FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You wake up, flailing for the alarm clock. They stopped sending radio on the FM band a year ago, so instead, you once again wake up as the infernal device plays you the song of its people, an extremely loud rapid series of beep-beep-beeps that threatened to wake the whole house up, and probably the neighbours too.

Click. You hit the snooze button and blissful silence descends on you again. Now there's space to think. Despite the grogginess and general unpleasantness of being woken up from deep, restful sleep, you feel quite cheery. Why was that, again? You stare at the ceiling for a moment, looking at the glow-in-the-dark solar system you built up there when you were about seven years old. And then it clicks:

It was the last year of high school! No more would you have to deal with angsty teenagers, bizarre social cliques, long and tedious classes combined with homework that ate so much into your free time. Most of all, you wouldn't have to deal with bullies. You made the mistake of coming out as gay too early. Any time in high school was probably too early, but as a sophomore had definitely been too early, and you'd paid for that mistake with years of mockery. No more of that, either! Of course, as it usually goes, some part of you would miss it, but it was a very, very small part; things were changing, and for the better. Well, hopefully they were, at any rate.

Still grumbling, you leave the warm comfort of your bed, just barely big enough for you. The last year of high school also meant the last year of living with your parents, at least if you managed to dodge the usual bullshit that millenials had to deal with and landed a job after university. And thinking of university, you realize that you should have an answer to your application to them waiting in your mailbox. Your digital mailbox. Stories passed on by the family elders told of a time when mail would arrive in physical form, but nowadays all that the mailbox had to offer was advertisements. Somewhat like a physical spam folder.

You quickly get dressed, pulling on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt over your slender body. That body had been another issue, because not only were you known to be gay, but with a not-so-masculine body everyone assumed you were also the catcher. Not entirely incorrect, based on your fantasies, but you were a virgin still, so there was time to discover what you preferred. There weren't any other gay people in this backwards neck of the woods, and if there were, they almost certainly wouldn't be to your taste. No, you dreamt of an educated boyfriend, someone who you could have deep, loving philosophical and scientific conversations with while staring lovingly into his eyes and eating, well, perhaps oysters, whatever it was that fancy people ate at dates.

That fleeting thought of a date, a kiss, and whatever follows that sends a pleasant vibration through your body, originating at your cock, which you realize is still in morning wood mode, straining into the jeans. That'd have been pretty embarrassing, you think, relieved that you noticed the exceptionally erect member before going outside your room. Yeah, looking in the mirror it's quite noticeable. Not that you were especially big, at some six inches, but the tight jeans almost seemed to accentuate the curve of your maleness.

Oh well. You still have time before you're expected to have breakfast with the family, so you switch on your laptop and sit down in front of it. Might as well check the mail before announcing that you're awake.

Sure enough, a notification pops up on your screen, like bread from a toaster. Three new emails arrived overnight. You can feel your heart beating faster as you click on it, the contents of those three emails feeling extremely integral to your future, like oracular tidings from the seas of fate. Here's to the future, and whatever it may bring. Let loose the dogs of war.

The first email turns out to be an advertisement. Yeah. Companies have a bad habit of sending those even after clicking all the opt-out buttons you can find.

The second email is from the university. Your hands tremble as you slowly move your pointer over to it, hover over the subject line which reveals little, and then click with no small amount of trepidation.

Oh, the joy! You've been accepted to study for a master's degree in biology! Your heart soars. That's fantastic news, even though it certainly means a very busy schedule of studying for the next five years. You've always liked animals, and zoology had been your very first choice for education. Granted, you'd have to do basic biology, math, and all that first, but nontheless, fantastic news! You send the email to your printer; kind of a waste, but it'll be fun showing it to your parents later. Maybe not in the morning, though. Nobody in the family liked the kind of people who were cheery during the pre-coffee period of a day. You don't, either, but seeing your dreams gradually come true certainly makes you feel better than usual.

The third email. There was a third, wasn't there? You click back as your printer gets to work. Oh yes, it's from the nearby zoo, where you applied for a summer job, in order to get some money for your future days at the university. You click it, and bam! Another positive answer! You are to come in for an interview to ascertain exactly what position you'll be getting later in the day, well after the schoolday's end. It's looking like it'll be a busy day, but for once, it's busy_in a good_ way.

