A Tail of Two Otters 

Sunday, May 02, 1999, 8:54 PM

Strega's Den
Strega's apartment is a long oval, fifty by thirty, with an arched ceiling 6' high near the walls and 12' at the center.  On the floor at one end is a huge polar bear hide, perhaps meant as a sleeping pad.  At the other is a niche that is evidently a 'bathroom'.  On the wall opposite the door is a food 'replicator' terminal and a drink dispenser.  Even from here you can see that the dispenser only has two choices, water...and blood.  A second drink dispenser has been recently installed next to the first, judging from the marks on the wall around it, and this one has a more cosmopolitan assortment of drinks, including many sorts of alcohol.
It is quite cool in here, perhaps fifty degrees fahrenheit.  Four light panels in the ceiling fill the room with shadowless light.    The floor is black stone, party covered by an assortment of colorful 'rugs'.  The walls are likewise draped with 'hangings'.  A 'plaque' hangs on the wall near the door.  The ceiling is covered with an odd coppery-looking grid, and every five feet or so a fist-sized black hemisphere in mounted in the grid.  There are two sets of shelves against the south wall, which seems to be populated exclusively by small, labelled crystal vials.  There are at least fifty, and many empty ones as well.
Obvious Exits:
  out  
Contents:
shelf2
shelf1
Polar bear hide
Sleeping basket
Overstuffed chair
Beanbag chair

Ruddertail is a some-what petite female otter, standing about 5' high and with a slender build.  She had lush dark, chocolatey-brown fur that covers her entire body except for a creamy white ventral stripe that starts under her chin and runs down to the inside of her thighs.  Her blue-green eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief.
She's "in the fur" at this time, Her breasts are fairly wide, but are small in height so as to maintain her streamlined shape, and the nipples poke out from the fur slightly, whether from cold or arousal or something else.  She has 3" wide black latex cuffs, with a number of steel D-rings in them, on her wrists and ankles.  There's a matching band around her tailbase and a broad latex collar around her throat, both with strategically placed D-rings.  Yet with all this, she still somehow seems to look innocent.
She sees you looking at her.
Carrying:
First Aid Kit(#64209)

Ruddertail has arrived.

> Strega pops his ottery head up from behind the beanbag. "Wurfle?"

Blunt whiskery muzzle, sleek streamlined body, heavy tail.   Strega is an otter, and a really big one.  Low to the ground, he still stands three feet high at the shoulder, fifteen long, supported by small clawed forepaws and larger hindpaws.  His head is relatively small, with folded-back ears and underslung jaw.  All attached to a neck the same thickness, and that to the slightly larger shoulders, that merge into the smooth cylindrical body.   His rump tapers into a heavy, cylindrical tail that accounts for about a third of his whole length.   He's covered with slicked-back dark brown fur, his throat and belly dark cream color.
    His short limbs barely keep his belly off the floor, and his longer hind legs make his arched back the highest point of his body.  Running, he sort of gallumphs along, bending in the middle and humping up and down.  But he'd much rather be swimming, or sliding down a nice muddy riverbank.
[ Strega noticed you looking at him ]

        Ruddertail smiles and wiggles her fingers in a shy kinda wave 'hello' as she take a look around the large room.  "..hi.."
> Strega appears around the edge of the beanbag, doing the wriggly otter-on-dry-land waddle.  "Wuf!" he proclaims happily, his claws clicking on the floor as he pads
closer.
 Ruddertail pads over quietly, looking a little nervous at being so close to something much larger than herself, but manages to keep calm and even smile.
> Strega pads up, and noses at your feet with his big blunt ottery head.  He sniffs, his short strong whiskers tickling your footpaw, and blinks up at you with little brown
ottery eyes.
 Ruddertail reaches down and lightly scritches along your cheek  with her hand, lightly tracing along your jaw.  "Wow, you're a big boy aren't you?..."
> Strega wrinkles up his muzzle happily, and wriggles his  long body like a jello-o (tm) otter.  He bumps his nose  against your thigh, sniffing.  Cooooold otternose!
 Ruddertail "Yeek!"'s and jumps back a little, looking rathar startled but still smiling, "Hey! That nose is cold.  Try warming it up before yo go sticking it in sensitive areas." :)
> Strega pulls back his head, his black nose wiggling as he  sniffs, taking in the scent.  He blinks at you happily, and  bobs his head up and down several times in a fluid rippling wave.  "Wurf...?"
 Ruddertail cock her head, looking at you and then looking along your body, taking in the size of you compared to her. "You are a _really_ big boy aren't you?"
> Strega wufs, and thrusts his head forward, wet nose  stopping short an inch from your breast.  "Wurfle!!"  He spins in place, claws scrabbling on the floor, and gallumphs  toward the huge beanbag, back humping up and down in that  ottery way as he runs.
 Ruddertail follows after you, still a little cautiously, but curious to see where you're going.  "Now where are you headed?"  She wanders over to the bag, watching you curiously.
> Strega scrambles up the near side of the beanbag, his big  webbed feet pushing deeply into it, and reaches the top.  The bag dimples under his weight, and then he slips over
 the top, disappearing from view as he slides down the steep far side on his belly.
Ruddertail slowly moves over to the beanbag, her tail swaying in time with her hips.  She carfully climbs up the same side, using her claws to help the ascent.  At the top, she peeks over the crest, looking down.
