Strength of Signal

Story by Squirrel on SoFurry

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"Meadow the female harvest mouse, just coming into heat, is all by her lonesome in her rural abode with her Wi-Fi annoyingly on the fritz. She's doing her best to control her baser instincts and keep herself occupied. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), a handsome, easygoing internet repair guy arrives unannounced!"


_ _

Meadow stared at the ceiling, bright blue eyes unblinking. They all but fired lasers. The harvest mouse was tense. No, not tense. That's too clinical. She huffed. I'm steamed! There were knots in her back. They throbbed, making her shoulder blades tingle. She yearned for a massage that didn't involve tennis balls and a wall. How long had it been since she'd been on the receiving end of another's touch? Three, four months? Five?

"I hate this couch." Her whiskers twitched. It was old, lumpy, and sagged in the middle. She'd inherited it from her grandparents. True, if she wanted to be comfortable, she could always mope elsewhere. The bathtub, maybe? Or the bedroom. But both locations would only invite sensual explorations. I'm not starting down that path. I'm not going to give in. Also, I'm not moping.

She wanted to deny the fiery maelstrom that swirled inside her. What did I do to deserve such madness? Be born female? If only she could fast-forward to three days from now_. You can't cheat it, Meadow. You know that. There's a cycle to everything, and this is the beginning of yours._

"Guh!" She squeaked and wriggled with frustration, kicking the air and wrestling with a couch-pillow until she was out of breath. Her flailing tail went limp. "I ... hate," she panted, "this! Heat? Hah!" she scoffed, trying to sit fully upright. Blood rushed to her head, not to mention her big, dishy ears. If Hell is real, this is what it feels like. An itch you can't scratch. An urge that's never satisfied. "There's gotta be a better word for it," she muttered, haphazardly groping her supple breasts through her shirt. "Mm-f." She didn't have a bra on. Or pants. Why bother? Just panties and an overlarge sports tee.

Raw, salacious flames are racing up my nerves and lava's rising from my core like in a volcano. Or is that magma? I can never remember. Anyway, it's all going to erupt! I'm going to explode! I'm not in heat. I'm going supernova!

"Will you listen to yourself?" She feverishly slumped back onto the couch cushions and muttered, "Don't be so dramatic." Her eyes momentarily closed. Half the world's population has to go through this. It's not like you're some kind of special case. And it's not like you haven't been through it a few hundred times already, right? What did you expect? Why would this time be worse? Why do you always turn mountains into molehills?

Meadow didn't answer. She couldn't. Not without fully exposing her insecurities. She just blinked and sat up again, staggering to her foot-paws and leaving the couch. Her thin, prehensile tail whipped and wavered waywardly, reflecting her impatience. She didn't know where she was going. She just needed to move, to keep her mind off things. One thing in particular. If you start thinking about it, you'll never stop! You'll lose yourself.

Some individuals reveled in exploring their feral sides. She, on the other paw, stubbornly clung to her civility. She was modest to a fault. You're far twitchier than any mouse has a right to be. You're too culturally conservative. You know you like sex. Hell, you let yourself get seduced into having it every chance you get! Why pretend you're so upstanding? Why can't you let go? Why can't you calm down?

Again, she ignored herself, fearing the truth would cut too deep. She paced to the front door, looking out the window. Then spun, bee-lined through the kitchen, and peered out the backdoor. The view was much the same, that of an unseasonably warm mid-November afternoon. Sunshine. Blue skies. Her yard was so calm and colorful, dotted with heaps of fallen autumn leaves she had no intention of raking. When you lived in the countryside, you didn't have to. The wind would blow them away.

I want to be out there. _This might be the nicest day you'll have for the next five months, and I'm missing it. _

But it wasn't proper decorum to be out in public when you were in heat. It only caused problems. True, she lived three miles outside the nearest town, in the unincorporated countryside. But what if she lost control and started seeking relief in broad daylight? It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. And what if, upon doing that, a neighbor jogged by? Or a cyclist? A jogging cyclist? "You know what I mean," she muttered. She'd had public sex with a panther at her cousin's wedding back in the summer. The memory was so vivid, so palpable. She'd rarely felt so alive. Or so good. But she couldn't help but wonder if that moment of exhibitionism wasn't a pattern? What if, having had a taste, it was becoming a 'thing' with her? A fetish?

What if-

What if you just go to bed and masturbate, Meadow?

"It won't help," she whispered sadly. Pawing was only a stop-gap. It would only fuel the need, make it more intense. Make me hornier. Lonelier. As prey, that was the worst thing in the world. To be so vulnerable and exposed? To know that whatever was hunting you was going to get you no matter what you did? To be at nature's mercy? It was unnerving. Because nature's undefeated. And you're not.

Meadow sighed and skittered about her kitchen. She tried to think positively. At least, being full time, you get paid 'heat leave' from work. And at least you're still young enough to have heats. You could be on your deathbed, instead. At least you're still kicking!

