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The forest was bathed in sunset. In a few minutes, it'd sink beneath the craggy mountains at the horizon and invite the night. The beautiful forest would transform into a place of phantasms and illusions, of trolls and ghosts formed of the twisted tree-branches. The Blackmarsh wasn't a good place to spend the night for those with a vivid imagination; the trees were old and gnarly, foxfires would lure travellers into the swamps as if guided by an icy, malevolent consciousness. Yet, here the two men were, waiting for the moon's rise.

"So what's it gonna be?" the older of the two asked, fixing his icy stare on the younger one.

Dammit, he knows I don't stand a chance, the younger one thought, trying to keep a neutral expression. He was almost visibly sweating, he couldn't lose this.

"So?" inquired the dominant man, clearly confident that he had the upper hand.

"I... I..." the younger one stuttered. "Fold."

Jace threw his cards on the table and his brother burst out roaring with laughter, revealing his hand with a meagre ace high. Jace had a pair. "Goddammit!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist into the table with a growl. "You're way too good at this, Jacob."

"I'm not that good, you're just terrible. I always did beat you in everything..." Jacob replied with a smirk, putting his feet on the table and leaning back. "I'd do it again, too, but look at the time. We have to get going soon." He continued, motioning towards the clock on the wall.

"Does that thing even work? I don't think I've seen it moving." Jace replied, pulling out his smartphone. "...it doesn't, but you weren't too far off with the time. Half an hour to midnight." He commented, standing up to look outside. It was still quite light for being so late, but then again, in the summer the sun barely set. The moon was up there, though, with its foreboding light red glow.

The two brothers had found this abandoned cabin and decided to wait there. Both were in the business of hunting werecreatures, and while it paid well, they both preferred a run-down building to a tent in the forest, especially on a night like this. It was the night of the blood tide, when wereotters, or so the legends went, swarmed the forest.

"Wereotters, huh. I still can't believe we're even doing this." Jace muttered.

"Well, they're as foul as any werewolf or werebear, though I doubt they're as dangerous. But the pay's the same, as I told you before." Jacob replied, lighting a cigarette.

"Just feels like we're gonna be slaughtering helpless animals, brother." Jace sighed, frustrated. "What's an otter going to do, squeak at us?"

Jacob brined. "Oh, I didn't tell you that part. They don't kill, they seduce people."

Jace mouthed a silent "What?" rubbing his forehead.

His brother's grin broadened even more. "Well, that's what they say. They'll fuck you until you turn into one of them. It sounds about right with how playful otters are. But..." his expression turned more serious, now. "Still can't let that happen, though. Like all werecreatures, they're a disease. They're simply less like the furious rabies of the werewolves, and more like... a venereal disease."

Jacob burst into roaring laughter again, so hard he almost fell over, his cigarette falling onto the cabin floor, clearly highly amused by his own wit. After that, both of them went silent; it was too late in the night to lose focus with games again, yet too early to hunt. Jace listened to the wind as it blew through the cracks and broken windows of the decrepit cabin. Had he been new to the business he could've easily imagined howls carrying on the wind, with every creak of the old timber it was built of startling him. But he'd been doing this for years now, and though he was not as experienced as his brother, he was just as jaded to the things that go bump and growl in the night. He'd fought worse things than otters - the idea of actually hunting otters still didn't seem right to him - and this was nothing in comparison. He thought back to the werecrocodiles and shuddered.

"It's almost time", Jacob finally said after a long silence, jolting his brother from thoughts. "The moon is high and red. Get your weapons ready, bro. Let's head out to hunt."

Now, Jace could feel his instincts priming as he double-checked his rifle, the crossbow he kept strapped to his back for prey that needed more than what a bullet could carry, the knives of various materials at his waist. Satisfied that everything was where it should be, he nodded to his brother while loading a bullet into the high-bored rifle. It was an old model, but it was an heirloom from his father, and more than capable of punching a hole through most things. Except the crocodiles, he thought, but shook the memory from his mind.

