FSE

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The beach. It's practically become your life since you went to college. The university is only a mile from the beach and the water is a lot closer than that if you go to the marina. But you go to the beach. That's where the sea life is.

You walk along the tide line, eyes open for anything interesting. And for you, 'interesting' means the local wildlife. You spot a couple of dolphins far out in the water. You've heard stories about the dolphins here. They are very...friendly. You still haven't got used to the cold water here, though. One of these days you'll have enough saved for a wet suit. Though a wet suit would sort of get in the way, wouldn't it?

The breakwater stretches out into the waves. Here and there on the rocks you see the brown fur of a sea lion. They aren't pretty beasts, to most people. You aren't most people. You approached one just yesterday, but when it woke and found your hand stroking down its belly it snapped at you. You never did find out whether it was male or female. It wouldn't matter, not to you.

The itch you want to scratch is illegal. Tolerated, but illegal. The local cops will look the other way given the chance. People fuck the dolphins and other animals here all the time, or so you've heard. If you do it in public, though, they can't look the other way. Indecent exposure. That's somehow harder to overlook than the fact that you want to fuck the animals. And someone's bound to take pictures. You don't want a future job interview to include the HR person watching a video of you balls deep in a sea lion.

Out in the waves, half a mile out maybe, the flash of an orca fin. The things you'd do to an orca. You've seen pictures. Orcas are impressive.

Just being on the beach makes you hard. You wear an oversized T-shirt that covers your groin so no one sees the bulge. Twenty-one years old, second year at college. You should be worrying about classes. Instead you're wondering how long it will be find a friendly local beast.

You're coming up on the pier when you see the beach bum sitting with his back to a rock. You've seen him before. He's here every day. One of the people who these days are called homeless. Lives on the beach, sleeps on the beach, finds bottles and cans in the surf to turn in, maybe panhandles for spare change. Beach bum, indeed.

He's watching you go by. He has on flip-flips, a straw hat, sunglasses and shorts. No shirt. It's impossible to tell how old he is. Somewhere between thirty and sixty, you think. Graying stubble is one clue but he's so weatherbeaten from years of beach life you can't be sure.

"Hey." He looks up from the sand. "Got twenty bucks?"

You walk faster, making your way down to the tide line. Just ahead is the shadow of the pier and all the pilings are covered in mussels. If he moves you're going to run. There's no way he could catch you before you're past the pier and back where people can see you again.

"Twenty bucks and I'll get you what you need." He hasn't moved and you're past him. But something makes you hesitate.

"You don't know what I need, old timer." You turn and look. He still hasn't moved.

He grins. His teeth are awful. "Don't I? Look." He stretches out his leg. Four white dots appear from his shorts. Fang marks. Something bit his leg. Something the size of a tiger.

He's got a towel draped over his back that you hadn't noticed before. He flips it off and turns around on the sand. That's when you see it. That's when you step closer.

His back is crisscrossed with healed scratches. More bite marks, too. The freshest scratches are two sets of five claw marks on his lower back. Something was hugging him close. Something scratched him.

The claw marks disappear under his shorts. He was naked when he got scratched. Whatever it was scratched him from shoulder blades to butt. While he was naked. While something hugged him tight, belly to belly.

He grins again. "Dolphin." He points at a series of dots on his shoulder. "Sea lion." The four white dots on his thigh, with lesser scars between them. "Can't show you the orca, that was a dislocated shoulder though. I was young and stupid once too, y'know. Now I know how to do it. How to not get scratched or bitten."

He has your full attention now. "Your back is still scratched."

He laughs. "Aw, that's Dolly. She can't help herself and she's got sharp claws. I get her too excited and I get scratched. Worth it."

You think about that. Five claws per paw. "Sea otter?" Big sea otter. Really big. Some of the ones here are as big as the sea lions.

"That's right, boy. Twenty bucks, I'll introduce you."

A couple in tourist outfits wanders by and you shut up until they're out of sight. "And then what happens?"

"Depends on whether she likes you or not. Can't control that. She likes me. She's liked most of the people I've introduced her too. Most of them ended up with scratches too. Dolly, she..."