> Strega waits at the foot of the slope, and as soon as he sees you, he Wufs!  and runs around the edge of the big bag to start the scramble up to where you are.
Ruddertail eases over the top of the slope and slides down on her back, giving a  "Heeee....."  as she zips down and rolls a little at the bottom, "Heh, that's kinda fun." :)
> Strega's muzzle appears at the top of the bag, and he gives you an ottery grin, before sliding over the edge and down towards you.
Ruddertail watches you slide down the slope, moving out of the way before you reach the bottom so's not to get flattened.
> Strega wurfles joyfully, wriggling his long, heavy form like a jello-O (tm) otter, before dashing past you to the far side of the beanbag, and scramble up it, from the sound.
> Strega clambers onto the bag, squishing it down some more, and bends in the middle to look past his shoulder at you.  He wufs, and waits, wriggling a bit.
Ruddertail moves up, digging in her claws until she climbs up beside you and perches on top of the crest, looking down, over to you and then down again, resting one hand on your neck, gently scritching it.
> Strega follows you up with his eyes, and wrinkles up his muzzle happily at the scritching.  He noses your forearm, then turns and slides off the edge, doing the mudslide-play on the huge beanbag.  He slides to the bottom and pops to his feet, looking upward happily.
Ruddertail jets forward on her stomach, gliding down head-first, almost tumbling before straightening out and gliding to a stop before scrambling to her feet again.
Strega whispers, "I can't help but think of that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Fudd rides the unicycle into the lion's mouth.  Ruddertail .....ooo>OTTER" to you.
You whisper, "Ruddertail lol!'s =D" to Strega.
> Strega hops his forepaws off the floor, dropping back with a thump as he noses your shoulder, then spins, gathering himself for another sprint around the bag.  He waits...
Strega whispers, "That'd be a bit abrupt, though.  Not a first-date kind of thing, eh?" to you.
Ruddertail turns and scambles around the bag, reaching the back and starting to scrable up the steep side.
You whisper, "Ruddertail Heh, no kidding.. :)" to Strega.
> Strega bounds after you!  The huge otter galluphs along, catching up but not overtaking you, and climbs beside you until the two of you reach the top of the bag.  He pants, beginning to tire a bit, and slides down the far side on his belly, grinning an ottergrin all the way.
Ruddertail reaches the top and doesn't hesitate to dive head-first, gliding down, giggles and grinning all the way down, where she does a bit of a tumble/roll into a crouch and springs back up to her feet again.
> Strega turns and bounds!  for the low edge of the bag, but as he scrambles he just runs out of steam.  He collapses into the big soft spot at the edge of the bag, flopping on his side as he pants.
Ruddertail starts to head over to the steep side, then sees you flop down.  she pads over to you, panting a little herself and sprawls out beside you and rests, leaning against your side.
> Strega wurfles tiredly, and curves his thick neck to nuzzle your shoulder.  He pokes your side playfully with a big webbed forepaw, and his fat belly jiggles, drawing your eye to it.  His long, long narrow sheath is slightly bent by the curve of his fatness.
Ruddertail starts to head over to the steep side, then sees you flop down.  she pads over to you, panting a little herself and sprawls out beside you and rests, leaning against your side.
> Strega wurfles tiredly, and curves his thick neck to nuzzle your shoulder.  He pokes your side playfully with a big webbed forepaw, and his fat belly jiggles, drawing your eye to it.  His long, long narrow sheath is slightly bent by the curve of his fatness.
 Ruddertail giggles a little and leans against your belly gently, lightly ruffling the fur on your belly and chest with her hands.  She rests her head against your belly, listening to your heart-beat while scritching.
> Strega wriggles deeper into the bag, his fat belly bumping against your cheek...hard, not fatty, as though he were very full.  He bats playfully at your side, and you hear the gurgle and rumble of his innards as they work on whatever his big meal was...fish, presumably.
Ruddertail giggles and nuzzles against your paw, moving one of her hands over to caress along your arm and pausing to lick the webbing between the fingers.
> Strega blinks his little dark ottery eyes at you, and stops panting, recovered and distracted at once.   He twitches his baseball-glove sized webbed forepaw as you lick, and pushes his nose against your chest...by some chance, squishing your left breast firmy.  Sniff, sniff.
+++++Strega just smelled you!
Ruddertail giggles and lick-licks your webbing a little more before turning toward your head, nuzzling against your cheek and sniffing there a little.  Her paw caresses along your cheek gently as well, moving along the jaw a little.
> Strega turns his huge blunt muzzle upward, and tilts his head to rub his cheek against your own.  One of his forepaws brushes against your d-ring wristband, and he pulls your hand closer, nosing at the alien thing that interrupts your smooth fur.
Ruddertail cheek-rubs you gently, brushing her whiskers against yours, as she nuzzles against your cheek.  She lets you move the band closer so you can look at the band around her wrist and the rings on it.
+++++ Ruddertail just looked at you!
+++++ Strega just looked at you!
> Strega pokes his nose against the latex, then a d-ring, and loses interest.  He looks back up at you brightly.  "Wurfle!"  He flops his head back into the bag, his big webby forepaw falling heavily on your right knee.
Ruddertail smiles and rests her hand on your forpaw, and ruffles the fur before smoothing it out again, feeling the muscles and fur as she lays against your belly.  Her tail swishes gently behind her, tapping against your belly and every now and then bumping agasint your sheath.