So out they went, brothers both. The wind had stopped at some point, which was both good and bad; it wouldn't reveal their position, but it also wouldn't warn them of any dangers that lurked ahead. While most humans couldn't scent things such as wereanimals on the wind, the brothers had been trained since birth to recognize such things.

They moved through the woods towards the swamp-framed lakes where the beasts had last been sighted. Barely a leaf rustled in the still night, their quiet breathing the only sound. Voice communications were out as per usual protocol; instead they used quick hand signs and body language. As Jacob navigated the path in front, Jace had his rifle ready at the slightest hint of movement in the woods. His sight had adjusted to the darkness and he kept moving his eyes, never focusing on one spot for too long. The best way to notice things in the darkness, especially the glowing eyes of animals, was with peripheral vision.

They could smell the water before the lake was visible. Not that they had to; the ground beneath their boots and turned from solid forest floor to a squishy marsh. No matter how quietly they'd tread there'd be some amount of noise. At least our socks won't get wet, Jace figured, grateful for the boots.

At first the silence when the brothers sighted the lake was reassuring, but it was too quiet. Was it the wrong night? Jace glanced towards the sky, as did his brother. Sure enough, the moon was out, and it had the red tinge that was supposed to signal this night. Had they been misled? The brothers exchanged meaningful glances, tinged with anticipation and frustration. For several minutes they waited, keeping their watchful eyes on the water's surface, but there were no disturbances. Not even frogs. The whole situation felt wrong. There should at least be frogs and insects, the younger of them thought. This has to be a t-

"TRAP!" his brother shouted, swinging around to point his rifle towards the tree crowns. Trees? Jace wondered, his body on autopilot and rifle already ready, mimicking his brother, as all hell broke loose.

Jacob lost his footing as if his feet were yanked backwards and fell face-first into the mud, landing on the stock of his rifle. Before Jace could react, what seemed like hundreds of otters jumped him from the trees, many more emerging from the lake. They weren't wereotters - or so it seemed - but rather wild ones; though their allegiance was obvious. It wasn't unheard of for wereanimals to keep normal ones as pets, but he had never seen it to this extent. As it turns out, aiming your rifle with several heavy otters were hanging onto it, swimming and nipping at your fingers was impossible; Jace quickly let go and drew his knife instead, but by then he had too many otters on him to keep his balance. These little fuckers are much heavier than they look. Much stronger too. He fell to into the mud, barely avoiding having his face buried in it. His knife-arm was still free, but he couldn't take more than ineffectual swipes at the happily squeaking mass of otters. They all smell like fish. That must be what Jacob noticed, Jace realized, accompanied by the more terrifying realization that he might smell the same if he didn't get out of this predicament, and fast.

He had feral otters all over him, nipping and biting him, and there we so many of them they were effectively pinning him down into the muck. Funny as hell, Jace thought. If this wasn't the most horrible thing I could think of. He tried reaching for his rifle only for the chittering horde to swarm over his arm. He watched in desperation as several more of the otters assembled to nudge his rifle even further out of his reach.

Jacob was in a similar predicament, right in front of him, held down by a writhing mass of brown fur and thick tails. Stronger as he was, he was slinging otters left and right, but it wasn't enough. The goopy mud was already enough of a hindrance, and with what seemed like hundreds of mustelids, even his strength wasn't enough to break free, even though he was most certainly assuring many of them would wake up with the worst back pains of their lives.

Then, Jace saw several larger shapes rise out of the swamp waters. These ones were clearly anthropomorphic, and the human didn't need any help in figuring out what they were; actual wereotters, apparently choosing to coexist with their feral brethren instead of turning them into werecreatures. Their forms were sleek, but distinctly masculine nonetheless, an observation supported by the full sheaths, vaguely illuminated by the red-tinted moonlight, that came into view a second later.