"Gets excited." You hesitate. Briefly. "Look, I got fifteen on me. No cell phone, no credit cards. I'm a college student, fifteen is all you'd get no matter what."

He watches you over his sunglasses for a moment. "Let's go meet Dolly."

You told him the truth. All you have is the fifteen bucks you hand over. If he's leading you to a mugging he won't get any more. You live on dorm cafeteria food. Not a starving student, but a poor one anyway.

He isn't leading you to a mugging. He leads you under the pier and through a maze of mussel-covered rocks, pilings and tide pools. You've been by here twenty times and never saw the entrance to the maze. Only the locals know about it.

The there she is, a fuzzy, dozing sea otter. Just as big as you expected, too. More than ten feet long from whiskers to tailtip, with webby paws that raked the beach bum's back over and over. Soft brown fur covers the water-weasel. You want to touch her. More than touch her.

She blinks awake and peers at you, her eyes like black marbles. Long whiskers twitch as she looks from you to the beach bum, then rolls over. She's half in a tide pool but her lower body is dry. The abundant fur covers her so thickly her sex is only a crease until she lifts one leg. Then you see it.

"Take your clothes off, boy," the bum says. "And go introduce yourself."

You look around, but the rocks and pilings block your view. You can't see even a sliver of beach or another living soul except that beach bum. That means no one can see you. Ten yards away is a sea otter the size of a tiger. Sharp claws, sharp teeth.

Scratches on your back. You want scratches. You want to get her excited. You don't hesitate. Your shirt hits the sand even as you step out of your shorts and leave them atop your sandals. Her fur is soft as you climb atop her and the stroke of it is maddening as it slides across your hard-on. You could go off right here, rubbing yourself against her belly.

You want more than that and she shifts herself to make it easy to get it. Webbed forepaws reach out to hug you close as your cock slides in. She's soft and wet and tight. You're really doing it. You pump into her and she purrs like a huge cat.

You hear the bum chuckle behind you. You don't look. He's probably jacking off right now but you don't care. This is what you've always wanted, ever since you got morning wood. Your few human lovers were always a disappointment. No fur, no claws.

The sea otter's webbed forepaws grip you tight and her claws tickle. She hasn't scratched you yet and you want to make her. But she's breathing harder, breathing warm and fast as she curls down over herself toward you. You're nose to nose now and you stare into her inky eyes. She sniffs, then a wash of tongue comes out to caress your tongue. An otter kiss. You almost cum right there. You're thrusting hard and fast and it can't be long now.

Your lust builds and builds and finally there's no holding it back. You buck atop her, spending yourself in an animal for the first time in your life. With a long groan the lust drains out of you, or spurts rather. You're staring at her leathery black nosepad, savoring the moment, when suddenly everything goes moist and pink.

You blink. It takes you a second to realize Dolly just yawned. That second is all the time she needs. With a scrape of fangs she pushes her jaws over your face and there is a long slippery press of flesh as her gullet expands to take you in. By the time you tense her jaws are around your hips. She swallowed you to the waist in one easy slide.

Your fingers dig into the thick soft fur of her belly, where you gripped to get purchase to fuck her. Hot wet throat presses in, squeezing your arms against your sides. Your cock is still buried in otter pussy even as half your body lies in her throat.

More than half. As you open your mouth to protest this treatment Dolly swallows. She's stretched around you like a fur coat but inside that fur are powerful throat muscles that grip you and pull you deeper.

Your fingers grip her belly fur with desperate strength as she works her jaws over your hips and ass. It's already too late for struggle to save you. Your still-hard cock pulls out of her, receives a single lick that turns into a push as she swallows again. Her tongue bunches up beneath your balls and then they're in her throat too. Dolly lifts her muzzle. There's nothing but a set of kicking legs outside now.

'Hey!" You shout into the thick wet flesh surrounding you. "Help! Get help!" It's all gone so horrible wrong. You just wanted to put your dick in an animal. Not your whole body!

