OTTERPOP - TG Story Fun version

Otter Pops:

(repost due to deviantart no fun policy. It was censored, but apparently not censored ENOUGH.)

The sand burned underfoot, tiny molten grains sneaking into the cuffs of Lyle the otter’s jeans. He shuffled, one hand clenched nervously in his pocket, and the other clasped a beach towel like a lifeline. All around him, sunshine spilled over the undulating curves of the shore—bright, hot, careless. Careless like the waves rolling endlessly, or like the crowds lying out on blankets with bodies glistening under the summer sun.

But not him.

For Lyle, the beach was an endless struggle. Specifically, a struggle to contain his erections, which seemed to rise and salute at every breeze, every soft glisten of water, every drop of suntan lotion on bare skin. “Getting an erection on the beach is the fucking worst,” he muttered under his breath, pushing his red hair out of his eyes and trying not to stare at anything that might make it worse.

“What's wrong?” came the awkward, halting voice of his friend, Troy. Troy, the one who never quite "got it." He wasn’t really bad company, but you could never tell what was going on in his head.

(Or, rather, heads—Troy liked to hide those facts in his fleshy, earthling disguise. Lyle had never known his friend was from off planet. Troy, or really, Troyzantis, tried blending in like any normal earth-being would, except his version of “normal” involved loud Hawaiian shirts and holding beach snacks at a perfect right angle to the sun.)

The otter-boy sighed, cheeks flaring a deep crimson. “Just... trying to keep it cool, you know? It's hard being a guy at the beach sometimes... Literally.”

Troy, ever helpful but never quite correct, furrowed his brow in thought. “This is truth? Hmm. A hard problem, yes? You are... struggling with your body, yes?” He scratched his chin, and before the otter-boy could explain, Troy reached into his mysterious beach bag—a bag that seemed to hold every kind of gadget and drink known to interstellar kind—and pulled out a shimmering soda can. “Here I have a beverage that may help your condition. Drink this. You will be... how you say... without erection? Chll?”

Lyle shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he thought. The liquid rushed down his throat, sweet, fizzy, and somehow... tingly? The flavor buzzed on his tongue like an energy drink, but tingling with a strange sweetness that left his tongue buzzing. Lyle took a few sips and soon enough, that familiar pressure in his pants seemed to lessen. He let out a sigh of relief. “Oh wow... Troy, dude, it’s working! I don’t feel my... you know... anymore!”

He tipped back the can until it was empty and sighed. Strangely, it wasn’t long before he started feeling different. Better, maybe? But... weird. There was a warmth flowing down through his body, chasing the tension away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel that insistent pressure bulging in his jeans.

“Wow,” he said, glancing down. “It... it really worked! No boner! I can’t feel my erection at all!” He ran a hand over his crotch, marveling at how smooth and soft it felt, his tail giving a little wag of relief. It was as if someone turned off the switch in his head that screamed “YOU’RE HARD.”

“I will leave you so you may continue your change,” said Troy, and walked off to collect specimins from the ocean.

That Troy sure is a weird one, thought Lyle. Minutes passed, and he grinned. Everything seemed perfect—too perfect, actually. Except... the warmth didn't go away. It spread like honey through every inch of his body, oozing through his limbs, swirling around his chest, his hips, his waist. His smile faded into a confused frown, his heart pounding. “Wait... wait, this isn't right.”

That's when the first swell hit him. His nipples tingled, hardening against the soft fabric of his shirt, and he bit back a whimper as something pushed out from his chest—round, plump, sensitive. “N-no... no no no no...” He stumbled back, his jeans feeling tight—too tight—and the seams along his hips ached as they stretched wider and wider, accommodating curves that hadn't been there before. He looked around, panicking, but instead of Troy a nearby beachgoer just continued basking in the sun, as if oblivious to his growing dilemma.

He started to open his jeans, feeling the seams split around his fuller hips, revealing the widening flare of his thighs. His jeans felt tighter and tighter until they strained against a new, uncomfortable fullness. He had to shuffle out of them as they tore at the seams, exposing the widening curve of his hips and the slim V of his waist. “No... no, this isn’t... I just wanted my... to go away!”

His breasts—oh god, breasts—now sat heavy on his chest, perky and uncomfortably sensitive. Each movement, each step made them bounce and jiggle in a way that sent ripples of unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. He wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but instead a deep, embarrassing heat burned in his core, pooling deep in a place he’d never known before. His dick was shrinking away, replaced by a terrible void of wetness.

“No, please, I don't want this!” he cried out, clutching his new curves, but his voice trembled with an unmistakable edge of arousal. The warmth wasn’t just making him different—it was making him want things. Dirty things. Things that made his fur stand on end and his head spin. “I don’t... I don't want... but I... I need...”

It felt like brainwashing—syrupy and sickly sweet, teasing his thoughts into submission. The beach, once a minefield of erections, now felt like a paradise of temptation, and he ached. He didn't need an erection—he needed an erection in him, something thick and firm, pressing against the slick, quivering need between his legs that he never knew existed.

“What the hell is happening to me?” Lyle stammered, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to push down the now-large, heaving breasts on his chest. He looked like... like a woman. A very busty woman. And then, to his horror, he heard footsteps in the sand behind him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” came a smooth voice. Lyle turned to see a stranger—tall, broad, and with a confident smile. “Need some help, beautiful? I couldn't help but notice... you seemed a little hot.” The man’s eyes roved over Lyle’s body, drinking in every curve, and Lyle could feel his own blush burn from his toes to the tips of his ears.

“I-I’m not... I'm not...!” Lyle tried to protest, but the moment the stranger’s hand grazed his shoulder, something inside him shifted. That heat—the one that spread like wildfire through his body—seemed to coalesce in one shamefully needy point between his thighs. No longer a problem of erections, but an aching need for one. His body trembled with involuntary desire, and the shameful, brainwashing arousal came flooding back, washing away his defenses.

“Oh... oh no, please... please—” But his voice was breathy, high, almost giggling with a hunger he didn't recognize as his own.

The stranger chuckled, taking Lyle’s whimpering as flirtation. “Don’t worry, babe... I gotcha.” He tugged Lyle closer, hands traveling down to those wide, plush hips. And to Lyle’s deepest embarrassment, he found himself melting into the man’s touch, his body tingling with need as if it were under a spell.

Oh damn, thought Lyle. I’m really going to do this. He’s hard as a rock, and god damn, I want him inside me so bad it hurts.

“This is going to sound a little crazy,” said Lyle to the stranger. “But… can I suck your cock for a little bit?”

Before he knew it, they were entwined in so many ways, sex had never been so overwhelming. Soon the two of them were pressed together in the sand, his thoughts clouding over as the heat between them grew, until his hips bucked instinctively, needing, wanting... finally finding satisfaction in that intimate collision. Tangled in limbs and fur and need. It wasn't love—he didn't even know this man—but the raw lust was enough to make that unbearable tension snap. A collision of passion, of friction, of body against body, until that maddening hunger was satisfied, until he felt full and dizzy with completion, collapsing against the beach blanket with a messy, satisfied grin.

Later, as Lyle lay sprawled in the sand, panting and dazed, his legs sticky and trembling with aftershocks, he glanced over at Troy, who stood by the waves with a look of awkward pride.

“Getting an erection on the beach is the fucking best,” he murmured, half-delirious and laughing to himself. The world spun in dizzying colors, and he knew, somewhere deep down, that nothing would ever be quite the same again.