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For Tyde

Fur Wash

They're cheering. Even through the shimmering azure haze of the world around me, I can hear it, see it, feel it in my whiskers. Up I rise, and in an instant the world returns to focus, the colours balance, and there before me stand my team-mates, applauding me. I release the breath of air I've been holding, and show them a smile. In the lane beside me, another otter. We catch eyes - he shrugs, and wades across with his paw outstretched. His grip is strong, his upper body broad and muscular, and I'm still in disbelief. Jacob is our team captain, and the regional all-round swimming champion... and I just won against him! We both climb out of the water, and re-join our team-mates. At once I have four other otters gathered around me, hugging me and slapping my back.

"Wow, way to race, Finn!"

"Yeah, you nailed those turns!"

I smile at them, and thank them. Even Jacob joins in the plaudits.

"You're getting some impressive times these days, Finn. I look forward to racing you in the Championships."

Soon everyone settles down, and Jacob suggests we all go get changed and grab a post-swim drink. There's enthusiasm for this idea, and the five of them start heading off. But I hang back.

"Hey guys, guys, I... I'll catch you out front. Just... wanna do another five lengths to cool down."

They turn around, their smiles fading a little. But they know me, Jacob in particular.

"Okay then, we'll catch you out front. Don't be too long."

"Ha. I never am."

Jacob and the guys head for the changing rooms in a little gang. One of them shoots Jacob a comment: "You'd better watch that Finn. He'll catch your tail if you're not careful." A nice thought, but that's still a long way from happening. I turn to face the water, drop to all fours, and plunge nose-first into the clear-blue depths. And then I'm off. It's all instinct these days: the rush of water over my thick slick fur, every ripple of this pool I feel in my whiskers, each rapid stroke of my webbed paws, the way I twist and knife through the water... it's pure hydrodynamics. Less than thirty seconds later, the far wall is looming up ahead, a few metres away. I flip over in the water, a move I've practised for years, and kick off with my back legs.

One.

The first fifty metres, as effortless for me as a country walk. Though, I don't begrudge other creatures who feel less at home beneath the water. We each have our strengths.

Two.

And yes I know, no-one's ever seen an otter in a swim team before. But hey, it's what an otter's born to do. And if we're good at something, why not embrace it?

Three.

Besides, for me, unlike some lutrines, I'm not content just to splash about. At my first elementary school swimming gala, I won five gold medals, and the Best Swimmer cup which is still on my mum's mantelpiece today. And ever since then, when I found I was faster than most otters my age, it's something I've worked on.

Four.

Because natural advantage is only the first step. That's why I come here, five days a week, to perfect what I'm born with. And I'll keep working on it. Getting faster, and stronger, with every length.

Five. I touch the far wall, and let myself float to the surface. Out in the open once more, I take in some deep breaths, letting myself re-acclimatise, before I kick back and float. All around me, furs are diving and splashing through the water, the sounds echoing in the roof high above. I scent the air, warm and chlorinated, the way it's been throughout my life. Then, I begin a lazy backstroke towards the nearest steps. Hey, that's my workout complete, so you can forgive an otter for wanting to unwind.

Out of the pool, I head for the changing rooms. There are still a few furs about, getting in a final length or two before the advanced swimmers' session ends and the open session starts, or else they're heading to get changed like me. All of my team-mates are gone from sight, but that's okay. They'll be waiting for me by the front desk. And I won't be long.

I take a quick shower, without even taking off my speedos. Yeah, I know, but I've never been one hundred per cent comfortable getting naked around other guys. At least I can change in privacy, though. Opposite the showers is a row of cubicles, each with two doors, one for the pool, one for the exit. I grab the rest of my stuff from the locker - I should've dropped off my textbooks at home first - and head for the cubicles. A couple of the doors have red lights above them, but most have green lights, showing that they're unoccupied. I pick one near the middle and open the door.

"Finn."

I freeze, with the door propped half-open. I recognise that voice. That deep, gravelly bark. What on earth's he doing here? I swallow hard, and I turn around, knowing full well which beast is about to confront me.