> Strega blinks his one visible eye at you, and lifts his big streamlined head.  He sniffs, and takes his paw off your knee to smell it too.  He blinks again, and begins to sniff the bag, himself, and finally your thigh.
Ruddertail blinks, looking at you, then leans down to sniff the bag herself, then smells you.  Looking around with curiosity.
Bag ->The expected leather smell, and a deep muskiness...a whole array of odors.  
Badger, dragon, tiger, skunk, mink, ferret...more.  Deeper than just the skin 
and fur-scents...this bag is a memorial to lust.
Strega ->A heavy, wet muskiness of male otter.
> Strega bumps his nose against your thigh, inhaling deeply, and then pushes his great blunt head up atop your knee.  Sniff, sniff.  He bends his thick neck, pressing his cheek against your knee as he sniffs at your inner thigh.
Ruddertail leans to the side, away from your head as she takes a deeper smell of the bag and blinks, trying to sort out the smells.  She places her foot up against your shoulder as she leans over, taking another sniff of the bag and of you.
> Strega sniffs your thigh, his muzzle pressing in past your bent knee and his cold wet otternose touches the fur of your inner thigh.  A big webby forepaw lifts up and paws your hip, as he rolls onto his belly in the bag.  His muzzle presses forward, and he sniffs at you upper, inner thigh, inches from your groin-fur.
Ruddertail merph?'s, looking over at you, looking a little confused, her own lust getting fueled by the smells of the bag, jumbling her thoughts a little.  She sits up, resting her hands on the paw lying on her hip.
> Strega shifts his hindpaws, pushing himself forward in the big depression in the bag, and his other forepaw slides under your left thigh, as his first touches your right hip.  His muzzle turns from your thigh and without thought (he's an otter, after all) or hesitation pushes into your groin-fur.  WHOAH!  Coooooold wet otternose!
Ruddertail shifts position slightly as you move forward, then jumps, Yeek!ing and scrambling backward in surprise.  "Hey!"  She tries to pull her thighs together as she pulls herself back with her hands.
> Strega sniffs, his nose buried in your mound, physically pressing your outer lips apart and squishing your inner folds down against the entrance to your tunnel.  He snurfs, sucking in air and tickling your sensitive tissues, then his muzzle pulls back an inch.  He sniffs again, absolutely riveted, then blinks as you scramble back.  He tilts his head to the side.  "Wurfle...?" 
Ruddertail's folds leave a bit of her moistness on the tip of your nose as she scrambles back a few feet, blinking and looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion.  She folds her feet under her as she halfkneels/sits, watching you and trying to sort out her thoughts.
> Strega tilts his head to the side, and sniffs.  Sniiiiff.  He blinks, and tilts his head the other way.  Brushes a paw against his nose, sniffs it.  Then looks at you.  "Wurfle."
Ruddertail blinks looking back and slowly moves back toward you a couple of feet, on her knees, chuckling, "Don't surprise me like that." :)
> Strega wrinkles up his muzzle in a happy ottergrin.  "Wurfle!"  He stretches out in the bag muzzle resting on his forepaws at the end of the stretch, a couple of feet from you.   "Wuf?"
Ruddertail moves back over beside you slowly, and settles down beside you and snuggles against you, ruffling the fur of your side gently, and nuzzles against your side.
> Strega lifts up his big blunt whiskery head, the bends his thick neck so he can nose you in the side.  "Wuf!"  He noses a breast, watching it flatten, then sniffs.  Snuuurf.  He blinks, lowering his head to sniff at your crotch again.
Ruddertail giggles as you press against her breast.  She pauses, looking you over as you nose around her crotch again, keeping her thighs together.  She lightly scritches along your neck and behind the ear.
> Strega bumps his chin against your upper right thigh, taking a deeeep sniff of your mound-scent.  He pauses, lifting his head to enjoy the ear-scritch, then his muzzle goes down again, and this time his broad pink tongue laps out and strokes over your mound-fur, your closed outer lips.
Ruddertail smiles, scritches your lush fur around the ear as you sniff and bob your head back up.  She watches your head go back down and expects your to smell, but gasps sharply as your tongue drags across her outer folds, taking the few drops of her juices with it.
> Strega sucks his tongue back into his mouth, and seems to consider.  He licks his chops, tilts his head, and then his tongue comes out again, pressing through your groin-fur.  The strong wet organ tickles your outer lips, and with a second stroke presses one lip slightly to the sides, opening a narrow cleft through which still more scent rises.  Then pauses again, pulls in his tongue, and wrinkles up his muzzle.
Ruddertail blinks, watching you taste her and then dip back down for the second taste of her moist folds.  She squirms a little and starts to slide back from you while you are tasting her and sniffing. "H-hey!"
> Strega licks a third time, and a big webbed forepaw settles on your thigh, weight pressing you deeper into the beanbag.  His muzzle practically burrows into your groin, his furry chin trying to press between your thighs as he licks.  And again, settling down to it, his broad tongue soft and wet on your mound, your outer lips.
Ruddertail starts to scramble back just as your paw comes down, pinning her.  She tries to keep her thighs together, but there's no way she can match your strength.  She brings up her foot and plants it on your shoulder at the expense of exposing her crotch to you.
