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She was just an otter like any other. Everyone else like her lived happy little lives, with nothing major ever happening. Her daily routine was always to either sit at home, write, and have a walk, or sometimes, to go to write at a nearby café. All rather pedestrian pursuits. Average ones. The kind of activities that should guarantee that nothing bad would ever happen to her.

Crack.

Sure, she wasn't all that average on the inside. She wrote both horror and erotica, after all! But those were just fantasies. Fantasies that she had thought about living out, at least the ones she could live out safely, but...

Thump.

...nobody in their right mind would, right? No, she was content - regretfully so - to just keep following her regular schedule for the longest time. An uneventful life was best, anyway.

Rrrrrrip.

A gnarled branch tore through her flimsy top. Fuck! She cursed herself, under her panting breath, for not dressing in something more practical. It wasn't like she could've known she'd end up running through a nearly pitch black forest, with someone only a mere few steps behind her. That didn't make her feel any better about it. The branch must've left a scratch, she realized, clutching her arm as she ran, trying desperately to avoid rocks, roots, anything else that wished her harm resting on the forest floor. She could only barely see vague outlines.

Somewhere behind her was her pursuer. He was bigger than her, far bigger. Far more dangerous. Hopelessly stronger. Faster, too. Her only advantage was that she, as an otter, saw better in the inky gloom of the woods. If she could keep going until he inevitably fell, perhaps breaking a bone, she had a chance.

Each of his footsteps cracked twigs and even branches, hooves digging into the soft ground. It had been a mild October, and the frost hadn't arrived yet. On one hand it was a blessing. She wouldn't freeze to death if she managed to escape. On the other, it afforded the massive equine much better footing.

She ducked under a thick branch, only moments before it'd have hit her. Her heart was racing, mouth tasting like pennies, like copper. Like blood, she realized. But the beast hunting her didn't want her blood. No, what it wanted was between her legs, the wetness dribbling down her thighs even now. She was in heat, and the wrong person had noticed.

It'd been a day like any other, with the otter making her way back home after a long day at work. She worked mostly with other women, and so, her heat wasn't an issue. She'd never liked how the suppressants made her feel, and it'd never been a problem. She wasn't the kind of otter who'd spread her legs for strangers just because she was in season. Today, though, it'd caught the attention of someone else. Someone new.

She'd realized that she was being followed the moment she got off the bus, practically feeling a pair of eyes digging into her back. At first, she assumed it was nothing, his footsteps matching her own against the damp asphalt - but then, he'd sped up. She hadn't dared look back, not wanting to see how close he was. But she could hear him breathe, nostrils flaring as he took in her fertile scent.

She had realized there was no way she'd have time to call anyone, or outrun him, not on the empty streets. Though already trembling with dread - realizing that she was very close to getting raped, to getting bred by some lusty brute right there and then - she had barely managed to steel herself enough to pretend like nothing was wrong. By the time she got to the last, narrow stretch of the road, where the city's ever-bright lights melted into the darkness around it, she'd darted off to her right, diving into the undergrowth and dashing through the trees. It'd taken her pursuer a precious few seconds to follow, as if not sure if he wanted to risk it.

But those primitive urges and instincts were too strong. To him, the otter was a mare in heat, and he was going to breed her.

Her sex clenched with a certain need. Her body knew what it wanted, even if her mind disagreed, and it was doing its best to help it happen. There was no way any male would lose track of her, not with the erotic fragrance that trailed behind her. Signposting her readiness and desire. Turning normally intelligent men into mindless animals in rut, eager to spurt their seed into her thirsting womb.

She knew that feeling him press against her would do the same to her, too. The reactions would be primal, irresistible, undeniable. If he caught her, she'd be moaning for him to breed her. But as long as she managed to keep her distance, she'd be safe. As safe as running aimlessly through dark woods could be, at least.

The otter leapt across a small creek. Had it been bigger - a river, maybe - she could've easily escaped. As it was, she could only hope her pursuer would trip on it. Yet in just a few seconds she heard a sound like the flap of wings and then a thud on the other side that she'd just barely cleared. Of course it had wings. Like some kind of nightmare, where every little advantage she had was slowly being eroded away by the heavy hand of fate. At least he couldn't fly, not with the dense trees.