And there he is. That biggest, fiercest brute of a hyena I've ever seen.

"Marcel! What... this... fancy seeing you here!"

Solid, scowling, bone-crushing jaw. A bristling spiked mane of bright-red fur, rising high above his head. A mask of dark fur covers his muzzle, while the rest of fur sports that classic spotted pattern that's so typical of his species. He crosses the room - no, stalks across - right to where I'm standing. I watch him the whole way, every step of those massive bare hind paws. He's fully clothed, save for his foot-paws. And he's carrying something - I think I know what it is.

"You forgot your fur-wash again."

And sure enough, in one of the hyena's big clawed paws, is my bottle of otter-formula fur shampoo. Ugh. I thought I'd slipped it into my bag at the locker. He offers me the bottle. I laugh, a little nervous perhaps, and take it from him.

"Thanks."

He nods to say I'm welcome. I cast my gaze down at the floor, at his big digitigrade paws, waiting for him to back away. Except, he doesn't. I look back up and he's standing right over me, scowling, arms folded. Kind of all in my personal space, too.

"Get in there."

Silence.

Seriously? In the booth? With him??

I don't move. I swear I see his mane bristle.

"I'm not fuckin' about, weasel. Get in the booth."

"I... I... I'm not a weasel..."

"I don't care." His voice only raises a fraction, but a deep growl undercuts his words, and a cold wave washes over me. The hyena simply shrugs. "Hey, feel free to take your time. I can wait for you all day. Just remember though: any time, someone you know could walk past..."

He leans down. His maw is broad, sharp-fanged, and looks lethal.

"...and see that fucking big hard-on of yours."

He snaps his teeth. Gulp. I try to whip my towel around me, but I nearly drop everything I'm holding, and so instead I shuffle back, paws pattering on the changing room tiles, clutching my belongings to my chest. He follows me in, shoulders hunched, a were-beast on the prowl. I try to look past him, to see if anyone's spotted us, but when I nearly trip over my own tail, I focus (as best I can) on my retreat. The hyena, Marcel, lets slip a low rumble, and lets the door close behind him. He tells me to drop my belongings and towel. I put them in a corner, and turn to face him in my speedos. With a little snarl, he taps a panel on the wall, marked with a green key symbol - it turns red, and the locks click shut.

Oh my goodness, what am I going to do? I'm locked in a changing booth, at the pools, with a freaking hyena! I can feel my heartbeat, pounding in my chest. These booths aren't small - they're big enough for a couple of regular-sized furs. But Marcel is anything but regular-sized.

"I'll be blunt. I like you, Finn. You're polite, you're athletic, and you're clearly focused on your fitness goals, in the pool and in the gym. That's always something I like to see. Trouble is, there's more at play between us."

His voice drops to a low growl.

"I've seen you eyeing me up at the gym. And no, don't bother denying it. I was fucking guys before your balls dropped, so I know when a guy's staring at me that way, all desperate to see if a big yeen is packing an equally big cock. It does amuse me though, how you act when I'm around. Doing everything you can to avoid looking at me, riflin' through your bag, messing with the free weights, taking another gulp of water... until you think I'm not watching. And then you steal a glance. And you leave it there, lingering, for just a second longer than it needs to."

He scratches his crotch. This time, I try not to look.

"But every time I try and break the ice, you make a run for it."

Then he smiles. But a friendly smile it is not. Not with all of those teeth, and that wide unhinged maw...

"I get it though. You're still the new guy, and the gym's not your patch. So I thought, fair enough, let's meet up somewhere you're comfortable."

I wouldn't say 'comfortable' was the right word. There's very little reassuring about an animal staring you down as he might his next meal.

"You're still a little shy. That's cool though, Finn. You want someone for a long time, then suddenly they're there, right in front of you. Bang!"

He lunges, as if to pounce. I flinch on instinct, and the hyena laughs. Relaxing, he runs claws through his mane, and gives a wide unhinged yawn. Believe me, there is nothing comforting about seeing the back of a hyena's throat. He stays there, looming over me, hungry brown eyes staring me down, those huge wild jaws still within striking distance.