> Strega slides the other forepaw beneath your right thigh, the flexible paw wrapping around your leg near the hip and pulling it to the side, forcing you to spread your legs even more.  All unconscious, as his attention is riveted on the collection of scents, yours, a male otter's...his tongue presses in, explores your now-open outer lips before moving in to ripple firmly over your inner, sensitive folds, touch the entry to your tunnel.
Ruddertail uses the opportunity to secure her foot against your shoulder where it meets the neck.  She shifts her position a little and then pushes off your shoulder, starting to slide out from your grasp and farther along the edge of the beanbag, just as your tongue penetrates her outer folds, drawing a subconscious moan from her throat.
> Strega feels the wonderful taste/scent begin to slip away, and pulls hard at your left thigh, a spasm of strength that forces your knee to bend again, and pulls you back toward him by the sheer force of that grip.  His other forepaw pushes hard on your right hip, pushing your rump deep into the bag.  And all secondary, his whole goal to explore this wonderful scent, as his wide tongue finds the tight entry to your tunnel, presses hard, and squishes in, beginning to enter you like a male's member.
Ruddertail squirms, trying to get away and snarling sharply, "Stop that!"  She pulls her hand back, fingers spread and claws ready.  "I said let go!"  She suppresses a moan as she feels the tongue slither inside her sex, tight and unwilling.
> Strega is not a pet otter, but a wilderness creature, gentle and friendly but unaccustomed to taking orders.  His fascination is all, and he presses his tongue into you, to its uttermost reach of six or seven inches.  It strokes your inner walls as he tastes you, soaking up the odd and wonderful scent of a recently mated female otter.
Ruddertail snarls and places her hand on your cheek, digging in her claws to try to pull your off her, "I said let me go!"  Her right hand poised to deliver a swift rake in an instant.  She pushes her foot against you, digging in the toe-claws for traction.
> Strega squints his eyes shut as drops of blood appear around your embedded claws, and snaps his muzzle up and away.   His left forepaw leaves your hip in an instant as he moves to stand, stand right on your lower belly it turns out.  A quarter of his six hundred pounds drops square on your navel, as he pulls as your left thigh with his right forepaw, trying to get your claws out of his shoulder.  His head seems to lunge forward as he stands, appearing as if by magick three feet over your belly.
Ruddertail woooff!'s as your weight forces the wind from her lungs as you stand.  Her claws dig in instinctively, dragging a row of 4 scratches along your neck as your head is pulled away from her.  She brings up her free leg and kicks out with it, trying to find some toehold to get a grip to get away.  Her free hand reaches over and grabs the bag, trying to pull her out from under you.
> Strega grunts, yanking his huge head away from the pain, pulling at your left leg with his right paw.  His back arches as he struggles, and more than half his weight is suddenly pressing into that one paw on your belly.  Your right foot lands on his shoulder, claws digging in, and he whistles at still more pain as your footclaws dig in.
Ruddertail grunts, her fingers curling into your fur, digging in even more, despite the massive tug of war between you pulling away and her arm trying to not let go.  She lets out a strangled gasp as her chest compresses under the weight, forcing out the last of her air.  She pushes as hard as she can with her right leg, even as the left arm refuses to release your neck.
> Strega whistles unhappily as blood stains his fur, and rears up and flexes.  His left paw leaves your poor belly, thankfully, but his other still has your left thigh.  The grip literally picks your hips up off the bag, spinning you beneath him.  Your footclaws rip out of his shoulder and you land belly-down as he falls on top of you, his broad ottery chest thumping down hard on your lower back.
Ruddertail gasps in sharply, gulping air now that she can breath.  She starts to move away just as she's spun around, her hand still dug into your shoulder, twisting behind her back as she lands on her stomach, followed by your chest landing on her, wrenching her arm farther, causing the shoulder to pop out of he joint.  She lets out a sharp, high-pitched whimper, her hand releasing your shoulder instantly.
> Strega grunts above you, still hurting, and pushes his blunt muzzle against your nape.  His jaws part, and he takes your scruff hard in his fangs, the tough pelt squeezed painfully.   His forepaws sink into the bag on either side of your muzzle, a foot away, and his fat belly pushes down on your rump.  And then you feel the long hardness of his sheath, swollen fat against his bulging belly.  The licking excited more than one fur. 
Ruddertail whimpers softly as her arm flops to the bag beside her, the finger twitching slightly and the dislocation sending waves of pain up her side.  She blinks back some of the pain as she sees your paws sink in.  She blinks, feeling your sheath against her, causing her to squirm slightly, despite the firm grip on her scruff, "Noooo!"
> Strega bites down yet harder, and even your tough scruff gives, his fangs piercing the thick pelt.  You feel his belly shift, and a big hindpaw comes down just inside your spread-eagled left leg, then the other hindpaw takes its place just within your other knee.  He arches his back, his powerful grip on your scruff pulling you back so your legs spread around his paws.  Then the first hot touch, as his rump curls in behind you, his exposed cocktip touching and probing for an opening.
Ruddertail whimpers softly and squirms a little as your teeth dig into her scruff.  She tries to close her legs as you step between them and keep her from closing them.  A loud whine escapes her throat as she feels your hot cock touch her rump, "Please! Stop!"