"Yeah. Kicking. By myself," she sighed. Her whiskers drooped. Her repressed arousal was becoming tinged with unrestrained depression. It's my own fault. I'm too neurotic. I'm cute enough to fool around with, but no one wants to wake up with me day after day. I make a better morsel than a meal. Her eyes watered, emotions heightened and whirling. I deserve to be alone.

She thought about the last few males she'd been with, most of them short flings. A canine hybrid. A panther. An okapi. Knots and barbs and hung like a horse. She squirmed. What she wouldn't give to have access to the real thing right now!

"Oh, screw it!" she squeaked in annoyance. Then corrected, "I mean 'screw me'!"

I just can't take it anymore! I'm not strong enough!

I have to paw!

I have to.

Her eyes darted. She went and found her laptop, shakily opening it and blowing out deep, horny breaths. "Come on, come on," she muttered, trying not to squirm as the Wi-Fi connected. She clicked on the internet browser, her head spinning with fantasies, all of them lurid, all of them waiting to be indulged by stories and pictures and videos. There's a world wide web of porn to get entangled in! Well. Not porn. Erotica. She cleared her throat. Or maybe you could even ... you know. Cam for someone? She exhaled, nipples getting hard. That is, if you really are an exhibitionist. She started to grope herself again. "Mm!" She wriggled and waited. And waited. "Hurry up," she complained. The internet was loading slowly. She squinted. "Hmm." Too slowly ...

And then, as if throwing her fantasies back in her face, the laptop gave a metallic 'ding!' and flashed an alert box. Her eyes boggled. "No connection ... to server?" she read. "What the ... ! Mm-f ... f-f ... " Her internet connection was down? Again?! "Aargh!" It had been fritzing for weeks! I called the phone company four days ago about this! Them and their rural monopoly. What am I going to do? I need-

"Erotica," she supplied.

That!

"This sucks!" She rubbed at her golden face, whiskers wildly twitching, before adding, "And not in the way I want it to."

For once, she was in agreement with herself, and she brusquely closed her laptop and returned to the kitchen. Her arms were crossed. "Fuck," she cursed. She didn't care if she overused the word, or any word. I'm in heat. Surely, that gives me some leeway? She gnawed on her lower lip with her prominent buckteeth. Calm down, calm down. Eat something. Something sweet. You like sweets. She nodded absently. Yes, she did. But I'd rather be eaten. I'd rather someone have someone's muzzle-

Cookies. She could have cookies. "Have some cookies." A day was never made worse by a cookie._She stood on her tiptoes and opened her cupboards, peering about and becoming exponentially frazzled. "No way." _I'm out of golden Oreos?! Her ears turned red as her blood pressure skyrocketed. Could this day get any worse?

She slammed the cupboards shut, the force of it stinging her paw for a second, which made her spin around apoplectically. "Ouch!" After a few seconds of hopping, she crossed her arms and tried to think.This is why you need to keep a grocery list instead of going by memory. You always forget to buy the things you want most. "I don't need any cookies, anyway. I have a figure to maintain," she reasoned aloud. Her voice was starting to tremble, though. The cookies were only a wanted distraction. She was beginning to lose control. I can feel it. It's getting worse, like a growing storm. It was only a matter of time before she was relentlessly pleasuring herself. "Watch some ... TV. Yeah. Yeah, let's, uh ... a comedy. Laughter is the best medicine, right? Isn't that what they say?" Whoever 'they' is. Probably male. All tall and broad and-

Running a paw through her butterscotch head-fur, getting hotter with each passing minute, she went into the living room and grabbed a disc and flopped back on her couch, fumbling for the remote. It was shaped like a phallus. Her pupils dilated. Oh, goodness. Why hadn't she noticed that before? Her eyes darted left to right. Then downward. Hmm. She wondered, briefly, for a split second, what would happen if she put it-

Meadow!

Are you out of your mind?

Don't even.

"I wasn't. God." She shook her head, blinking repeatedly. "I'm calm. I'm calm ... " She pressed play. She'd chosen one of her favorites, an old British sitcom about a department store staff. She hummed along with the theme. "Ground floor, perfumery, stationary, leather goods, wigs and haberdashery, kitchenware and food, going up!" Her whiskers twitched. "Mm, mm, mm ... "

See? This is helping!

Then the jokes started. She groaned. Or was it a moan?You realize this is the most double-entendre laden show ever? You chose this on purpose, didn't you?

Before her subconscious could answer, there was a knock at the door.

Meadow's heart skipped a beat.

She snapped to attention, eyes getting comically wide as she fumbled with and dropped the remote, then picked it up again. She pointed it at the door and pressed all the buttons. Then at the TV, successfully turning off the television and scurrying in a panicky zigzag out of the living room entirely, almost tumbling head over tail in the process. Then, panting heavily, she carefully peeked her head around the corner.

Knock-knock-knock!

Oh, no! Someone's here? She gulped. But who?! I'm not expecting anyone ...

Knock-knock-knock!

"Hello? Anybody home? Telephone company," announced a muffled, masculine voice. "You called about a bad DSL connection?"