And it probably has a huge cock. Heavy, full balls, eager to pump their contents into me. No! Bad. You're going to end up with a swollen belly. Focus, for fuck's sake. Do you really want to get knocked up by some monster?

She knew that was pursuing her wasn't a monster, not in the literal sense, at least. But it felt like one, to her. A threat, a sense of dread that followed her at a breakneck speed.

A little more of her wetness trickled down along her legs. Her panties were soaked. Her body's response was simple, easy to understand. It almost made her want to submit. It'd only be natural, after all; a bitch in heat claimed by the first eager male she came across. She didn't want it though, didn't want to spend nine months pregnant, increasingly homebound, horny, and hungry.

Those intrusive thoughts distracted her just enough that she didn't pay full attention to what laid in front of her. The next branch slammed into her forehead with a meaty thump, and for a second, the otter saw saw stars. The next second, she literally saw stars, far above the forest canopy. She was laying on her back in moss and mud, and before she could recover, the male had already caught up to her. His eyes glimmered in the faint light, blue-furred body muscular and firm, and that ready, equine cock even more so. He had taken the opportunity to unbutton his pants while she laid flat on the ground, it seemed. Unwittingly, the otter licked her lips, seeing that pillar of virility loom above her. He was dripping, just like her, and a generous drop of it splattered over her nose.

She bolted upright just as he tried to grab her shoulders and dashed off, rounding a tree and doubling back on the same trail. She was quicker_than him, even if not _faster. Maybe she could lose him on the way back. God, the musky scent of his precum was soaking into her nostrils. Her legs felt weak, knees wobbly, and her tail entirely too eager to nudge up and present her sex for him to fill. No! She couldn't allow herself to get raped like this.

He was playing with her. He could've pinned the otter down and taken her right then and there, could've thrust that thick, flared shaft into her helpless body and claimed her. But he was confident that he'd catch up again, and maybe she could use that against him.

The forest, she realized, had been a mistake. On the street someone could've seen her, even in dead of night. Out here, nobody would be able to interrupt her insemination. She had to get back, had to- gods, she could barely breathe, heart beating so fast it almost felt like it was vibrating. The adrenaline would run out eventually, but she had a real chance to outrun the nightmare.

Despite the terror, though, there was that other instinct, the one to just surrender, present herself, and let her pursuer make her belly swell. With the pheromone-laden scent filling her lungs, it felt like an increasingly pleasant fantasy rather than a dreadful worry. He wouldn't hurt_her, just give her what she _needed. The otter stifled a moan as her soaked, stiff clit rubbed against her cotton underwear. She bit her lip as she ran, hard enough to draw blood, the pain offering the briefest distraction from the unwanted images of herself on all fours, the male's cock throbbing inside her.

Around her, the forest was silent, but for the occasional buzz of some insect, rendered sluggish by the cold, the hoot of the rare owl on the hunt, and the quiet rustle of the wind through dry leaves. Two sounds drowned it all out; the thrumming of blood in her ears, and the heavy hoof-falls of the thing chasing her.

She almost stumbled again as her increasingly clumsy feet caught on a rock, but she recovered, catching herself on all fours, leaping forward like an animal, and getting back up on her feet. She was getting careless, she realized. The fear she felt kept her moving, but it didn't help her pay attention, and there was something erotic to it. The feeling of simply being prey, despite her sharp fangs and claws. The promise of pleasure, were she to surrender and submit, the relief of not having to run any longer, and the mind-melting pleasure of feeling a male seed her heated womb.

The otter noticed, suddenly, that she could no longer hear her pursuer, and so she stopped in turn, doubling over with her hands on her knees, remembering just how exhausted she was. The cold air felt almost painful to breathe. He couldn't have given up. Even if he had, there were many things that lived in the forest that would do worse. She didn't want to get pregnant (though she felt an empathic twinge in her lower belly as she thought that) but being eaten would be worse. She could almost imagine a pack of wolves hunting in the dark. Unlike the equine, she'd have no chance of escape if those found her.

She didn't actually know if any wolves lived here. Unlikely, as close to the city as they were. Yet, that did little to keep her from twitching as she thought she saw the outlines of one beast or another, only to realize that it was only a stump, a rock, or a bush.