And speaking of good, you realize your erection has finally given up, realizing that it can't get whatever it was you dreamt of, leaving you looking considerably more proper.

You leave the acceptance letter in the printer, determined to show it off later instead, and join the rather funereal breakfast procession downstairs. Your dad grunts something along the lines of good morning to you, his bushy moustache seemingly drooping into a large cup of coffee, twitching, as if trying to absorb caffeine from the steam. Your mom is a little more normal, though unmistakably laconic as she brings cereal and toast to the table, on which her own cup of coffee is waiting. Finally, your sister - only a few years younger than you - says nothing, looking like a zombie and staring emptily into the void through sleep-glazed eyes. It certainly makes you feel like odd man out, actually being relatively happy and upbeat this morning, but as they say, mornings are for coffee and contemplation, and so you suppress those emotions for now.

Outside, the weather is gloomy, with light showers of rain periodically falling from roiling clouds. You find yourself thinking about the biological functions of water in the human body, how it acts as a solvent, carrying waste out, just as it carries nutrition to the cells and cools your body down on hot days. It isn't something you'd normally think about, but you do love biology, and having been accepted to study it you suddenly feel like Neo in The Matrix, seeing through everything and reading the biological coding underneath. Coffee, then, combines water and caffeine, the latter of which blocks certain tiredness-causing chemicals in your brain from binding to their appropriate receptors... or so you think; you resolve to look it up later.

Before you know it, you've done eating, and it's time to get to school. It's the same old, same as it always was. Boring classes - and none in biology, today - but you do mention that you got accepted for university to one of your relatively few friends as you walk to your lockers to put away the books and grab lunch.

"Oh," she exclaims, adding "That's great" before you go on to tell her about the summer job as well.

"At the zoo?" she asks. "Didn't you hear about the previous guy? They say he disappeared! Probably while working. Drowned in the whale tank or something."

"I don't think there is a whale tank," you reply. Of course there isn't, being quite a bit further inland than this little town.

"Well the point is, he's gone. Nobody could find him!" she goes on, her voice and body language getting more and more exaggerated as he does. Theatre kids were weird.

"Oh, Isaac, have you not heard the tale of that poor soul? Some say they turned him into a monkey for their exhibit!" she suggests, making a _poof_motion with her hand. "Others say his ghost still haunts the hyena pit," she continues, in a spooky tone "You better watch out so they don't get you too!"

"No, but seriously, he did disappear. Didn't know him that well, though," she says, returning to her normal tone. "I mean, I don't think the zoo had anything to do with it."

"I'll be careful, Emily," you reply, half-seriously. You certainly would be careful, though not because you were afraid of disappearing.

She tells you about her plans for the future. She's - obviously - planning to go stage school, far away, and then get into movies. Lofty goals, but you're sure she can pull it off. You talk about a variety of other topics until it's time for class again. And again. And then it's time to go home.

Well, not home, but rather, to the zoo. First, you change to slightly nicer clothes in the school's bathroom, having brought them with you. Nothing too fancy, just a long-sleeved button-up shirt and a pair of black chinos. A little bit more professional than the hoodie and worn jeans you usually wear to school. Hopefully not too fancy, if they expect you to be actually handling animals. Second, you turn up some 80s rock on your earbuds to boost your confidence. Eye of the Tiger. Not that they have any tigers at the zoo, only local animals. It's one of those conservation places. Third, you make your way to the bus stop, anxiously keeping an eye on the time on your phone as if that'd prevent the bus from being late. It's funny how that works, how everyone checks their watches or phones constantly when they're in a hurry, even though it only uses up more time.

But despite your anxiety, the bus does come. You're the only person on it other than the driver; almost nobody takes the bus around there outside of their commutes, and it's a few hours to the particular rush. Sitting at the back, you watch the ocean disappear from view, feeling like a pioneer to unknown lands even though you've taken this road many times, often with your parents. But now there's a new and exotic destination ahead: work. Somehow, the thought excites you, and you wonder if it'll ever start feeling mundane. Probably not, surely working with what you love will never get old.

Finally, there it is: the Two Rivers Zoo, so named because it's near a point where, unsurprisingly, two rivers merge on their journey towards the ocean. It's closer to the big city than to your little town, but it's considered to be part of your town anyway for reasons of tourism.