Meadow craned her neck and clenched her paws. "Ugh. Are you serious?" Worst. Timing. Ever. _They couldn't show up the day after I called them? They have to show up now? And they have to send a male technician? What am I going to do?! _

"Hello?" he said again, pressing his whiskery nose against the door's window-pane as he tried to peer inside the house, chocolate-brown eyes wide and wondering. His breath fogged up the glass.

Meadow scurried to her bedroom. She had to answer the door. She couldn't pretend she wasn't here. Her car was in the yard, for one. And, two, if she turned him away, who was to say it might not be another week before her internet got repaired? _I need internet access. I need free-flowing porn ... er, erotica. Also, pants. I need pants._She wriggled into a pair of shorts. There was no time for a bra, but her shirt was so loose maybe he wouldn't notice.

Knock-knock-knock!

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" she squeaked, instantly regretting saying that. Lewd images began tumble through the golden mouse's head. Her paws became sweaty, her breath unsteady. Mostly dressed, she managed to collect herself before heading back to the living room. She went to the front door and stood on her tip-toes, peeking out the window. "Um, hello?"

"Miss?"

"Meadow," she replied.

"Yes, Miss Meadow?" The male glanced at a clipboard, then back at her. "I'm here to fix your internet. You were having problems?"

"Sorta," she mumbled, distractedly. He was an otter. Not many of them lived in Central Indiana. They tended to be further north. There's a town seventy miles northwest called Otterbein, isn't there? Yeah. I drove through there once. That was so long ago. This one was all lithe and lutrine-y. Is that a word? Well, it is now. Lithe, lubed lutrine, lovingly licking-

"Well, it says here ... " The male glanced down at his papers again, reading off a lot of technical stuff.

"Um ... sure? Yeah. I guess." The harvest mouse shifted her weight from hip to hip. "So, you can fix it?" She was eager for this encounter to be over as quickly as possible. Before something indiscreet happened.

"Yup. Should be able to. Probably just a faulty wire somewhere. If you just let me in, I'll-"

"No!" the mouse suddenly squeaked, wildly throwing her body against the door. She locked it and swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I mean, yes! Yes, I mind. No, you can't."

"Um, excuse me?" The otter's brow furrowed in confusion. His paw turned the doorknob. "Wait. Did you just lock me out?"

Her heart started pounding. "I thought the internet box thing-y was on the outside of the house? Why do you need to come in?"

"Well," he drawled, "the problem might not be your box. It might be your modem. Just want to cover my bases."

If he comes in, he'll sniff my scent, and then he'll end up covering my base! I won't have the willpower to stop him. _Not that she was against casual encounters. She'd having them more and more, lately. But was that really the type of fur she wanted to be? _You used to be a romantic. You used to want to be in love. What happened to that? Now you'll just lift your tail for whatever male growls into your ear? What if he already has a mate? And kids? You don't know anything about him! "I'm sure the problem's isolated to the outside."

"Yes, but-"

"Nothing needs to be fixed in here!" Except my loins. They're aching. I want to be filled, drilled, ravaged, and rubbed. I want to be-

The male sighed, rubbing his neck with webbed paws. As a gregarious sort, he wasn't prone to arguing. With his route being a rural one, he had all sorts of quirky, fringe-like customers, so he was used to it. He shrugged and decided to humor her. This was his last stop for the day. He had nowhere to be afterward. There was no rush. Besides, maybe she'd keep him here long enough to get on overtime! "Alright. What side of the house did you say it was on?"

"Right."

He grabbed his repair kit and began to move off.

"No, wait, my right, not your ... "

The otter changed directions, giving her a look.

"Yes, that way." She pointed.

He made a face and trudged around the corner of the house, dead leaves crunching under his foot-paw steps while his thick and sturdy rudder-tail bounced up and down. The bold, slanting light of autumn hit his body in such a way as to make his waterproof pelt glow. His shadow was incredibly bold.

Meadow followed him, scurrying from window to window. Her house wasn't that big, so the otter reached his destination in no time.

"This your box, I presume?" the otter asked, standing in front of the west side of the house. He knew what it was but thought it would be polite to ask.

"Yes, uh ... yes." She squinted, trying to read his nametag through a dusty windowpane. It hadn't rained in weeks.

"Denali," he supplied, noticing her attempt.

"Really?" Small world! She smiled widely. _"_I went there!"

"Huh?"

"Alaska! Saw the mountain." And had sex in its shadow. But let's not mention that.

He shook his head, still not understanding. Geography wasn't his strong suit.

"Denali? The tallest mountain North America? Used to be called Mt. McKinley, but they recently changed the name. It means-"

"Never heard of it." He shrugged.

She frowned. Way to ruin my story! "How'd you get the name then?"

"What?" His small, roundish ears perked. "You'll have to speak up. I can't hear you through the-"

"How'd you get your name?" Meadow repeated more loudly, enunciating her syllables.

"My parents gave it to me," he said with a bit of a smirk.

She tried not to roll her eyes. Har, har. "I figured, but-"

"I don't know why they named me Denali. They just did. I think it was my great-grandfather's name? But he passed away before I was born."