> Strega shifts his belly atop your rump, and arches his back, his haunches spreading outward as he pushes his tip in beneath you.  It brushes hotly across your pucker, thankfully not finding that hole as it feels biiiiig.   Then his abdomen pushes against your rump, and a thick, pointed tip finds your cleft.  Without preamble he arches hard, burying several inches of the 2 1/2-inch thick member in your tunnel.  Another hard arch, and you're stretched wide, every millimeter of your tunnel stuffed full of hot otter shaft all the way to your cervix.
Ruddertail screeches loudly as her tight sex is forced open by your cock.  She buries her face into the bag, letting out a pitiful wail as your cock reams deep inside her sex, pressing against her cervix tightly, some blood adding to her fluids to improve lubrication.  She squirms wildly, moaning from her shoulder, as she tries to get away, but her movements only serve to cause her tunnel to spasm around the thick cock in her.
> Strega grunts above you, and pulls out with a shift of his hips, only to shove his thick hardness back in with a happy wuffing noise.  Such a friendly sound...a hateful sound, now, as the giant otter pulls back, and thrusts his enormous length in until it hits bottom.  And he's not using nearly all he has.  Just all that will fit in you...unconcerned with manners, or your comfort, or 'civilized' customs, he falls into the natural rhythm, back arching as he humps you happily.
Ruddertail whimpers loudly as your cock reams her sex.  She grunts and whimpers every time the tip hits her cervix, even as the repeated stimulation starts to cause it to open slightly.  She reaches out with her good hand, looking for some kind of grip and finding it on your right foreleg, grabbing it at the ankle.
> Strega grinds his heavy cock in and out, stretching your tight tunnel to the limit and nearly beyond.  He's used to having a partner smaller than himself, though one-sixth his size is a bit much.   But he's inflamed with he scent of your recent mating and the struggle, and lost in the happy humping.   He doesn't really care that you're a sentient morphic otter and he's not.  He just wants to vent his lust, and you're there.
Ruddertail whimpers, tears flowing freely as she's reamed open by you.  Yet, despite the pain, her own juices start to flow once more, greatly improving the lubrication and pleasure of her sex around your shaft.  She gasps and jumps every time your glans rams against her cervix, further dialating it open.
> Strega grunts above you, and you feel the deep wrinkle that forms between his full belly and his ribcage with each arch of his back.  And vanishes as he arches again, driving in.  Finding your limits, his heavy cock slamming in harder each time as his own lust grows.  And exceeding your limits, as he presses ten inches, a foot, more into you, until your cervix just gives up and lets his cocktip into your womb.  Just in time for a heavy shudder, a wuf!  and a heavy flow of hot precum, building steadily towards what can only be his own climax.
Ruddertail shivers as your cock bumps and rams against her, the thick cock sawing against her swollen clit with every thrust, finally causing her pleasure to surpass her pain and she pants softly, feeling your cock press hard against her cervix.  As the last barrier opens to you and your cock slides all the way into her deepest place, he lets out a loud moan.  Her sex reacts instantly to the feeling of your hot seed filling her body by triggering her climax. Her muscles clamp down and spasm like a vise around your cock, milking it firmly.
> Strega humps with the energy of a driving bellows, his hot cock-tip sliding ever deeper with each thrust, his hindpaws treading forward hard.  His muzzle bobs up and down with each frenzied arch of his back, his jaws lifting your head from the bag by his grip on your scruff.   And then a sudden powerful grip on his cock, forcing a heavy spurt of precum from him.   He grunts loudly, thighs shivering, and then they're spasming,  spreading wide as his back arches uncontrollably.  His tail smacks against your left thigh as he drives into your womb, hits the top, his cock swelling and bursting, spraying a geyser of thick ottercum into you, filling your inner depths as he arches and trembles.
Ruddertail whimper softly as she feels your cock deep inside her womb and then "Gurlk!"s as you lift her up by the scruff, tearing the skin a little more from her weight and the movements of your heavy thrusting.  She gasps even as her own climax continues and her thighs shiver from the strain of her trying to close them and being held open.  As your main climax hits, she barks loudly in pure pleasure, feeling the thick, hot cum deep inside her, like a hot-water bottle in her womb.
>  Strega grunts lightly, and relaxes above you, his climax tapering off from heavy spurts of cum to a steady flow of post-orgasmic seepage.  He settles down atop you, pressing your chest into the bag.  His jaws unlock from your scruff, and he nuzzles the back of your head, as you lie chin-down beneath him.  Almost as though apologizing...his right forepaw, freed from its need to support him, slides under your breasts.  It ends up beneath your chin, lifting it and supporting you gently.  By luck, he even did this on the side with no dislocated shoulder.
Ruddertail shudders as she feels the cum push out around the thick cock in her, her sex unable to contain it all.  She mostly collapses down when you release her, only to be picked up by your paw.  Her sex continues to spasm from time to time in a powerful ripple around your cock.  She lets out a low, slow whimper in pain and pleasure, her tears a mix of joy and agony.
> Strega wurfles quietly, a mellow, happy sound, the giant otter's lust spent in your depths.  He pulls with his right forepaw, lifting your head and upper chest from the bag.  His thick neck curves around, happy blunt whiskery muzzle nosing at your chops, your cheeks.  He wrinkles up his muzzle in a smile...and then his broad lower jaw drops open.  You have a moment's glimpse of his fangs, pink tongue, the dark tunnel of his gullet, before he rams his muzzle forward and takes yours into it.  Fangs scrape on your muzzle and chin as he pushes himself over you until your cheeks wedge into the sides of his jaws.