You get off the bus and take a look around. You've been there before, of course, but it's still a rather impressive setup and the main employer in the region. A huge tract of land dedicated to studying animals and helping repopulate endangered ones, and even a laboratory on the premises, although that was closed to the public for obvious reasons. Every year they had a theme, this year it was otters, and so there was a giant statue (like those dinosaurs they used to have at museums) of an otter peering over the parking lot, along with a banner over the entrance proclaiming this the Year of the Otter.

Cheery. You walk to the entrance as casually as you can and tell the guy who works there - about your own age - that you're here for a summer job.

"Oh," he replies, disinterestedly. He looks rather stoned. "You'll want to go to the offices or whatever you call them, they're at the back of the park."

He buzzes you in through the gate and you continue along the path. There aren't a lot of visitors at the zoo at this hour, and you have half an hour before the "interview", so you take your time, looking at the various animals. Most of the attention seems to be at the otter enclosure, and besides, otters are your favorite animals, so that's where you decide to stop.

As always, they're quite frisky beasts, running around the enclosure and playing with whatever they can get their paws (hands?) on, including small rocks which one's rolling around on his belly, and another one keeps swimming with a feather, releasing it while diving underwater, and then surging to the surface like a considerably cuter Jaws to catch it. As always, it's almost as much fun watching them as you imagine that they're having doing nothing in particular, racing each other and squeaking. They smell rather musky and fishy, though not entirely unpleasant. A little bit like wet ferrets with a note of pansies is the best description you can come up with.

There are some new-looking information signs around the enclosure, which you go ahead and read.

"This year we're celebrating the Year of the Otter!" one reads, continuing on to describe how otters are endangered in various parts of the world, because of pollution and the earlier fur trade, which almost drove them extinct. They're on the rebound now, though.

The next one goes on to describe otter behaviour, and posits the research question of this year's theme; otters are one of the few species to never have exhibited any signs of homosexuality. There are a number of theories, the sign describes. One is that due to their enormous tails, it's almost impossible to engage in penetrative sex unless both partners consent. "While gay otters almost certainly exists, it is possible that nobody has observed two at a time," it reads. In order to actually document whether or not it is possible, the zoo has temporarily taken in a number of male otters from other zoos, ones that have never been observed to mate with females.

It seems like a rather niche topic, but then again, it's also a step towards greater acceptance of homosexuality, a goal that you can wholeheartedly get behind. You start wondering what being an otter would be like. It seems like all fun and games all the time, at least in captivity, when survival's not a concern. Glancing at your phone again, you realize you've been standing there for about fifteen minutes, and start walking towards the end of the park.

Ah, there it is. It's a relatively unassuming big brick box, a fairly old building, with a small sign that reads "Two Rivers Adminstration". The door's open, so you walk right in.

"You're here for the summer job?" someone calls to you, and you turn towards the voice, finding an old lady sitting behind a worn receptionist's desk.

"Yeah. Anywhere in particular you'd like me to go?" you ask. That didn't sound very professional.

"Have a seat with the other two kids, we'll come and get you when it's time," she replies with a tired smile, gesturing vaguely towards the other side of the entrance hall, where you notice two others waiting. So you sit down with them, and wait. And wait. In total silence. Finally you turn towards one of them - a boy somewhat older than you, with jet black hair - and try to strike up a conversation.

"Any idea how many people they're looking for?" you ask.

"Just one, I think? It's something to with the otters, like a caretaker. Or a shit-shoveler," he replies, chuckling at the last bit. Not too unlikely, you think.

Eventually, he gets called in by a man in what looks like a lab coat. Strange outfit to wear for the interviews, but maybe you'll be working at the lab? You're not sure what exactly you'd be qualified to do, but it'd certainly be interesting. As for the immediate moment, you're left alone in the waiting room. Well, technically alone; the other kid is still there, but quiet.

You're left to examine your surroundings. There are some potted plants around the relatively featureless room, plastic for all you know, and a table in the middle with a selection of magazines. With boredom starting to gnaw on you after ten minutes of nothing happening, you stand up and look at the selection. On the top of the pile is the Two Rivers Official Magazine, a twenty-or-so page publication that's only released twice a year. It's interesting enough, but there isn't much of substance that you don't already know, so you set it aside after skimming through the contents.