"Sorry to hear that," she said.

"I didn't know him, so ... " He crouched down and took a screwdriver out of his toolkit.

"It just seemed the right thing to say," she mumbled. She watched him through the window, the way he used his screwdriver so expertly. She gulped. He knows how to screw. Even through his uniform, he looked fit, so sleek and slinky, like he could wrap himself all around her. Otters had a reputation for being playful and kinky, right? I wonder what he'd do to me if he got the chance? I bet he'd have me all over. We'd be against walls and on the floor and-

"You okay, miss?" Denali asked, his voice still muffled by the window that separated them. "You look a bit feverish."

"It's Meadow."

"Yeah, you already told me that."

"Just, uh, reminding you."

He nodded and smirked again, prying the cover off the phone box. He set it on the ground. "Cute name, by the way. Suits you."

She shyly tugged at her drawn curtains, pretending not to be flattered. "Thanks. And I'm fine. Really! I just have, uh, dusty panes. Probably causing a reaction, standing here and breathing in all that dust. Allergies. Am I right?" Oh, real convincing, Meadow. He knows you're lying! It's so obvious. Say something else. "Actually, I think I might be coming down with a bit of a fever. You're right." She play-coughed into a paw.

"I thought coughs came with colds, not fevers," he observed.

"It's a cold-fever combo?" She swallowed nervously. "Double whammy."

"Yeah?"

"Also, allergies." She paused, and sheepishly added, "I guess that would make it a triple-whammy."

"You're one malady away from a grand slam," the otter teased. He had no illusions that she was sick. He suspected she was just super shy or introverted. Maybe even a shut-in? She was a mouse. Their anxious natures weren't exactly a secret. "Um, look, I'll fix your box. Shouldn't take long. Something probably just came loose or short-circuited. Our records say it's been four years since it was last checked, so-"

"Okay."

"There's a lot of lady-beetles in this thing, but I have a hard time believing they would've caused the issue." The otter brushed the bugs away.

"No, they're just annoying," Meadow confirmed. The horribly invasive insects always swarmed in late-autumn, trying to get indoors before winter.

"Mm-hmm," the distracted otter went, checking connections. "Yeah, think you've got a faulty wire."

"Oh?" Meadow fiddled with her own tail. It was so awkward having a conversation through a wall and window. But, then, I'm an awkward conversationalist to begin with.

"Easily replaced." He cut it free of the box and fished around for a new one from his kit. _ _

Meadow nodded nervously. He seems nice. Well-adjusted. Fun-loving. Unlike you. She felt compelled to say something. Anything. She felt a strange compulsion to impress and attract him. Maybe it was her heat talking. Or maybe it's something else. "Have you stopped at a lot of houses already? Bet you're looking forward to getting off the cock." A few seconds passed. She blinked. Wait, what'd I just say?! "Clock! Off the clock!"

"Huh?" The otter squinted, wondering if he'd heard that right. He raised his head and quirked a dark brow.

"Just, you know, it's a hot day. Worried you might be hot. I mean ... not that you're not, cause you are. Hot, like, uh ... " She swallowed. Oh, boy. "For November, though, it's, uh, it's ... it's not that cold," she rambled incoherently. Shut up, Meadow. For the love of God. "About time for you to go home?" She exhaled deeply. Is this almost over? Please?

"Almost," Denalil slowly confirmed. He'd never met anyone so shy! Was that healthy? Was he really that intimidating? He didn't know whether to be concerned or amused. "I've been up since 7 AM." He reached for the phone box cover and put it back on, screwing the corners shut. "I don't know who installed this unit, but there was also an extra part in here. It probably contributed to the problem. I removed it."

"Thanks."

He nodded and started to explain in greater detail.

She cut him off with, "I'm tech-illiterate. I just use it. I don't know how it works."

"Well, I guess if you did, I'd be out of a job," he joked, standing up and making eye contact through the window. He pointed a webbed paw to the modem in her living room. "Miss Meadow, I have to come inside to make sure your modem's responding to the new wiring. I can't tell my bosses I made the trip out here and didn't get you up and running."

Get me up and running? He has no idea how euphemistic that is.

"I promise I won't touch anything." He held up his paws in anticipation of her objections. "I won't scuff the walls or dirty the floor."

"It's not that," she muttered.

Denali cocked his head. "Then what is it? Your cold-fever-allergy triple-whammy? I just got over a cold last week. Hopefully, I'll be fairly immune."

She couldn't bring herself to admit the truth. If he knows I'm in heat, he might start acting weird. She tried not to roll her eyes at the irony. Weird? Almost as weird as you're acting now?_She twitched. _But I can't just tell him I'm in heat and then let him into the house! If he knows, he'll be thinking about it.

"I would never hurt you or anyone," he promised. "I know mice-"

"It's-"

"Mouses, right. Right." He sighed. "Whatever. Look, I know you're shy and stuff, but really-"

"I'm not scared of you," she insisted. She hated that he was getting the wrong impression of her. Okay, maybe she was shy. Maybe she was neurotic. Try basket-case. But not as much as she currently appeared to be! I have some normal qualities to me. I have some desirable attributes. Don't I?