Her normal, everyday life seemed so far away. Somewhere past those dark trees was her comfortable, warm bed. A cup of hot cocoa waiting to be made. A yellowed book to flip through and dream of these scenarios through, _safely._Yet, in a way, she felt more alive than she'd felt in years. Her heart was beating faster that she could remember it ever doing before, and her slinky body was full of an almost manic kind of energy, a triumphant sense of victory - too early, she knew - but a welcome one nonetheless.

That same energy, though, made it harder to ignore her heat. This was, she imagined, how all those people who lived in the moment felt. Those who got accidentally knocked up from a night of wild fun. Though perhaps their lives didn't involve the mind-warping fear that constantly threatened to wash over her.

She heard a footstep, clearly. A heavy breath following it. Adrenaline surged trough her body again and she set off running, but that brief respite had shattered her focus. The ditch she had easily cleared one way was suddenly an insurmountable obstacle, a nasty trick played by some uncaring deity. She fell, and instantly knew what this was it. The male was only a few steps behind her, and the impact of falling chest-first against the small bank was enough to knock what breath and energy she still had out of her.

And there the otter laid, almost sobbing, more with frustration than with fear, as she heard him approach, and moments afterwards, felt his strong, firm hands on her hips. Try as she might to get up, her limbs were simply too sluggish with lactic acid and dread in equal measures.

The male snorted, whinnied, and pulled her tight yoga bottoms off, the button over her tail popping open easily. She could smell her own need, which grew by the second. It was almost enough to arouse herself, so how it was affecting the equine behind her was no great surprise.

She looked back, briefly, as he tore through her panties next, exposing her dripping sex the cold outdoors air. A pegasus. _ A studly one_, her traitorous body told her. Naked from the waist down, and his cock rock-hard. Ready to give you those pups you want. His hot breath billowed out as he inhaled her intoxicating scent, drawing greedy lungfuls of it. That equine shaft throbbed with need. With how wet the otter was, there was nothing she could do. Already her hips were nudging into position on their own, sensing her surrender. Her tail flopped to the side to present her slit, drooling with lust.

The rational part of her told her to resist. But was far too late for that. She quivered as his rough fingers slid along the length of her petals, pressing at her entrance just enough to make her plump lips part around the digit. It sent jolts of pleasure through her body, each erotic tingle making it very hard to focus on those thoughts of somehow mustering enough energy to get up and run off again.

Those firm hands splayed her wet lips, and he briefly pressed his flaring nostrils right against that vulnerable seat of her femininity. A brief lap of his tongue over the bare, needy flesh. And then he was over her, strong arms pressing the side of her face into the muck as he mounted the otter.

Feeling his incredibly hot, flat crown press against that part of her, the reality of the situation finally sunk in. He was going to breed her, claim her, and there was nothing she could do except let nature take its course. The thought of feeling him buck and throb inside her was already threatening to drive her wild with desire, and once fighting it was no longer useful, she gave in. With a needy moan spilling from her lips, she relaxed as much as she could, letting her body fall into a natural mating position. Not that she had any choice, but it felt better to surrender consciously than to be forced. And so she did, letting her body move according to those instincts, aiding the unknown's male in fertilizing her.

The blunt tip, in one sharp thrust, sank into her wetness, spreading her wide, so wide that the otter, for a moment, thought she couldn't take it. It almost felt like he was stretching her very hips, the bones themselves rearranging to reshape her body for him. He didn't, of course, but the sensation was impossibly filling regardless. Like a hot iron pole burying itself deep inside her, only one far more likely to create life than take it.

She groaned. It wasn't an entirely bad feeling. She was made to take males like this, after all. All of biology had conspired to allow her to, and to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for the male doing it. But with how big that engorged horse-cock was, it was giving nature a run for her money.

She tried her hardest to relax. Yet, as the ever so slightly swollen flare rubbed over that secret, sensitive spot inside her, she squirmed and clenched, growing wetter still. He sank further, ignoring her whimpered protests, each short thrust burying his cock deeper than it'd been before. Until that cum-slit at the very end of it would be pressed right against her cervix, she thought. Where his seed would have nowhere to go but into her fertile womb.