You don't hear anything through your new fur coat. The beach bum doesn't grab your ankles. That might or might not save you. Under her fur the pretty sea otter is solid muscle. Grabbing your ankles might well end up giving Dolly a double meal. Nor do you hear him shout for help. Hopefully he's running for the life guard, though. The two of them ought to be able to annoy Dolly into coughing you up, because at the rate she's eating you that is what it will take.

You squirm in the frictionless wet heat of her gullet as Dolly heaves her muzzle upward, bolting you down to the knees. Your still hard cock is a distraction as it slides along the soft fleshy throat wall but you manage to ignore it and hook your heels down with all your might, aided by the grip of her jaws around your legs. One heel thumps into her skull but it isn't enough to stop her and the other sinks into her bulging neck and whacks you in the butt.

You put all your strength into it and the result is a sore knee, a bruised heel and a charlie horse where you kicked yourself. There are long scratches where her fangs dug in as she swallowed you too, but you have much bigger problems to occupy your attention. Dolly stretches out her nose and swallows, and you scream in her throat as a rolling contraction of her inner muscles squeezes you even further into her body. Your face pops through a slimy sphincter into a place of wet folds and fumes that sting your nostrils. Your feet are in her mouth and stretched out naked in the otter's gullet you can only await the end.

It is not long in coming. Dolly tenses, arches her neck and swallows, sending you sliding helplessly down her throat. You feel the lumpy bulge move down her neck and swell out her long body, which seems to be mostly stomach. The long tube of water-weasel now has a suspiciously human-shaped bulge.

It is a very unhappy bulge and you do your best to make her as miserable as possible, throwing all your strength into the struggle. You're stretched out in a long pocket of flesh and though your new fur coat isn't thick the muscle around you is very strong. Your legs are pinned together and you can barely move your arms from your sides. You've been in this situation before while camping. This kind of sleeping bag is called a mummy bag but mummy bags aren't usually sloshing with caustic juices that burn you wherever they touch.

You squirm and kick and Dolly grunts unhappily. Her discomfort doesn't stop more acid from flowing in but you hope against hope you can nauseate her into throwing you back up. Otters have a powerful and quick digestive tract and you've seen all of it you care to, thank you very much. It's kick and struggle until she barfs you up or get a tour through her bowels and you know which outcome you prefer.

Dolly is still lying on her back and you feel her webby forepaws wrap around you on the other side of the fur, trying to hold you still for easier digestion. Your eyes go wide in the fleshy dark as something else presses against her belly as well.

It's a set of hands! Strong, skilled hands squeeze down on you, muffling your struggle and moving along the great bulge you make in Dolly's long, furry body. Someone is simultaneously giving her a belly rub to ease the discomfort and helping hold you still.

The new pressure forces a big bubble of air out of Dolly's gut and you hear her let out a long, satiated belch as the stomach walls squeeze in on you. There's less room to move now, less air and a lot more acid. You keep fighting just the same. You don't have much time left and your plans for this week didn't include a trip through a sea otter's digestive tract.

Sadly that is exactly the trip Dolly has in mind for you and with the help of the mystery hands she soon has you stretched out and nearly helpless. Acid is burning you everywhere as her stomach goes to work on her meal. A whole human is a lot of food but an otter's stomach knows what to do with meat, whatever flavor it is.

Dolly burps again as a weight presses down on your face. Something moves atop the otter, something smaller than she is. It is only a few thrusts into a familiar motion when you realize what is happening.

The beach bum never left to find help. Instead he helped Dolly squeeze you into submission and now he's on top of her, doing the same thing to the otter you did five minutes ago but in perfect safety now that her belly is full. You can actually hear his cock sliding in and out of her, not even a foot from your face.

You curse and squirm in the hot dark as the beach bum gets into his rhythm. It's clever, really. He worked out that the safest way to bone the highly carnivorous sea otter was to make sure she was full before he started. It's a great idea.

Dolly belches, and the last of the air leaves. There's nothing but sloshing acid and the rhythmic thump as the beach bum slams his hips forward. He has hours, maybe a whole day to fuck her before the bulge of you is gone and she's dangerously hungry again. It's a great idea all right. You just wish you'd thought of it first.