The second, third and fourth magazines are about cars and travel. Maybe something you'd read if extremely bored, but you're not quite there yet. From the corner of your eye you see the receptionist make notes, occasionally glancing at you. Are they trying to figure out what you're interested in, or is she just as bored as you are?

Oh well, not like it matters either way. The fifth magazine in the pile is a surprisingly raunchy publication, one of those Playboy knockoffs. Not outright porn, but "tasteful nudity", which you're surprised to find here. Still, being all women, it's not really in your interests, so you set in on the second pile you've created.

Finally, the last one's a similar magazine, except this one with men. Your gaze lingers on it for a while. You're tempted to read through it, but hesitate. It wouldn't be very professional to be caught reading that as an interviewee. It'd especially be unprofessional to come to the interview with an erection, which you're sure you'd get, were you to look at the alluring, glossy pages of scantily clad men. The receptionist makes another note.

"Are you noting down which magazines I'm reading?" you finally ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"Yup," she answers. "It's actually part of the pre-interview process- oh, hold on one second," she says as a phonecall interrupts her, which she promptly picks up. That's fascinating. Some kind of psychology? You suppose you might've shown some interest in the zoo itself and perhaps a little too much in nearly nude men, but on the other hand, discriminating you based on that would be all kinds of illegal.

You bounce up when you hear a name called, only to realize that it's not yours. The second kid gets called in as the third walks out without saying anything, but judging by the glum expression on his face, he didn't get the job. You're left staring at the potted plants. Surely they must be plastic, you think, trying to stare through one. It's just a little bit too perfect to be real. The old lady at the desc is still on the phone, so you have nobody to talk with, and time drags on. The sun filters lazily through the blinds on the windows and you follow specks of dust floating around, visible in the beams.

_How long of an interview do you really need for a-_you think, interrupted as the second kid leaves and you finally get called in for an interview. You follow the man in the lab coat up the stairs and into an overly warm, cramped room, in which you sit down at the opposite side of a table, facing him. He's somewhere in his middle age, just barely starting to go bald, with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses on his nose.

He looks at some papers on the desk, then looks at you, then goes back to the papers, makes a note, and finally opens his mouth to speak.

"Alright, it looks like you're out last candidate. I have some questions," he begins, rubbing his right temple as he speaks, as if trying to soothe a headache. "Keep in mind that you don't have to answer all of them, but that there are no strictly correct answers, and while our questions may appear strange at first glance, we have a very strict internal commission set up to assure that nobody is discriminated because of their answers, yada yada yada. Sorry, it's been a long day," he offers, conjuring up a crooked smile.

"Well, uh, sure," you stammer.

"Okay, question one: what animal would you be if you had to be one, and why?" he asks. You look at his face for any hint of the question being a joke, but he appears dead serious. Well, two can play the cliché game.

"I'm always energetic, friendly to my classm- coworkers, and like coming up with novel solutions to pre-existing problems," you reply. Oh man, try that on for size. "So I suppose I'd be an otter."

"Very good," he says, dryly, scribbling something into the notebook in front of him. "If given the choice between work and family, what do you prioritize?"

Well that's very general. "Uh, I suppose spending time with your family is important but I'd be willing to work overtime when required assuming that the work we do is good," you reply. Was that right? Was it good?

"Very good," the interviewer confirms, although you get the feeling that's his reply to everything. "How much would you be willing to sacrifice to advance science?"

What, are they going to sacrifice me to the science gods? "Well, science is very important, so while I wouldn't sacrifice, say, my life, I think the answer is 'a fair bit'," you answer.

"Very... good," he says, pausing to make notes. Final question: Are you gay? We think we know the answer already but we'd like to hear it from you," he replies, continuing when he notices your expression at the question. "Like I said earlier, we're not going to deny you the job regardless of what you answer, we are only asking so have statistics on the inclusivity of our workplace."

Well, maybe. You can't help but feel like there's some obvious subtext to the question. Some kind of hidden agenda. "Yes," you managed to squeeze out.

"Very good," he replies. Yes, it's definitely his answer to everyhing. You sit almost a minute in perfect silence but for the scribbling of his pen. What on earth is he even writing? Erotic fan fiction?

Finally, he stands up, straightening his coat. He reaches out to shake your hand, and you bolt upright to answer the gesture.

"I think you're the employee we want," he says. "Are you available right now?"

"Uh," you reply, stuttering. You quickly yank your phone out of your pocket to have a look at the time. It's almost six in the evening. "Well uh, it depends- depends on how long you'll need me for?"

