the instincts he'd had himself when shifted. Taking a moment to pull his mouth off the other otter's cock, he encouraged the otter go for it.

"Go ahead, just be gentle, don't bite too hard," he said, and the young mustelid followed his instructions without speaking a word. He noticed most of the otters didn't say much, although they all could speak; probably strong animal instincts overriding the human ones while engaged in something like this.

The young otter bit Joel's neck, quite hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, as his body tensed up. He felt his member throb inside him, and then that blissful warmth spurting into him, much hotter than a human's. He felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, and his own climax wasn't far behind, reflexively clenching down on the cock inside him, as if milking him for his seed while his own splattered onto the ground. That feeling was like a damn bursting, and suddenly he felt that other familiar pressure grow inside him. His face was the first to change, as it lengthened into a muzzle even as he was sucking on that deliciously musky cock, and the feeling of that cascaded through his body, leaving him only dimly aware of the cock in his mouth twitching, a flood of delicious cum spraying and oozing over his tastebuds, before quickly being swallowed.

He felt his mind empty as fur sprouted through his skin, which made the rest of the otters chitter excitedly. A tail formed just when the young otter pulled out of him, spent, and the next of the males got behind him, grabbed onto the growing ruddertail, and quickly thrust inside of him, eager to add his own seed to the human's already dripping ass.

Joel's senses grew more acute, and while he'd noticed the otters had a unique, arousing scent to them, he noticed something more as his nose morphed into that of an otter; they smelled like him.

After the second otter emptied his heavy balls into the changing human, he found himself flipped around by one of the bigger males, who hoisted the newly reborn wereotter onto his lap, his thick, slick cock easily sliding inside him. At the same time, Dog, the other one who had started out human, guided Joel's cock under his tail, riding him even as he was being bounced on the bigger otter's cock. He barely even realized that he hadn't gone soft despite orgasming, and was only growing more aroused, if such a thing was even possible. Having been a human, Dog didn't have quite the same frenzied, animalistic pace as the others, and instead speared himself on his lover's increasingly otterlike cock with slow, deliberate movements, like a dancer.

With that kind of attention, being both fucked and fucking someone else at once, Joel didn't last long, and found himself biting Dog's shoulder possessively as his balls tightened up, seeding him with spurt after spurt of hot, stringy cum.

It all became a blur, a haze of endless sexual release, and much like the leader had said, Joel vaguely realized that he was losing his human thoughts. By the time each of the males had been under his tail twice, some more than that, he was so bloated with their warm essence that its effects were starting to become too much for any of his human body to remain. One after another, the otters snuggled up to him, utterly spent, nobody quite remembering how many times they'd climaxed, or even who they'd fucked. Joel found himself feeling smaller and smaller in that pile of fur and splattered cum. He couldn't remember to even remember, his thoughts instead taking on a more animalistic shape, much like his body.

Even as his arms and legs shortened, the last noticeably human thought that went through his changing brain was one he wouldn't remember: he had finally found his way where he belonged_._

He felt the leader of the otters stroking his head and back and squeaked affectionately, no longer anything more than a regular old riverdog. "You'll stay like this until the next night," the female whispered even as Joel leaned into her pettings, not understanding any of those strange noises she made, but recognizing the tone of voice as a relaxing one. "Welcome home," she murmured.

As the sun rose, they all reverted back into animal forms, and Joel followed them a few - Dog, and the returning Talon, into one of many holts that dotted the lakeside, curling up together to sleep. It was everything he'd ever wanted. A hole in the ground and his friends to help keep him warm. Maybe some fish when they woke up in the evening. Yeah, he could go for some fish. But for now, snuggles were all he had the energy for.

He finally felt at peace.