Ruddertail gasps softly and looks up, just in time to see your jaws open and she blink, uncomprehendingly as her head enters your jaws.  She seems to recover some sense, well, enough to start to realize that something's wrong here.  Her good arm feebly reaches forward only to meet the underside of your jaw as she lets out a muffled whimper, "W-wha?"
> Strega pushes his jaws forward hard and there's a moment of painful resistance as your cheeks wedge into his mouth.  His warm fishy breath washes over you...and then his jaws pop and creak as they unhinge around your head.  His lower jaw drops away, stretching on elastic tendons and his throat is suddenly a gaping tunnel, stretching over your muzzle as he takes your entire head into his jaws.  His free forepaw closes tightly on your arm, no pretense of play, a calculated effort to hold you still as he...feeds.
Ruddertail gasps as she starts to realize that she may be in some kind of danger.  She starts to reach with her good arm, only to find it pinned to her side.  She tries to move her head to block the passage, but it's just too large and gives up and instead tries to ignore the pain as her dislocated arm tries to move the fingers enough to grab your fur in a very weak grip.
> Strega curls around himself in the bag, holding you flat beneath his weight.  Your one undamaged arm, your only hope, is soon pressed hard against your side.  Fangs scrape over your scalp as he pushes himself farther over you, slick gullet stretching over your muzzle, sliding past your eyes...the light fades to a dim pinkness.  And over your head, pressing your ears flat.  His thick neck bulges slightly as your head slips into his throat...your neck follows.  Wide blunt otter jaws snug up against your sloping musteline shoulders...an impossible obstacle?
Ruddertail whimpers and cries softly as she tries to get some kind of grip with her pinned good arm and badly injured arm, but can't get more than a handful of fur, not enough to stop you.  She tries to open her jaws enough to bite something, but by the time she thinks of it, her head is already into the gullet, the blood and tears, if anything, aiding to swallowing her.  As her good shoulder touches your jaws with her injured one a few inches behind on the other side, a bit of hope dawns on her.
> Strega pulls you upward by his grip on your chest and arm, and forces his jaws as far as they will go to one side.  His cheek stretches over your dislocated shoulder, a shooting, agonizing pain as his unhinged jaws creak and take it in.  He twists his jaws the other way, and his fangs scrape the fur over your collarbone.  But not for long, as with a series of twists he pushes his muzzle over that shoulder as well.  Your head and shoulders in fur-tight hot darkness, he pauses for a moment's rest.
Ruddertail lets out a muffled howl of agony down into your throat as her shoulder is wrenched and pressed on by your jaws while it slides into your muzzle.  Her good shoulder follows and the handful of fur she had gets pulled from her weakening grip.  Weakening mainly from her blood-loss.
> Strega curls farther under himself, his ears rubbing the bag as he takes in your shoulders, begins to force himself over your upper chest.  The pressure on your injured shoulder is a constant agony, his tight throat constricting around you as he takes in another inch.  One breast, and then the other slips into his upper jaw, then into his wet, slick throat.  There is the faintest pink light, and the sound of his pulse all around you, as you are slowly swallowed whole.
Ruddertail whimpers again and cries out, hoping someone will hear and come to save her, the agony from the shoulder and the blood loss combine to reduce her ability to resist to almost nothing.  As one of her final acts to try to survive, her good hand grabs your lip in a deathgrip, digging in her claws.
> Strega takes you in to your elbows, jaws and throat stretched tight around you, and shifts his forepaws downward.  They slide along your forearms, one pinning your left wrist to your hip, the other finding the annoyance clinging to his lip.  Remorselessly he tugs, and your claws rip into and through his lip, tearing his fur and sending drops of blood onto the bag.  The annoyance soon joins its twin, pinned to your hip, and he thrusts his jaws forward again.  Your head slips the rest of the way down his neck, and then a new tightness, as his body takes you in.  Ribs creak and organs gurgle around you as head and shoulders are pressed into his torso, his jaws reaching your waist in a smooth, strong advance.
Ruddertail lets out another muffles groan of pain as her shoulder's wrenched again by the swallowing the pulls her in deeper.  She sobs softly as her hand is pulled free of you lip and pinned to her side.  She pants shallowly, as that's all she can to try to breathe in the tight gullet.  She squirms as much as she can, (Which is damned little) when she feels the new tightness around her head.
> Strega stretches his tight jaws over your hips, larger otter feeding on smaller and suddenly your hips are in his throat, and he's stretching, moving around you.  He uncurls, your legs and tail kicking and thrashing from his jaws.  He rolls over, rises to his feet, and lunges forward, you inertia holding you in place as he bolts another couple of inches of you.   Your feeble struggles bulge out he doubly-thick neck and swollen upper torso now, his jaws to your mid-thighs.
Ruddertail shivers as she feels the hips entering, knowing that those are the last things keeping her from getting swallowed whole. She kicks them weakly, trying to get free, yet now she starts to realize she won't.  She gasps in agony as her body's rocked by the gulp, wrenching her shoulder again.
> Strega closes his unhinged jaws on your thighs as strongly as he can, and pulls his muzzle back.  He forces you deeper into his throat by pulling his neck back into an ess, and the he swallows heavily, stretching himself back out at the same time.  Powerful bands of muscle move under the slick gullet-skin, pulling you inches deeper into his body with strong ripples of peristalsis.  His neck begins to shrink back towards normal, only your legs in it now, the rest of you swallowed into his expanded ribcage.  His jaws close on your knees, your calves, feet and tail the only trace left of the small otter who is becoming one with the larger one.