"So what? You think about me at night?"

I pause, but then nod.

"You jerked yourself off thinking about me? Sprayed your load all over your slim little body, just wishing it was me, covering you in warm hyena cum."

His voice drops, to little more than a growling drawl. I don't nod that time. Marcel lets a dark laugh rumble in his throat, and he licks his maw. Even his tongue is huge.

"Yeah., you've done that. Fuck, I bet, when you're all alone in your den late at night, you go onto the gym's website, and scroll through the gallery, just to find pictures of me. And when you find a pic you like, you beat that little otter cock of yours, just imagining what that animal on the screen would do to you, if he were there."

Okay, so maybe I do that. But he doesn't have to know that. It was... a lucky guess. Had to be.

"Well. Here I am. And you know what I'm after. Same thing as you."

Marcel never forces me. The door lock is right beside me. I could press it at any moment, and leave.

But of course I don't press it. He knew I wouldn't press it.

And before I know it, his paw is on my crotch! I nearly squeak, but catch myself just in time. His paw is nimble, and surprisingly dextrous, gripping me and now stroking me through my swimwear, with just the right amount of pressure. I don't know if I'm strong enough to pull his paw away: I don't even try. Nor do I resist when he takes one of my paws, and guides it to his own crotch. I gasp. Not only is he hard, but even through the fabric, I can tell that he's thick. I glance up at him. His smile is warm: he knows what he's doing. His maw is right beside me, his breath warm and moist, filled with the scent of fresh steak. He hooks his thumb-claw around my swimwear waistline, peeling the elasticated clothing over and away from my erection. I spring free with a little gasp, my otter-cock already at full length. My speedos slip to the floor and I step out of them. Then, the big hyena holds me, one paw on my back, the other wrapped lightly around my cock. I pulse in his light paw-grip - I can't help it. And I certainly can't help it when he begins to stroke me, properly this time, with nothing in between his paw-pads and my flesh. We lock eyes - he looks aroused himself, but calm. He runs his thumb over my cock-head, focusing on that area alone, before teasing me between thumb and forefinger. I rise onto my tiptoes and utter a moan, but he stares at me, baring his front two deadly-looking canine teeth. I understand, and I steady my breath - not easy when you're this close to a big and, I daresay, handsome hyena. He keeps stroking, and stroking, until my whole body twitches, and he has to grip my back tighter, growling a little at me, while my cock gives a single heavy throb, and drools a good measure of otter pre onto his paw. He rubs his nose and maw on my neck.

"There... that's fucking nice."

And then he pulls away, a string of precum - my precum - connecting his paw to my cock-tip. Still I'm standing there, paws rooted to my side and tail dropped straight down, watching the huge hyena I'm locked in here with. He growls, and without saying a word, pulls his plain white tank top straight up and off.

Oh my. He's shameless. Even clothed, you could tell he's ridiculously in shape, just by looking at his arms. But now, topless, before me... He shakes his head and his mane, his haunches wide and a rather noticeable bulge forming in his crotch. He grabs himself, idly teasing himself through those camo pants. They're not staying on for long, are they?

"Oh, and feel free to stroke yourself. It's not like I care."

And sure enough, seconds later, I hear the clink of the belt buckle, and Marcel slides his pants down along with his underwear. Now to be fair, I've seen the hyena naked before, around and about the gym. But a fleeting glance of sheath cannot compare to the sight that greets my eyes. I can only stare. Inch by inch, it's revealed to me: a big, black hyena cock, half-hard and dripping with precum.

"Come on then, otter boy. It's all yours."

My heart races, like I'm in a sprint-swim, and I close the gap between us. It's only three or four tiny steps, but each one is slow, heavy. I avoid his eye-contact: I can't bear seeing that smug, predatory gleam any more. Instead I stare at my target: that thick black flesh between the hyena's thighs. Once I'm there, I sigh. I drop to my knees, and slink in closer, nosing at his warm dark-furred pouch, before daring to nuzzle and nose at my first hyena cock. Straightaway I hear him rumble, and I feel him swell. I tease him with my breath, taking in his animal scent, and in no time I've got a hard and ready hyena rubbing against my face. His barbs catch on my whiskers - he's a feliform, so figures he'd be appropriately endowed. And I've sucked cat cock before, so I can deal with barbs. You're fine on the way down, you've just got to be careful on the withdrawal. Then again, Colin was nowhere near this hung...