"All night," the man in the lab coat - whose name you don't even know - replies. Man, this is an extremely weird recruitment process.

"I'd have to call my parents to make sure that-" you begin, realizing that you didn't tell them that you'd be over here for so long. In fact, you should've called them like three hours ago, they're probably wondering where you are.

"They don't know you're here?" the scientist asks.

"No, they're-"

"Excellent," he exclaims, a broad smirk brightening up his face. Before you can react, he pulls out a small canister of something, like a pepper spray, and in one smooth motion gives it a shake and then sprays it into your face. Reflexively, you inhale, and it feels like breathing in cotton candy. Soothing, numbing cotton candy that feels like it covers all your limbs and mind, drawing all the tension from both, and then you're back in the chair with the man's arms supporting you as you melt away, into a vague sense of happiness.

It seems to only last a few minutes, or so it feels, but by the time you feel like you're in your own body again, you're in some sort of cage, in a fairly dim room. There aren't any windows, you realize, as you managed to force your vision into focus, so you're probably underground. In the lab? You stand up, your legs wobbling, and try the "door" to the cage, but it's quite securely locked and solid to the point it doesn't even rattle.

Then you're suddenly aware of something rubbing up against your leg and spin around in a fit on panic, ready to kick whatever it is, only to discover a single otter. Scared of you being scared, it dashes out between the bars, only to stop right outside, staring at you. It lets out a single squeak.

It looks like a regular North American otter, the river kind. Big silly nose, small beady eyes, and a colossal rudderlike tail that looks too big for its body. The belly is a little lighter than the rest of its fur, which is the usual otter brown. But you don't have time to focus on it, and instead grab the bars and yell for your captors. Of course, there's no response, just your own voice echoing through the building.

Defeated, you sit down. The otter takes a few steps towards you, before stopping when you stare at it. What exactly happened? Did you just get kidnapped by the zoo staff? That's absolutely preposterous, but you distinctly remember the interviewer in the lab coat dosing you with some sort of tranquilizer, and then you woke up here. What possible use would they have for me? What is this room anyway? You wonder, looking around.

It isn't dissimilar to a laboratory; there's a desk with a variety of instruments, although you only recognize a microscope. There's some sort of cabinet with beakers and vials full of liquids... maybe. It's hard to tell anything for sure with the poor lighting. The otter stands up on two legs to get a better view of you. At least that's a faint light in the dark, so to speak. Otters are adorable. Though you'd prefer it being in the cage and you outside.

Suddenly, what feels like a thousand suns light up with a loud clank. Extremely bright lights everywhere. You're completely blinded by the sudden change, covering your eyes in pain, but soon enough, you adjust. You call out again, but there's no immediate answer, although you hear the kind of crackling that suggests there are loudspeakers wired to a microphone somewhere nearby. So they're watching.

The room is very obviously a laboratory of some sort, but the light doesn't really help you identify any of the equipment; it's all way more advanced than anything you've used in school. You do spot some syringes on one of the tables which makes you feel more than a little uneasy.

You twitch when the otter noses at your foot. It's basically crawling on its belly, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Either that, or it's secretly a snake about to lunge for your throat, but that seems unlikely. It might just be as lost and confused as you are, a captive probably. It does make you wonder why they have an otter running arond the lab, though, as opposed to being in its own enclosure. Before you really have time to speculate, the speaker crackles to life, although whoever's on it doesn't seem to speaking directly to you. It's possible that they don't know it's on, you realize.

"...both subjects are awake and active..." someone with a deep voice says, trailing off as if they're turning the other way from the microphone.

"...been injected with the..." someone else replies. Whoever it is sounds like a woman, with a questioning tone, and you desperately try to figure to what the rest is, but fail. The otter looks at the camera with a curious expression.

"Yeah, should we start it now or uh..." the first person speaks.

"...touched him?" the second replies.

"While he was sleeping, yes," comes the answer.

That has to be referring to you. If_what_ has touched you, and what the hell have you been injected with?

"...don't need to do anything, just..." the other replies.