Ruddertail groans and whimpers almost constantly from the agony of her shoulder, which pretty much terminates her struggles.  She just lays limply crying and whimpering as her streamlined body is swallowed slowly; just a few little bits remain free, the tailtip twitching as she slides farther down the gullet. 
> Strega twists his head from side to side, and swallows again, his powerful throat gripping and sucking you deeper.  A stretch of his long body, and his jaws close on your kicking feet.  Only your tail-tip is visible now...and with a stretch, that's gone too.  His muzzle bobs as he swallows, neck returning to normal as you're pushed down into his even tighter body.  Trapped within his ribs, you can only wait, knowing the next swallow will be the end of you. 
Ruddertail shudders violently inside you, knowing that the end of her is very near and she's beyond the point of even crying or moaning from the pain, she just lays limply in agony, now starting to look forward to an end of her suffering.
> Strega arches his body, and more, and the pressure builds as he flexes around you.  He pushes you deeper into his torso, and mysterious organs pulse and gurgle around you.  Then the stretch, and you're pushed deeper, suddenly pop!-ping out of the tight ribcage...and against a strong ring of muscle.  He doesn't even have to stretch, as it parts, and you are pressed into his stomach, to join another recent meal, a slightly-dissolved vixen.  His flanks bulge heavily, belly droops yet more.  A memory...the heavy lump of his belly.  You've added to it now...two otters have become one.

The huge otter works you fully into his throat, and his jaws shut, cutting off what light was left.  From the outside, you're a long, streamlined bulge in his neck and body, and then he stretches, swallowing heavily.  You squirm, but there's no escape from the powerful ripples of peristalsis, as his gullet grips you and swallows you whole.
Otter's throat
A tight sheath of flesh, the otter's rippling muscular throat forces you ever deeper into his body.  His wet flesh surrounds you, pulse as strong in your ears as the creak and pop of muscles and organs as they shift aside to let you pass.  All is hot darkness...wait!  A growing light, and then a view to the sides.  The otter is transparent from the inside!  And ahead...the glassy throat ends at a black furry muzzle, pitiless glittering eyes.  The otter has swallowed somefur else?  Another contraction of the ottery throat, and you're pushed up against the nose.  The sable-furred muzzle suddenly gapes wide, and a powerful ripple of the otter's throat pushes you in.  Another ripple...you're forced in farther, the dark jaws stretching to take you in.  Inside the otter, another fur is swallowing you...the only way you'll leave his throat is to go 'down' into this new one.
       You're forced farther and farther into the stretching black jaws, the dark throat taking you in as the glassy throat spasms and pushes you in.  The otter's powerful throat pushes you quickly into the expanding weaseloid (?) gullet.  Its jaws close, and GULP...*again.*
Inside Strega's belly (#182630RLJ)
    It is hot, wet and tight inside Strega's stretched belly.  Not to mention dark.  You can hear the contented weasel's two heartbeats, slowing as she recovers from the effort of bolting you down.  Oddly, though it is slick and wet, you do not feel the tingling of digestive juices...yet.  There is air here as well, entering as you did, as she forces it into her belly somehow to sustain you. 
    You can feel the tight muscles of her belly pressing in on you from all sides, the throbbing as it strives to absorb you, and you know that soon the acid will begin flowing, and she will 'digest' you.  A bulge pushes in on one side of you, and you realize she is stroking her belly...and from her shivering, enjoying herself a great deal.
There's no obvious exit down there.
> From outside, Strega stretches, and wufs! happily, rolling onto his back in the beanbag.  He wriggles a bit, settling his new meal for better digestion.  *BuuuuurP*
Ruddertail shudders deep inside you, her shoulder almost forgotten as she lies in wait of what her fate will become.  Now not even crying anymore.
> From outside, Strega grumbles to himself, paws working as his swollen belly, moving you around within and squishing you against the part-digested vixen.  He wurfles, settles into the bag, and blinks sleepily, quite gorged.
Ruddertail lays silently curled up, waiting, not even knowing what will happen or even if anything will happen and she will be like this for the rest of her life.
>  From outside, Strega belches again, settling his head sleepily into the bag.  No longer concentrating on swallowing air to you, it's gradually expelled in a series of small belches, the air growing bad even as the walls around you grow warm and wet with the first acid.
Ruddertail shivers and despite her previous thoughts, she starts to cry again as the air dwindles and she feels the first hints of acid.  She weakly reaches out with her good arm and try to claw the wall ineffectively.
From outside, Strega wriggles, sighs, and drifts off to sleep, a last heavy belch expelling much of the remaining air from his belly. As acid begins to flow, there's little to breath, just the hot dark.  You have become one with the larger otter...just a part of him.  A meal, soon to be digested....
Ruddertail still claws as best she can for several long seconds before she finally passes out from lack of oxygen and lies, an inert mass.