The otter shrugged. "Then let me in. Do you want your internet working or not? You're paying for this visit either way. Might as well get your money's worth."

Truer words. But she had to throw him off her scent, somehow! She held up a golden paw. "Just, uh ... okay. Hold on a second. I'll meet you at the front door." She scurried off to grab some air freshener and went from room to room on a spraying spree, hoping to make the air smell like strawberry fig instead of estrus mouse. She also turned on the central air so the masking agent would circulate better.

Meadow then steeled herself and unlocked the front door, pulling it open with a big, bucktoothed smile on her face. She hoped he didn't notice how ragged her breathing was. "Hi."

Denali nodded, a sparkle in his eye. "Long time, no see."

"Funny. Um ... yeah," she went, clearing her throat. She gestured to the other side of the room. "Modem's over there. You don't need to take that long. I'm sure you've already fixed the problem, what with you being an expert and all."

"No need to flatter me, Miss Meadow," the rudder-tailed technician said as he entered her house. "I'll soon be out of your fur."

The harvest mouse sighed as she shut the door behind him. Out of my fur? How about in my fur. That sounds nice. And what about in my-

"You have a computer handy? A laptop or a smartphone? We need to check if it's actually working. I can tell in theory," he said, fiddling with the cables and tapping at the plastic modem cover. Three green lights. All stable. "But it's better in practice."

Oh, god, oh, god, oh god. Meadow almost melted.

"Miss Meadow?"

"Mm?" Her eyes had a hazy look to them.

"Just need a Wi-Fi capable device to-"

"Oh. Have one over, uh, here. And you don't have to call me miss. That's so ... " She searched for the right word as she simultaneously retrieved her laptop. "Formal."

"Well, we just met," the otter reminded.

"Also makes me feel old."

"To be called Miss?" Denali echoed. "I wouldn't feel old if you called me Mister."

"Well, it's different for males. There are double standards," she argued. But there was no need to get into that right now. She gave Denali her laptop, and he logged onto her web browser. After a moment, she nodded. "It's working?"

"Yup. It's up!"

A shiver raced up the harvest mouse's spine, words flashing in her brain. _Up. Erect. Stiff. _

Denali put her computer down and placed a paw on her shoulder. "You sure you're okay? I mean, I know what you told me, but I get the impression something's wrong."

"With me? No. No, uh ... " She shook her big-eared head. Her lobes were blushing. There was no way he didn't notice. "Nope."

"Really, Miss ... er, Meadow." He growled with frustration. "I'm not stupid. You're treating me like a criminal!" He scrunched his blunt, brown muzzle with annoyance. "It's making me feel like I've done something wrong."

"You haven't," she assured. "It's ... look, I'm sorry if I-"

"Then what-" He dropped off sharply. "Wait." His nose began sniffing the air. "What's that?"

"Hmm?" she went, feigning innocence. She began to nudge him toward the front door.

"That scent," he continued, clumsily moving along.

"I'm sure I don't know what-"

"It's-"

"Strawberry fig?"

"You." He stopped moving.

"Me?" the mouse squeaked, trying to continue shoving him toward the exit. It was no use. He was bigger and stronger.

His nose tilted toward her to double-check. And, in the process, he did a double-take. "Whoa. Yeah, definitely you." His pupils began to dilate. He licked his lips, a surge of excitement running through him. "I may be an otter, but I'm not wet behind the ears. You're in heat!" he declared obviously.

The golden harvest mouse sighed. She didn't deny it. She couldn't. Her whiskers twitched. "Thanks for fixing my, uh ... my thing, Denali. My internet, I mean, not my-" She paused to collect herself. He knows! And you know he knows! And he knows you know he knows! "You can, uh-"

"What are you scared of? Are you not into males?" He crossed his arms and quirked a brow. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he insisted amiably.

"I am! I am," she swore. I'm into males. I'm also into having them in me!

"Yeah?" The otter chuckled, her pheromones affecting him in ways he wasn't even aware of. Suddenly, the mouse was irresistible. He wouldn't say she was 'hot,' but she was definitely cute. Her fur was so rich and golden, so warm. He wanted to run his fingers through it. And her nervous demeanor only served to make her more endearing, like she was playing 'hard to get,' as if her coyness was a tacit invite to pursue. It was a game. Nature's game. And they were the pawns. "I don't really_need to leave, do I? Surely, I'm carrying _something useful." He took a deep breath. That 'something' was crowning at the entrance to his sheath, threatening to leave it behind entirely. "You're alone in here, right?"

"Well, I was," she squeaked weakly.

The otter tossed his repair-kit onto the mouse's couch. He loomed over her, nearly a foot taller. "I'm trying to ask if you're-"

"Single," she confirmed quickly.

His rudder-tail thumped on the floor approvingly. "You didn't think I could control myself, did you? You thought I'd come in here and just ravage you without permission like some feral beast once I knew of your 'condition'?"

"Maybe." Meadow's breasts began to heave. "You still might."