After that, there's nothing, just the quiet noise of someone moving around. Okay, you think, so I'm locked in a lab, have been injected with something, and something's going to happen because something has touched me. It's too many somethings, leaving a cold clump of anxiety in your stomach. But with no other options, you sit down and look at the otter again. It seems delighted by you doing so and approaches with a series of chuckling sounds, somewhat like a ferret. You reach out towards the curious mustelid, and it jumps back at first, but seeing that you don't intend any harm, it creeps closer in that peculiar belly-sliding way. You can barely see the legs move at all. If you weren't currently imprisoned in an unknown location with syringes, it'd probably make you laugh.

You manage to force a smile, for noone in particular. It's not it would understand a smile. But with no other company around, you find yourself anthropomorphizing it more than you normally do.

It sniffs at your hand, the bristly whiskers tickling your skin. It's a pretty big otter, when you think about it. Normally they're pretty small, but this one's almost knee height, you figure. Like a small dog more than an otter. Huh, it didn't seem that big at first.

Your head itches and you reach to scratch it, only to recoil in terror as you suddenly realize that you can't reach the top of your head. You're shrinking! But how's that even possible- it doesn't matter, the fact is that you're considerably shorter than you were before, and your arms are disproportionally shorter, like the forelegs of an... oh no.

The otter squeaks excitedly now, watching you slowly shrink into something similar to his size, but before either of you have any time to react, you fall over onto your arms - soon to be forelegs - on the floor, limbs cracking and aching as they reshape, some bones shorterning and others growing longer. Your entirely body tickles and tingles as a thick layer of brown fur starts growing in. You run your hands over it best you can, both confused and entranced by how velvety soft it is. Seconds after, you feel your fingers starting to stiffen up, thickening into the strange hybrid between toes and fingers that otters have, just barely articulated.

The worst part happens next. You've had a sinuscopy done once, at the hospital, and as your face bulges outward, a broad muzzle forming, it feels like that, only a thousand times worse. It's not painful, but it might be the most uncomfortable feeling you'd ever had, like you want to claw your entire face off to get it to stop. But stop it does, just as your nose retreats closer to your disfigured face, blackening and broadening into that of an otter. And at that moment, it's like you see into a new dimension. Feel, rather.

You can feel every scent in the air, as if it's a trail of color. Oh, and there's so many of them, ones you could never have imagined as a human, and your nose twitches and quivers as you rapidly try to sample them all. You know all of them, somehow. There's the somewhat arid tang of human sweat - human male - and there's the woman, just a little softer, and plenty of chemicals that they must use in the lab, the eye-watering lingering fumes of rubbing alcohol, and oh gods, the other otter...

He smells like freshwater and fish. Like living moss, like clamshells, like the oil you know your body produces to keep water out of your fur, like... distinctly male muskiness. Your entire body squirms without any input from your conscious mind, and you roll onto your back on the floor, wanting to get the variety of scents - particularly that of the other otter - stuck on your fur, and to leave your scent on the blanket on the cage floor too so everyone knows you were here- wait, what?

It's hard to think, and harder with each passing second. There's a series of rapid cracks as your new tail bursts from above your ass, the new limb wiggling excitedly, as if eager to propel you through water. Oh, you really want to dive underwater right now, desperately, if only to spin and roll and frolic through it, maybe catching some delicious fish - your mouth waters - and to entangle yourself with the otter in a beautiful, playful underwater dance, and to- to...

There's a pair of loud poofs and a sharp sting at your hip. You twist around, marveling at how flexible your spine is, suddenly, only to discover a dart in your flank and another in the other otter. He slumps to the ground, and soon afterwards, so do you, at the same time as your body finishes changing. You don't pass out, not exactly, but all your limbs feel far too heavy to move. There's a crackling sound as someone says something, as if far away, but you can't understand what exactly they're saying.

Soon afterwards, two figures in biohazard suits open the door at the far end of the room and step in, pressing some buttons on the wall. A siren sounds inside the lab, and you and your new friend are picked up, limp in their gloved hands. You can't really bring yourself to worry, even though the siren sounds threatening. Must be some decontamination procedure, you find yourself thinking. An errant thought that's hard to hold onto. What's decontamination? You're not sure, it all feels like foreign memories from a time far past, perhaps another life entirely. A sense of hungriness seems far more pressing at the moment, and you manage to produce a tired squeak at your handler, demanding a snack. He ignores you entirely, and as you're carried out of the lab the door behind you seals and a hissing sound is vaguely audible through it.