I'm sure those gleaming eyes are still locked on me. But I avoid the hyena's stare, and open my muzzle. I take hold of his sheath, with two webbed paws, and guide that yeen meat into my maw. His taste and his scent hit me at once: musky and male, but sweeter than I expected for a carrion-eater. Must be all the fruit cups he eats.

I hope nobody saw us slip in here together. And I sure as heck hope nobody hears us. All around me I can hear furs, in the locker rooms, out front... and in the cubicle next door to us. The door opens, someone walks inside, and the door shuts and locks. Oh no no no... What's worse, the doors and walls of the booth don't reach to the floor. So if anyone were to look underneath at the right angle, they'd see two sets of paws, one set considerably larger than the other. And if they happen to notice the angle we're standing at, if we started... No! Don't even think about that.

And part of me really wants to see if the fabled 'otter space' is real. But then the hyena grunts, and he utters a long, deep exhalation of pleasure, upper teeth on full display. I know what's coming, and I shut my eyes, just in time before warmth splatters across my muzzle, hard spurts of thick hyena cum covering my entire face. It reeks of hyena, far richer than the shampoo and the chlorine, and it gets everywhere, all over my fur and face and my upper body, in the air that I breathe and still coming in spurts and shots. I kneel there, swimming in his yeen musk, listening to his remarkably quiet growls as his orgasm subsides, which he follows up with a near silent murr, telling me clearer than words how deep an afterglow must be coursing through the muscle-packed yeen. I lick hyena cum from my whiskers. Oh gods, he tastes amazing. And with a load that size, I'm honestly impressed at how quiet he kept. Fighting not to whimper, I drop a trembling paw to grip my otter-cock. But then he drops a towel on my face - my towel, I can tell by the way it feels. And it's the only thing I've got to clean up with. Bastard.

"Alright kid, save that for your bedroom. You can't keep your friends waiting much longer."

But I really want to paw! And yet, I obey him. Starting with my eyes, and moving onto my face, I wipe away the worst excesses of hyena cum, transferring it directly onto my swim towel, the same one I have to bundle into my bag for the walk home. I think of my team-mates catching that scent, and picking up what happens. Then I think of ducking into that shady part of the park, whipping the towel out, and sniffing it while I paw. I don't know which thought is worse.

And while he's finishing fastening himself up, I sneak a little sniff. I wish we had more time. Maybe that was his plan all along.

"Oh, and.... I'll let you decide whether to wash that towel."

I can still smell him - must be all that yeen musk on my towel. I run a paw across my face, to check I've got it all. He tells me I look fine, and to hurry up and grab my stuff.

We leave the changing rooms together. My team-mates are waiting for me by the front desk.

"About time, Finn. Where have you been? We've been waiting for twenty minutes."

Er... um...

"That would be my fault," the hyena interrupts with a grin. "I spotted Finn in the locker room, we got chatting, and the time just ran away from us, you know? I'm Marcel by the way."

The hyena shakes paws with each of the otters in turn. I stand there, watching him socialise, chatting with them like he's known them for years. I stand there in silence, his coarse hyena-laugh grating on my ears.

"Hey, listen. We're heading to that new milk bar. Apparently they do really nice protein shakes. You wanna come along?"

"Well," grins the hyena, "obviously I've never touched a protein shake in my life..." Hahaha, they all laugh. "But alright then, I'm up for that. What do you say, Finn? Feeling thirsty?"

And off we head, the hyena and his gang of otters. I trudge beside them, not saying a word. Until one of my team-mates gives me a nudge.

"Er, Finn?"

He's staring at me for some reason. But by the time I figure out why, it's too late.

"Is... is that fur-wash in your hair?"

By Ziegenbock