He laughed heartily. "You should have more faith in others." He reached for one of her ears. It was flushed. He traced the rim with a claw-tip. "And in otters," he added cheekily. "That being said, I'd be happy to confirm your suspicions. With your permission, of course? I think, deep down, that's what you really want, isn't it?" The laid-back otter wasn't normally this direct. But his brain was practically buzzing, sending erotic signals to all his extremities. Her scent was out of this world.

Meadow stared at him, dumbly. Say something. Say something. Say-

"Hmm?" he prodded, sensing the words on the tip of her tongue.

"You're kinda ... well, handsome," she breathed.

"You think?"

"Really." Really, really ...

"Aw, thanks." The otter chuckled, blushing beneath his fur. "You're ... savory, I guess? Or spicy? What's the word I'm looking for?" he mused, advancing upon her, backing her into-

The wall. Meadow bumped into it with a start. She looked left, then right, and then straight at the otter. "Sweet?"

"Oh?" Denali smirked.

"I think so," she insisted.

"Would you really call what we're about to do 'sweet'?" he cooed.

"What are we about to do?" she breathed, as if she didn't know.

"Put out your fire," was his husky response. "Or maybe pour gasoline on it. Either way, there'll be plenty of heat."

Heat. Heat. _ Suddenly, her earlier complaint about the inaccuracy of the word felt silly. There was no better term for how she felt right now, for how she wanted to feel. _Hot, hotter, hottest. "I guess it's true what they say, then."

He tilted his head. "What's that?"

"Everything's hotter with an otter."

Chuckling, Denali whispered into one of her ears. "You're a flirt, you know that? You should drop that innocent act of yours." He began to feel at her body with his paws. Roughly, with randy intentions.

_ _"It's not an act."

"I think it is. I think you hide behind it."

Meadow wasn't sure what to say. She tried to change the subject. "We, uh ... are you? Should we?" She glanced at his paws. No rings. But that didn't mean he didn't have-

"Don't worry about me. I'm solo and safe," he murred. It was the most otter-y sound imaginable. He stuck his nose between her ears, pushing it through her golden head-fur. He breathed deeply. "Don't worry about anything. You need help? I'll provide it."

"Why?"

"Why not?" he countered with an easy shrug. "I'm a repairman. That's what I do. Fix things. And you need fixing." He groped her ropy-tailed ass. "Okay?"

"Uh-huh." She trembled, her floodwalls coming down. There was no need to hold back any longer. Their cards were on the table. She was panting desperately. Desire! There was only desire. No room for anything else. She opened and closed her mouth, repeatedly. I want him. I want him so bad. Not just him, though. Not just the pleasure, but the connection. The communion. I want to be a part of something bigger.

Denali tilted down and initiated a kiss that felt like an eternity in coming.

She rose up on the tips of her bare foot-paws and hungrily mouthed on his rounded muzzle. Then kissed him, then suckled on his lower lip. He fought back, his muzzle overtaking hers. The smacking filled her ears. Their noses bumped and whiskers tangled. There was no rhyme or reason. Only hunger. The intimacy was instantly invigorating. She forgot why she'd been resisting this.

He allowed a giddy smile before working his tongue into her mouth, arms wrapping around her smaller, twitchier body firmly and possessively, letting her know it was alright. This was alright. Everything was alright. His paws then dipped and kneaded at her rump as they pressed together, swayed in place, and continued trading hot, hungry kisses. He'd never kissed a mouse before. She tasted rather nice. It triggered his appetite, and he moved a single paw between their bodies.

The kisses tapered off. They needed to breathe, after all! Meadow, heaving for air, lowered to her foot-pads and nuzzled Denali's chest bewilderedly. She'd known him less than half an hour, but it felt so much more comfortable than that. Was she simply seeing things through a romantic, wishful haze? Or did they really have a genuine chemistry? How could one even tell? Did it matter? Her dishy ears swiveled at the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

"They're getting a bit restrictive," he explained casually, of his jeans. "Besides, I don't think I'll be needing them." He paused and whispered into one of her fleshy, erogenous lobes, "Will I?"

"No," she squeaked, breasts swelling tenderly.

"You look like you're gonna pass out," he observed lightly. "Am I flustering you too much?"

"No. I'm just-"

"Horny?" he suggested.

"Is this happening?"

Denali smiled again. "Let's hope so." Though they were mere feet from the couch, the otter continued, "Mind showing me to the bedroom? I'm feeling a bit dizzy, myself. We should probably lay down." His voice was laced with that trademark otter playfulness. He'd taken to this situation like, well, an otter to water. So smoothly. Meadow felt insanely jealous of his ability to adapt on the fly. She wanted to be like that. Maybe if they started grinding against each other, he'd rub off on her? Yes. More grinding. For science.

"Are you really sure you want ... I mean, I know you want this," the harvest mouse panted, "but do you want me?" Even while being thrilled he'd taken a liking to her, she knew it was artificial. It's all pheromones and instincts. Right? If she wasn't in heat and they weren't under its influence, he'd probably walk past her on a city street.

