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Chase had returned to his hometown happier than he had left his house, though he had lost pants and shirt along the way. The hybrid he had met, Shayla, had helped him find a place to get some clothes, which had taken frankly too long, in part because he had spent a while around her, basically fucking her for hours and hours and throughout several city blocks till they barged through the front door of her apartment with her bouncing on his cock. With his limits and inhibitions completely thrown out of the window, Chase discovered himself to be a sex machine, the kind that barely needs rest and can cum for nearly half a day straight without getting empty. Truth be told, he had always known he'd be good, if anything, he had a cock almost as long as he was tall, balls twice as wide as his torso and then some, he could cum hundreds of gallons without flinching but he never expected to be quite as insatiable as Shayla showed he could be. Or how messy, hungry for another taste of milk and pussy... he had arrived a virgin, returned reeking of sex, cum and milk to high heaven.

His replacement clothes were somehow fitting for his newfound confidence: a pair of shorts that did nothing to hide his junk, the compression pants having been torn the second he had opened the zipper and his balls had swollen and flopped out in a musk bomb. His cock was visible through the thin, stretched cloth, the massive medial ring, the absurdly fat flare, the entire length of his trouser snake curving along the swell of his otter-sized nuts until it was practically throbbing against his own taint. Hell he could feel cum splatter on his tailhole basically every other breath, something that normally was contained by the compression pants but that now was not only visible, as his monster cock throbbed with every gallon-sized shot of pre, but also audible and could be smelled by anyone within a hundred yards. His shirt read 'my cock is bigger than me' and his shorts had big and bold letters on his rump that said 'sniff me'. Before he'd have burst in flames just thinking about not wearing compression shorts, now, well, he didn't really care about being seen. He was still worried about public indecency sure, he wasn't where Shayla lived anymore, he could be arrested, but as he was he felt... free.

From the train station to his apartment, he could feel the stares on him and they felt good, oddly enough. Chase had felt envy, lust, curiosity, some more than common rolls of eyes in disapproval of his lack of proper clothing but he liked strutting what he had between his legs. A couple women had approached and asked to read what he had on his booty, and for some reason he had just grabbed them and pressed their snouts to his chest, letting them smell his musk wafting from his monstrously huge nuts. They had moaned and ran off with a wink and a kiss. A guy even asked him his number at one point, a twink cheetah with lots of piercings of all people. Chase gave it to him gladly and promised to be home for the next few days while he waited for some clothes that could contain his third leg. The cheetah showed up a day later and fell to his knees by the time he had taken ten steps inside Chase's now ruined apartment. They fucked so hard he flooded the building and got evicted by the end of the week. Chase had called Shayla, asked to help him score a new apartment and then he proceeded to cum on every single square inch of his old place, turning the entire building in a cummy, musky hole that smelled of ottercock and nut batter. And he felt proud.

From the windows of his new place, the otter smiled, looking down at the severe lack of clothes and inhibitions, people strutting with huge two footers, stroking themselves, cumming and enjoying life in such a wonderfully casual way. The smell outside was wonderful, a heady mix of cum, milk and ball funk, impossible to remove even with strong winds and industrial cleaner. His apartment was much, much worse: Shayla had helped him baptize the place in her style, meaning the two had spent two days cumming without end on each other and everything around them till the windows shattered and spooge was flushed out onto the streets, flooding half of the road and sweeping dozens off their feet. Despite her belly having grown with dozens of otter pups, she was in now way less horny, maybe more than before, her cock permanently hard and gushing cum with every breath, her nuts pumped full of a hundred strangers' load while her tits grew by the day, resting on her bloated pregnant belly. They had cum and cum and cum: windows, wall, floors, furniture, all had been coated in so much cum that the apartment was now his forever. Even if he were to leave, no one could say he hadn't lived there, not when the very walls reeked of his balls.

Waking up was a most pleasant affair these days: he'd be startled awake by his cock, sometimes because he hugged it and felt it throb hard in his embrace, sometimes because a wet dream made him hose the ceiling in heavy loads of otter cum that rained back on him, sometimes he'd just feel so pent up he started cumming as he opened his eyes. This morning, it was the latter of those cases: he had spent a good night, sleeping naked in a bed saturated with cum as usual, but as he opened his eyes and took the first conscious breath, he felt a pang of pleasure go from his nose to his groin, his cock flexed, hardening on the spot, all four feet of him jutting from a two feet wide sheath, throbbing for a good second before the floodgates were demolished. He sighed with relief, feeling his nuts groan and churn, his raging hard-on standing at full mast above him, the wall behind bathed in more cum than anyone had the right to spill with such ease.

He grinned, standing up mid-orgasm as if nothing was happening, his nuts touching the floor before him. Chase's junk had grown now that he was free of the compression shorts, no longer forced to restrain himself: from three and a half feet, his dick had turned into four, his balls going from three feet each to four, now dragging on the floor at all times unless he truly, truly did his best to empty himself. The otter hissed and made his way to the kitchen, gushing, moaning, hosing the walls in fresh batter, his nuts carving a path in yesterday's cooling layers of spent seed. He grabbed his phone and browsed the news, sitting on his own nuts while waiting for coffee to bubble from his fancy expresso machine, his feet idly stroking the mammoth spire and aiming it away from him at the same time. Each second, the otter would pump out nearly a hundred gallons of thick, musky cum, all of it flowing out of the door he kept open all day and all night. After having broken a dozen of them and over forty windows the first month alone just by cumming, he had given up on privacy or heat, not that the sheer amount of cum couldn't keep the house toasty and smelling just right.

As the coffee machine beeped and poured the first shot of the day, Chase murred and fired the hundredth of that morning alone, his person-sized knotted ottercock throbbing gently. It was going to be a good day once again.