The medial ring slipped through her clutching inner lips, and there was a thump somewhere deep inside the otter's body. Not a painful one, if uncomfortable, strange, and leaving her wheezing for breath. But she imagined her cervix lovingly, traitorously, kissing his cocktip.

He began to rut her properly. Long, deep strokes into her heat-struck, drenched passage. Her silken walls clutched and squeezed at his beautiful length, caressing it, eagerly trying to fulfil the purpose of that blissfully tingling cum-catcher between her legs. The purpose of her very body; to receive male's seed and conceive.

The jolts of pleasure each thrust scrambled her thoughts into shattered reveries of pleasure. He wasn't gentle. Soon, he was pounding into her with reckless abandon that rocked her entire body against the muddy ground. She could feel her belly bulging with his cock. Oh, it'll bulge much more, soon. And you're going to enjoy being a mother, that treacherous, horny side of the otter's mind reminded her.

The pegasus leaned over her, crushing her thick tail against her back, and bit her, hard, on the shoulder. His teeth felt sharp, like those of a true predator. The pain drew another moan from her lips as he continued the frenzied rutting. Thump. In. Squelch. Out. She was drooling out her lust around that pillar of throbbing virility, her body clinging to it each time he pulled out. And a joyful sparkle of erotic bliss that washed over every inch of her trembling body as he sank back inside. His teeth dug into her pelt. Hard enough to draw blood, she thought, feeling a warmth seep into her fur. In a way, it was only appropriate; he was going to mark her insides in a most profound way. What was a little mark of his _ownership_on the outside too?

He let go of her for a moment to reposition, and it wasn't before he grabbed a hold of her thick tail and resumed stroking that bestial cock into her that she realized she could've probably used the opportunity to escape. It was only a fleeting thought, one that her tingling, thrumming cunt quickly pushed out of her mind. She was just as horny as he was, now. Just as eager, in all but the deepest reaches of her rational mind, to help him succeed in seeding her, mind awash in pheromones and pleasure, happily submitting to the powerful male looking to give her a foal or two.

It changed how one thought, being claimed like that. Worries about getting knocked up turned into anticipation. She felt the pegasus throb inside her and realized that her mouth was dry with anxious anticipation. As his medial ring kept stretching those already taut lips, pressing against her still little clit in just the right way, she recognized that she was going to cum. The pressure was already building up, that vibrating, fluttering kind of tension that left her body weak and eyes teary with ecstasy.

She was going to cum like a feral bitch, getting mated and knocked up by some male she didn't even know, in the middle of a dark forest. A full surrender to those heat-fuelled instincts. If it wasn't for the constant moaning, the otter realized that she would've been begging for it. Somehow, the thought only edged her closer to release. Being a mindless animal felt good,_and she _wanted to be bred like one.

Another throb, another small measure of him swelling further inside her fertile body. Time seemed to slow down. From how his hips were moving - feverishly, erratically - he was only moments away from spurting his cum into her. The anticipation was intoxicating, maybe even more so than her cresting pleasures. And if, when_she came, she'd be priming her body to accept his seed. _Oh. Oh, no-

Of course, it was too late. She was past the point on no return, and with a loud, needy moan, she came, fully giving into the sensations. Her assailant grunted, neighed with satisfaction as her passage quaked around his thick shaft, signifying her total surrender as it milked lovingly at his length, a rapid series of begging convulsions, trying to squeeze his precious, life-giving cum out of the hefty orbs that kept slapping against the otter's swollen clit.

He was all too happy to oblige. Not that he really had a choice, no more so than the otter. His teeth found her scruffy neck and he bit down, hard, snorting and whinnying as his mare's body coaxed him into a mutual climax. Her eyes rolled back as he hilted himself as deep as he could go, a lusty quiver rippling through his muscular form as he throbbed in rhythm to her clenches.

She felt the first heavy buck of his cock inside her, followed by a forceful injection of something wet and warm. She knew what it was. And it was such satisfaction, something beyond what any male could imagine; her body drinking deeply of his plentiful and potent offering, drawing it deep into her fecund core, and rewarding her by dissolving her mind into incoherent pleasure. Wet, sticky, thick pleasure. She was just his prey, being bred. As it was meant to be. There was no escape, now.