"Mousey, you're affecting me like a million bucks, but I don't get horizontal with furs I don't like. I do have standards." He began to take off his shirt. "Now, left or right?"

"Huh?" She drank in his body. He was like a glass of cool water. Or maybe hot tea? She could detect the musculature beneath his thick, muddy-colored pelt. Such rich, soft fur. Oh, she wanted to be pressed against him while he-

"Bedroom?"

"Oh, um ... uh ... "

Denali didn't wait for her to finish. She thought she was horny? He was twice that. He had no patience left for dawdling. Half-naked, he pulled her across the living room.

"Eek!"

They reached an opening which lead into a short, wooden-floored corridor. To the left was the kitchen and porch. The otter paused. The study and the bedroom were on the-

"Right," she finally confirmed. "Bedroom's on the-"

"Right?"

"Right." _ _

The next thing Meadow knew, they were there. Her bedroom. Her bed. Events happened in flashes, in fiery fragments. She was flat on her back. Momentarily, at least. Soon, she was outright wriggling and arching atop strewn sheets, sinking down into her cushy mattress as the otter kicked his pants off. Or were they already off? His boxer-briefs were bulging. The threat of what was on the other side of that blue cotton made her wet. Wetter, actually. She'd been jungle-moist all day. He could probably smell that, too. _ _

The golden mouse lifted her arms, twisting her head as her shirt was pulled up and over with the otter's help, his workmanlike paws so steady and sturdy. His eyes lit up as he realized she'd been bra-less this whole time. Her pants and panties were yanked down with primal quickness. Finally, they were both fully naked save for their pelts. And their fur couldn't hide the excitement of their genitals. His erection. Her puffy folds. Nothing could stand between them now.

He straddled her body and squeezed her breasts, those supple mounds, those feminine mountains of fertility. "Ooh, I know female ... mouses," he managed, "have a reputation for ... " He nodded at her supple breasts. Big breasts. Breasts! "For their body size, anyway. Always thought it was an exaggeration." His thumbs wagged over her hardened nipples. "Glad to be proven wrong."

Meadow moaned unapologetically.

Denali wanted to suckle on a tit. But that could wait 'til later. For now, he eased up, shifting his hips. He tilted forward, one webbed paw holding to the bed's headboard while the other took a few strokes of his otter-cock.

The mouse watched from up close, utterly captivated. Her mouth hung open.

"You like that? Mm, you want it?"

"Y-yes ... " She could barely say the word. But, oh, god, yes!

He gently slapped her cheeks with the very tip of his erection. First the left. Pat-pat. "Louder. I can't hear you. Who wants my cock?" Then he slapped her other cheek.

Panting, the mouse tried to follow his member with her mouth. Her neck twisted about. "Me ... "

"Louder! Like you mean it."

"Me!" she insisted.

He must've been convinced, because he replied, "Go ahead, then." Releasing his cock, he let it dangle in front of her face. It pulsed and twitched with blood, as rigid as it could possibly be. Pre dribbled off the smooth, blunt head. It was slightly above average. Must've been six, seven inches? That's more than slightly, Meadow. It was thick and hard and perfect. And throbbing. Or was that the same as pulsing? Regardless, it was everything she wanted and needed. It was the answer to her prayers. "Don't just admire it."

"But I ... I want ... " No, not want. "I need-"

"And you'll get it, Goldy. Just need few suckles to get me started."

Goldy. No one had ever called her that. It pushed her submissive buttons. She blushed severely, though at this point it was hard to tell. She lifted her head off the bed and planted her lips on the dribbling tip, nuzzling it, kissing it. Licking it. And-

"That's it. Suck," he ordered, broad chest heaving. His rudder-tail was slapping on the sheets with unrestrained excitement.

Meadow, muzzle more than full, was doing as told. She quickly settled into a smooth, wet bobbing motion. Up and down, up and slowly, so slowly down and suckling back up and twisting side to side. Her pussy ached, her whole body consumed with fiery, feral urges. She was an animal now! She always had been. Always would be. It was only now that she was owning up to it. Breed or be bred. There was nothing else.

"Ah-h, gah ... get it n-nice and, ah, wet." He tossed his head back, huffing for air. "S'nice. Oh," he moaned. "Oh!" His eyes rolled back. A fleeting wince. "Slow down. Watch those buckteeth ... "

She squeaked apologetically, having gotten carried away.

"Think that's ... enough ... " Chittering, Denali arched his spine and pulled back. Or tried to. He had to pry her off. "Heh. Down, girl. Don't want to gorge on the appetizer when we've, uh ... yeah." Something about a main course. Pussy. He wanted pussy. Losing track of his words, he simply ordered, "Spread those pretty legs."

They fell apart immediately, lifting slightly into the air.

Denali couldn't resist a long, approving glance. She'd gotten a close-up view of his pride. Only fair he got to study her equivalent. "Mm-h. Nice." She was in heat alright. Her vulva was puffy and deep-pink, wetness trickling out. "Looks like a flower. I bet those petals are soft." He trembled with barely-contained lust, a clawed finger tracing her loins, skirting her clitoris and flicking it teasingly. He then curled it inside her vagina, fishing around for a moment. "Mm, softer on the inside." He shook his head, whiskers tingling. "And pretty snug, too."