You are carried through several dimly lit corridors before emergencing out into the twilight. The sun's almost setting; it's the perfect time to play, and then sleep. You feel like you had other plans, but the thoughts just won't form. You recognize the place you're in, but it smells entirely different. There are many scents in the air that it makes your head spin; countless creatures of various ages, sexes, species. Though most of the human scents are fading. Must mean that they all left a while ago, which makes sense to you, given that the humans are active during day.

The two carrying you keep chattering. You don't have the faintest clue of what they're saying, but it must be important considering how serious they sound. Probably about feeding you, you can't really guess what else would be all that important.

You're placed in a central, fenced in area that smells strongly of other otters, the other male in front of you. The fencing makes you feel safe, since it means the other animals can't get it. Not that you'd be afraid anyway, being something like ten kilos of muscle and fury. The humans lock the gate and leave, leaving you two laying limply next to each other. You hear flowing water - and smell it, too - but it's just behind some bushes. You long to feel the embrace of cold water against your fur, but whatever the humans gave hasn't worn off yet, and your limbs refuse to follow your commands. Instead, you begin to fall asleep; as good as any other course of action, given that you're safe, warm, and can't move anyway. You hear the chittering of other otters, possibly just having woken up. The male in front of you manages to roll over to his side, apparently asleep and slowly regaining muscle control. This reveals to you his red, slick cock jutting out from its protective sheath, and you wonder what he's dreaming about.

Although it shouldn't arouse you - why, though? You're not sure - it does, and you feel your own sheath swelling in response to the sight, but not before sleep takes you. You're vaguely aware of others of your kin nuzzling at you, but being drugged, you sleep lightly until morning.

You wake up to the chattering noises of humans surrounding the enclosure. They're quite curious creatures, always watching but never acting. There's a faded memory that briefly surfaces in your mind, of living with a romp of them somewhere else, but you can't place it and it quickly sinks back into your subconscious. You stand up and stretch, squeaking joyfully. It's a beautiful morning, a great time to play, although you're hungry, so that comes first. It feels strange to walk around and you feel a certain urge to stand up on two legs, for whatever reason. Must be whatever those humans did to you. You can sense the distinct smell of fish and head towards that, already salivating.

One of the keeper-humans is standing next to the little pool in the middle of your territory, tossing out small fish, which the rest of you are already munching on the ground next to the pool. You spot a slightly larger fish falling into the water and immediately dive for it, slinking beneath the water's surface in a single well-practiced motion. It feels great to finally be swimming again, a good kind of tension surging through your muscles as your thick tail propels you towards where the fish was. The water's a little murky, but your whiskers tell you everything you need to know, and you _know_exactly where it is by the water it displaces. Soon enough, you've caught it, feeling it against your nose as you blow out a small bubble of air only to suck it back in again. Indeed, it's definitely fish, so you snap it into your jaw and swim back to shore with it, gulping it down. You repeat this a few times, sometimes racing the others to the bounty and winning each time, until you're full and satiated.

"That concludes the otter feeding," you hear the keeper say. Not that it means anything to you. "With our little furry friends now fed, they're probably going to get frisky in a moment, so if you'd like to help us discover if otters can indeed be gay, keep watching."

A murmur spreads through the crowd on the other side of the fencing. They sound excited, most of them anyway. One or two make sounds of disgust. They must not like fish. Weird. You just can't help feeling that something's off about the whole situation, even as you lounge on the ground, your belly full of delicious fish. Really, there's two distinct feelings; one is that you shouldn't be in this situation to begin with, although you can't really explain that. Sure, maybe being in the wild would be more fun, but it's not that bad here. It's safe, and the food is plentiful. The other feeling is like an unease about being watched, because clearly the throngs of humans outside of your little territory want something. You're just not sure what. There's absolutely no way they'd be this interested in just watching you and your friends lay there.

After a few minutes of relaxation, one of the other riverdogs approaches you. You recognize him as the one that was with you in the lab, given his particular scent. That was a weird time, wasn't it? You still can't remember how you ended up there. The otter nuzzles your neck affectionately, and then begins grooming you, sendng delightful shivers through your body. Something that you realize is strange is that there don't seem to be any females in your territory, only being able to scent other males. It's not exactly unpleasant, since you prefer the males anyway, with those musky, masculine fragrances and big, muscular bodies. Still, you wonder about it, because you can definitely smell females far away, you've just been separated for whatever reason. The humans better bring them back soon so the rest of you can get to making more otters.