She came over and over for what felt like minutes, each ecstatic quiver and convulsion sucking that mess inside her deeper. He filled her to the point that her belly was visibly bulging, with rope after rope of his pearly essence. It'd bulge more than that, once his little swimmers did their job. Deep in the throes of pleasure, the otter embraced it all. Embraced her future as a broodmare, as a warm cocksleeve for the pegasus-stallion to breed time and again, filling her womb with this wonderful feeling of utter _rightness_every time he felt that swelling urge to.

It was over all too soon. He collapsed on top of her at first, only barely managing to push himself up again, enough so not to crush his newly minted, freshly bred broodmare. And for several minutes, they laid like that, as merely a cock and a hole, a male and a female, predator and prey; primal, pure, and simple. Their combined breaths were visible in the chill air, intermingling just like they were in the deepest reaches of her womb, where his semen would just now be reaching her eggs. At least in her fantasies, it did. Countless brief, fleeting, erotic visions of them melding together, inexorably.

Her clumsy, trembling hands reached for her chest, and she squeezed lovingly, imagining her breasts filling with sweet milk for their offspring. Every part of her body hurt from the rough mating, but she didn't mind. It was worth it. The warmth inside her kept her in a state of warm, satisfied heat as the male slowly regained his senses, utterly spent and satisfied.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the two of them returned to reality, to real life. With their mating finished, the pegasus pulled her up into his lap, wanting to keep her warm and safe rather than having the poor otter rest on the damp ground.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, a little out of breath. "I wasn't too rough, right?"

"Nuh," the otter giggled, with a dopey grin on her face. "Though you might have to put some iodine on those bites just in case. And uh..." she shivered. "...maybe carry me home, my legs feel like I just ran a marathon."

"Well, so did I," the pegasus snorted. "More like a sprint I guess. Oh, and uh... maybe I got a bit carried away with the biting," he added, sheepishly.

"Yeah," she replied, curling up against his strong chest. She felt even smaller now than she had when playing the prey, but in a very good way. "But you're a horse."

"Pegasus. There's a reason we don't usually run in forests! You know that bit when I stopped? I ran right into one of those waist-high rotten stumps and it..." he cringed. "Well, I had to take a breather. But at least they still work, right?"

"Do they ever," the otter giggled, wrapping her thick tail around the pegasus. She could still feel his cum inside her, thick, warm, and potent.

It hadn't all been fantasy. She really was in heat, and right now, she was imagining her friend's little swimmers inside her, seeking to fertilize an egg or two. She hoped that it was possible, at least - neither of them had ever seen hybrids like theirs would be. The thought made her feel all warm and fuzzy, especially with the half-drunk post-coital blissfulness. Oh, they'd keep trying at least. As long as she was in heat, and as long as he could catch her.

He set off walking back towards the city, and the otter's home, at a much more sensible pace than they'd kept before.

"How about the whole chase? Did you like that?" he grunted, while holding her tightly. She wasn't that light, but he wouldn't let her know. He did owe her a lot of love and affection after all that, unable to quite remember a time when he'd cum quite that hard. There was just something primal about it, something rare and strong, about conquering a female like this. His balls were still aching from his release, feeling empty, sex drive having checked in for the night.

"Yeah, I did," she murmured. Her eyes were slowly falling shut. "It kind of feels like a nightmare, except the ending is much better. Oh..." the otter paused, as if trying to fight back the urge to just nap in the pegasus' arms. "...maybe I could write a story about it?"

"Nuh-uh, you wait with planning the stories until tomorrow. Just rest, for now," he replied, but before he'd even finished speaking, the otter was already snoring.

He walked the rest of the way in silence, wondering what their offspring would look like. Until his seed took, though, they'd certainly have a wonderfully exciting, eventful week or so. A perfect break from their ordinary lives.

If he could catch her again. It hadn't been easy. He'd failed once already. But each time he did, it'd be more likely to be easy the next time. After all, successfully escaping him with a big, swollen belly and all those lusty, pregnant hormones would be just about impossible.

He smiled, leaning down to nuzzle between the otter' ears. Oh yes, there'd be plenty of more fun to be had.