One of the creatures approached Jace, the other Jacob. They quickly proceeded to take the brothers' weapons, most of them at any rate, including the knife in Jace's hand, which the wereotter pried open with surprising ease. He was surprised by the strength of the normal otters earlier, and more so at the sheer power of the wereotters. He expected the otter to latch its jaws onto his neck at any moment, but instead he felt a gentle lick, before the large mustelid began to undress him. Jace didn't resist, being disarmed; no point in having his clothes torn also. The otters seemed playful, rather than wrathful like werewolves, which gave him hope. He noticed that the other otterman was stripping his brother, with more aggression due to his resistance, but something more alarming stuck out; the male was clearly getting aroused, his bright manhood peeking out of the swollen sheath. Jacob noticed it too, but just as he opened his mouth to shout the otter tearing his clothes off pushed his face into the mud with surprising ease, abruptly cutting him off. But it wasn't as if Jace didn't know what was coming, and the thought made his blood run cold. They don't fight, they seduce people. His brother's words echoed in his head.

The problem was compounded by the fact that he was gay, and the musky scent of the otters combined with the increasingly lewd actions were affecting him in ways he absolutely did not want to be affected in at the moment. Jacob, on the other hand, was struggling as hard as he could, putting up impressive resistance against the wereotter, almost managing to draw one of the knives they had missed, but that attempt was cut short when a third one approached and joined the first in keeping Jacob down while they tore his clothing off. Then it grinned towards Jace with a knowing look, giving his sheath a few good strokes, his glistening red manhood looking far more alluring than it should've. Jace looked away quickly, blushing. Surely these animals couldn't smell that he was - he realized that his now-bared cock was half hard and quite visible, as he was now on all fours, fully naked.

The otter who had been removing his clothing was now behind him, rubbing its - or should it be his? - paws over Jace's sides. They were rough, but not unpleasantly so, and the constant touching as the otter's paws ran back and forth over his body had him relaxing, against his instincts. The natural otters had retreated by now, though they hadn't gone too far, keeping their small beady eyes on what was happening. Jace felt surprisingly comfortable with their stares. A thought shot through his head; maybe it won't be that bad, they seem friendly. And hot. He blushed even harder at the uninvited second part.

Jacob was still struggling, though it wasn't doing him much good with two of the otters holding him down. Both were already fully hard, and one kept finding apparent amusement in rubbing the slimy length of his erection into Jacob's face. The other one was trying to position himself properly for mating, though he seemed to have some trouble with the strong human constantly squirming underneath him. Jace watched what was happening as if he was viewing the world through fogged glass. Maybe there are some pheromones at work. Maybe they only work on gay people? Maybe females? He pondered, trying to snap out of his relaxed, increasingly aroused state. He felt surprisingly unresponsive to his brother's yelp of pain as the otter finally managed to thrust his cock into the human's resisting sphincter, though the knot of fear in his stomach remained. With a few tentative strokes, the wereotter managed to sink his shaft to the hilt into Jacob's ass.

The otter handling Jace didn't seem to be in a hurry, as he kept stroking and licking the human's body. His nose was cold and made him twitch every time it touch a sensitive part of him, but the licking and strokes were far too soothing, and he found himself leaning into them. Like some animal.

He didn't even notice when his impromptu lover positioned his cock at his bare ass and began to push. The otter was slick with precum and natural oiliness, but it still hurt when the fat tip spread him open. He could only imagine what his brother felt like. These otters were big. Before he could protest, the otter was all the way inside him. Jace couldn't help it, he clenched around that massive cock buried deep inside him. This elicited a pleasured sigh from otter, and he clenched again. It felt amazing, despite the tinge of pain. Only moments ago he had been planning to shoot the otter, now all he wanted was for the otter to shoot inside him, ideally after breeding him properly. Maybe it was the pheromones, maybe it was the wereotter infection taking root, but Jace thrust his hips back with a breathless moan. He wanted to be this otter's bitch, his mate to rut whenever he felt like it. And that was before the beast started thrusting.