> From outside, Strega settles into the bag, his near-sleep becoming the real thing as he lies curled around the heavy swelling of his belly.  His pulse and breathing slow as his body turns its resources to the digestion of his double meal, blood moving to the tissues of his stomach and intestines.  Your barely conscious form is wrapped around the softened form of the vixen, pressed tighter as his belly gurgles and shifts around you.  The walls of his belly ripple and work you tighter within them, as the acid flow increases, filling the spaces around your curled-up form with powerful digestive juices.  A tingle, growing stronger, as the acids begin their work, soaking through your slick oily pelt and beginning to reach your skin.  Your nose, pawpads, vent and cleft burn as strong acid soaks into them.  Beside you, the vixen's fur falls from her softening flesh, a preview of what's to come for you.
Ruddertail lays almost curled into a ball, barely able to register anything around her in her dimmed state of near-unconsciousness.  As the acid starts to fill the few remaining spaces around her, she instinctively tries to hold her breath, pinching her
Nostrils shut.  She whimpers softly in her chest when the tingling advances to a 
burning sensation around her nose, ears, eyes, slit and anus, the last two being particularly exposed with her curled up in an almost ball.  She pushes her head down slightly under her right arm, to try to ward off the burning a little, leaving her injured arm
still laying limply.
> From outside, Strega grumbles lightly in his sleep, his belly gurgling around you as more and more acid seeps into it.  The tingle on your skin grows to a burning sensation as digestive juices penetrate your fur, and worse is the growing agony at your exposed skin and bodily openings.  Your vent and outer lips burn in the juices, and your skin is scarcely less aflame, as the vixen beside you softens, her flesh beginning to liquefy.
Ruddertail's lungs burn from the lack of air, yet she keeps her breath held even as the agony of her shoulder is surpassed by the acid burning her sensitive flesh and skin.  Her legs quiver and then kick out in reaction to the pain, thumping against the walls of your stomach feebly.
> From outside, Strega's paws twitch, as a vague dream invades his sleep, but the otter's lust and hunger are both well-sated, the dream a dull and quickly forgotten one.  A brief glimpse of your pretty ottery self in the dream, a moment's excitement and then you are lost from sight, as you were lost when his hunger spiked after his orgasm.  Within his tight belly, your skin begins to soften, fur dropping out in clumps and joining the mass of honey-colored hair already there.  Your feeble struggles cause his stretched belly to quiver and bulge oddly...but it's not even enough to wake him.  Acid burns inside you now, seeping into your vent and tunnel, your pawpads already dissolved away to fluid.
Ruddertail's lungs cannot hold back any longer, and she exhales what little air remains and tries to breathe, only to inhale the acid.  She coughs reflexively, trying to clear her throat and lungs of the burning, but her instinct to breathe overrides that she gulps acid, drowning in it now.  Her body shivers and shudders as the new agony appears inside her, not just in her throat and lungs, but also into her most sensitive flesh.
> From outside, Strega settles into the deepest sleep of the night, as your skin liquefies, your flesh itself softening in the bath of constantly replenished acid.  The vixen beside you is little more than a skeleton now, and your digested skin and muscle begins to flow after hers, through the pelorus, into her small intestine.   As your flesh dwindles away, your nerves finally surrender, and the pain ebbs to a warm soft feeling.  You are near death, little air left in your filling lungs, your skull exposed, and acid eating into your eyes and ears.  Your bowels are turning to a mush of easily absorbed nutrients as her acids eat their way into you from vent and cleft.  
Ruddertail stops most of her movement as the pain dwindles and fades, even the dull ache of her dislocated shoulder fades altogether and she lays very still, the exposed ribs still moving in a vain attempt to get breath into her melting lungs.  Internal organs start to liquefy and run out through her melting vent, until even her heart weakens to the point where it finally stops, causing a final spike of intense agony to shoot up into her brain, which is still protected in her skull.  Her last thoughts are that she's kicking out with all her strength, even though her muscles and tendons have long since weakened and detached from the bones.  If a few short seconds her consciousness fades completely from the lack of blood t the brain and even unconsciousness only lasts a few moments as her eyes, throat and ears give way one after the other to the acid that dissolves her brain into a mass of nutrients.
> From outside, Strega's belly dissolves away your remaining flesh, your life ending as your organs are invaded and dissolved by acid attacking from within and without.  Your bones and tendons remain, slowly eroding away in the powerful juices, eventually to vanish as well.  Your flesh is soup of nutrients, filling his belly and intestines, to be absorbed into and nourish the predator.  Two otters have truly become one...only your fur remains in his belly, the rest of you merely nutrients flowing though his bloodstream, and waste to be excreted.
> From outside, Strega finally stirs, as the cock's crow somewhere far above his underground apartment.  He wriggles sleepily in the bag, his belly somewhat shrunken but the rest of his abdomen still heavy.  He wufs! happily, stroking his paws over the tight fur.  The happy otter wrinkles up his muzzle in an ottery grin...and then he shakes his head.  His grin turns to a frown, an odd expression indeed for the plump, happy water-weasel.  "What am I doing?"  The hiss is utterly unlike his usual wurfling.
> From outside, Strega blinks, and makes a small gesture with a paw.  He shimmers, and seems to shrink, his color bleeding off in little dots of light as he grows slimmer, more weasel-like.  His fur fades to sable...and his long sheath and little balls are gone, faded away with the rest of the costume.   The weaseloid stretches her mid-legs, cramped so long inside the holo-image costume, and pokes at her heavily swollen belly.   "That silly otter costume is getting out of hand.  Well, at least I got a couple of nice meals out of it."  She rolls heavily out of the beanbag, and waddles towards her bathroom, for her morning shower and relief from certain pressures.

The End