And thinking of making otters, you are getting rather turned on by the other male's affections. You realize that you can smell the sharp tang of his desire, but there's another one of those unfamiliar feelings welling up inside you. You feel oddly... embarrassed by the thought of letting him mate with you in front of all these people. You're not sure why, surely it's only natural. The thought makes blood rush to your ears and you imagine the inside of them turning bright red, though it also makes blood gather elsewhere in your body, namely your sheath, and you roll onto your back to ease the growing discomfort of your cock pressing into the ground. You hear gasps from the human crowd and realize that they can see your arousal. Are they attracted to you? You'd probably try mating with one if they really wanted it, for some reason _that_particular idea doesn't seem wrong at all. Almost like you used to be a human, like there's some sort of shared kinship between you, but that's a ridiculous idea.

Any thoughts along those lines are quickly pushed out of your mind as the other male excitedly pushes his muzzle into your swelling maleness, giving it a few licks as if to make you grow even bigger. It feels very pleasurable, the growing arousal surging through your spine, causing you to squrim. You find your tail curling as you stretch out, your hips twitching on their own, pushing your engorged member against his muzzle for more stimulation. Laying there on your back, you see the humans covering the eyes of their young, some choosing to walk away instead of watching your lascivious display.

You squeak out with pleasure as his warm mouth engulfs your length and he laps at the underside. It only lasts a few moments, enough for your balls to start tightening against your body, a couple of squirts of precum shooting out into his mouth. When he's done licking you, deeming you aroused enough, you turn over again, rudder held high in an open invitation to him, showing your neediness to both your mate and the human crowd.

He clambers on top of you, pressing his sleek body tightly into yours, before grabbing the loose skin around your neck between his sharp teeth, pushing and nudging you until you fall onto your side. Of course, there's no way he could mount you with that thick tail in the way unless you're sideways, that makes sense. He twists his body - already humping into your hip - so that his curved cock points straight at your hole. It's very acrobatic, suitable for something as bendy as you. He never lets go of your neck as he pushes his hips forward, hindpaws digging into the dirt for leverage, trying to find the ring of hot, bare flesh that his instincts tell him to sink himself into.

And sink himself into you he did. Managing to angle himself just right, his pre-slickened member bumps into your asshole, catching right on the rim, and with another thrust, it sinks all the way into you, the sudden jolt of raw sexual pleasure causing you to chitter and squeak as you squirm against him, trying to turn your rear so he his full length can slip inside. With both of you wet with the water of the enclosure and your mate leaking preseed like a half-open faucet, it's a surprisingly slick penetration. His grip on your neck tightens as he stars thrusting, rapidly, and you're taken aback by how quickly your climax approaches, your limbs and tail quivering and your cock throbbing lewdly right in front of all these people.

It's a short, but very intense feral dance, and you know it'll be repeated in a few minutes. You arch your back as your cum sprays out in wet spurts, your mate's cock almost forcing it out of you the way he hammers into your prostate. He follows suit as your needy hole clenches around him, tensing up and then relaxing, breathing heavily and quickly into your neck. You feel his shaft twitch inside you, once, and then again, and again. You know what's happening, your mate is seeding you just like you both want, and you push against him to make sure every drop is safely deposited in your belly.

"Looks like we have definite proof that otters can be gay too! See, it's only natural!" the keeper says, looking at you lazily wallowing in the afterglow on a good breeding. "Be sure to take plenty of photos to commemorate the occasion, and join us tonight for the Year of the Otter party!"

"Man, I've never seen a male that needy," another keeper states, smirking as he looks at you two, before adding, under his breath, "Should try to get the boyfriend to... yeah..."

"I hope you have a good life," he comments, reaching down to stroke your tired head, only moments before your mate stars thrusting again, recovering as quickly as he climaxed. It'll be a long, pleasurable day.

Your days with the otters grow into weeks, and then months. You and your mate are inseparable, although occasionally you let the other males mate with you too while he watches with erotic curiosity. It's a happy life, although memories of another life keep coming back to you now and then, almost but not quite reminding you of the other family you used to have. But they're vague, and hardly matter, not when you have everything you need playing in the water with all your friends, eating delicious free fish and lazing about in the sun.