Jacob, on the other hand, was in pain. He didn't want this, none of it. The relentless pounding of his prostate had him hard as rock, but there was nowhere in the world he'd not have rather been. He'd given up resisting, however, and when the other muscular otter noticed it, he quickly eased his slick manhood into the human's mouth. It twitched, squirting watery precum over Jacob's tongue. At first the human gagged, but he could feel his head swimming as the otter's taste and scent really got into him, and he didn't mind when the otter thrust all the way into his throat, burying his nose in his fluffy crotch. The smell was intoxicating, and the taste... there was something wrong about it, but Jacob instinctively licked the dripping head of the ottercock when it was withdrawn from his throat. It tasted strange, but he couldn't stop himself, and soon he was slurping away at the slick meat eagerly. The otter rutting his ass suddenly felt better. Maybe it's not that bad.

Both of the brothers had started changing. Jacob was further along than his younger sibling, his face cracking and stretching as it painlessly grew into a muzzle for the excited otter to fuck. Brown fur was spreading over his body, from his head to his legs, and a big, muscular tail was forming over his abused ass. Jace's transformation had started at the rear, and he already looked like one of the wereotters as far as his waist. His cock was growing redder, his foreskin growing fuzzy as it formed a withdrawn sheath that his new, bestial maleness hung out of. His thick ruddertail was instinctively curled upwards as it formed to let the stronger male have easy access with that fantastic cock of his. Jace's fingers felt like they were sticking together, which he attributed to the mud first in his lust-addled mind, but quickly saw that his hands were growing webbed like an otter's. As his tail started forming, it didn't hurt, and even if it did, the pain was drowned out by the pleasure of the fucking. The length of fuzzy tail started thin as a rat's, before fattening out, growing against the chest of the otter on top of him. The fucking went on for a while, the grunts and moans of the five otters growing louder as the two brothers changed fully, the heat of their primal mating warming up the cold night around them.

Eventually, the big otter fucking Jace started to grow erratic in his thrusting, growling as he gave the new ruddertail a few more hard thrusts before burying his cock up to the balls into the former human's soft body. Jace felt the thick length throb and jump inside him, and a pulsating feeling of hot warmth flooded his body with the thick otterseed. It felt fantastically right, somehow, and when the otter's hand wrapped around Jace's new, bobbing ottercock to finish him off as well, he couldn't really understand how he'd ever wanted anything other than this. He came almost immediately, his entire body overwhelmed by a wave-like tingling orgasm that swept from the tip of his new, thick tail down to his webbed toes and felt like it set every hair of his soft brown fur on fire. His ass clamped down on his lover's cock as if milking it for every last drop, and he sprayed his own cum onto the muddy ground in heavy ropes, punctuated by his jagged, sharp breaths and moans as the last bit of his humanity left his body along with the seed. He collapsed under the bigger otter, but found himself pulled tight to his warm body, wet and sticky with mud and cum. He felt as if he was floating as he watched his older brother getting fucked in two ends by the other lutrine beasts.

It didn't last much longer. He saw his brother shudder and then cum without touching his cock as the otter grunted, thrust once more and then held himself inside the former human, his cock visibly pulsating. The one fucking his new muzzle didn't last much longer, groaning as he visibly unloaded his balls down the older brother's throat. Jace wished he could've been on the receiving end of both of those loads, fantasizing about how creamy, salty and erotic the undoubtedly massive squirts of thick otter cream must've tasted, and subconsciously clenched his ass around the softening cock still inside his own ass, prompting the otter to nip his neck with apparent satisfaction. Then he started moving his hips again.

After being repeatedly bred by the two otters and a few more that felt like having a go, the brothers were quite affectionately accepted into the wereotter tribe. Granted, their roles ranged from "cocksleeves" to "stress relief" for the longest time, and they had to put on the occasional incestual show of brotherly love for the others. But they both agreed that it was a much more fulfilling life - both literally and figuratively - than being hunters had ever been.

Of course, other hunters would still come occasionally, and promptly get converted in similar orgies. But those are stories for another time.