She opened her muzzle but no words emerged.

"Closer inspection's warranted," he insisted, withdrawing his paw and angling his smooth, proud erection perpendicular her pussy, easing it forward and wedging between her labia. He then slid his entire length inside her needy sex with one smooth thrust. It ended at a hilt. There was no hesitation, no ceremony. Just a delighted grunt.

"Ah!" Meadow's breath left her. She felt on edge, felt electric, as if he'd just plugged into her outlet and released a torrent of power. Sexual power, as raw and ancient as could be! So much better than she'd anticipated, so much better than her memories promised. And it got stronger and better the more he moved. And, oh, he was already moving. Back and forth, in and out. Quickly. The mouse felt so hot, so unbelievably hot. She might as well be giving off light. Indeed, she imagined that the two of them were glowing. And who was to say they weren't?

The otter's face scrunched into a lascivious expression as their hips met, his sac lightly slapping at her vulva. "Huh! That's ... ah, ah-h!" More slaps, their hips at a constant grind. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout," he murred, his penis tingling with such sinful delight. She was practically sizzling inside, so slick, so steamy. His girth squished into her passage with unfettered ease. There was no work to this. Only play.

Meadow, dumb with desire, wished she could be a more active participant. She wished she could add something to their frenzied dance. Instead, she just laid there and took it, letting him do all the work. And why not? She wrapped her entire body around his, arms and legs. Even her tail. The prehensile appendage snaked around his rudder like a lifeline, symbolically tying them together. As if they weren't already as close as two creatures could possibly be. Her clitoris buzzed like it had never buzzed before. She reached down to rub at it, bucking up at the otter reflexively.

Denali adored how the smaller fur writhed and moaned. He loved when his partners got into it. Her body language was begging for him, her womb surely opening up for him and waiting. Waiting. Their species weren't compatible enough to reproduce, but it didn't matter. The deed must still be done. She needed his seed, and he needed to provide it. Such mutual, entwining need. How they both craved relief! Under normal circumstances, he'd take his time and try a few different things with her. He'd throw in a bit of romance. But, right now, he just humped her like crazy. He wanted to cum! He was-

"Oh-h, OH ... ohhhh ... " Meadow beat him to it. Her walls, which had been rippling and squeezing around him, suddenly intensified their actions. Her loins were wracked with spasms. Her clitoris sang. She wanted to cry out, to squeal, but the sound got caught in her throat. Pleasure, everything was pleasure. It was like the rains had come. The sky opened up for her, and down came ecstasy to tame the flames. Her reward was as relieving as it was sweet. And, goodness, was it sweet! She felt herself squirt, clutching to him as her eyes rolled back and tail wildly whipped.

"Oh, f-fuh ... fuck!" he whined, muscles tensing. His humps became sloppy and erratic, not to mention wetter than ever, until he buried his dick deep in the mouse's smooth, tight vagina. "Ah! AH-h ... " His cock jerked violently. Once, twice. A few more times. More moaning as he painted her depths. A few heavy breaths. And, just like that, it was over for him. "Ah," he sighed lazily, licking his lips. He felt numb with residual pleasure. "Aw, yeah ... "

Meadow, eyes closed and fur matted with sweat, just hugged on the naked otter. She didn't want to move. She couldn't, really. She felt like she'd just survived a fever dream. Outside, the sun was beginning to set. The lingering clouds in the sky absorbed the colors of the sky, tinging the remaining light with pink and orange. It wasn't even five-o'clock. Dark so early. Makes the days feel shorter and the nights longer. Nights were so much lonelier than days. But maybe I won't have to be alone tonight?

"You okay?" he eventually cooed.

She nodded weakly.

"You sure?" he prodded.

"For now," she finally managed. The fire had abated. The thirst had been quenched. It was like her heat was gone! She felt normal again. But she didn't celebrate. She knew it was a false calm, like the eye of a hurricane. It would be back. With a vengeance. And soon. "I, uh ... I don't suppose I can get you to stay in my bed for the next two days?" Her voice shook. Even though they'd just participated in the universe's most intimate act together, she still felt shy. She was still afraid of rejection. I'm just a simple, boring mouse.

"As luck would have it, I don't work weekends. And tomorrow is Saturday," Denali announced with a grin.

"But if you have plans, you-"

"Nothing important."

"Still. I mean, you don't ... you don't have to stay. You shouldn't feel obligated just because we, uh-"

"Spit it out, Goldy."

"You don't owe me anything. We don't really know each other," she said sheepishly. She avoided eye contact.

"I just screwed you silly, mousey. I think I know you well enough after that to feel comfortable doing it again. It didn't feel half-bad." He winked. "I admit your pheromones are strong, but I'm not drunk. I know what I'm doing." He began to nibble on her neck. "And so do you. Stop feeling guilty," he scolded.

"It's hard not to, sometimes," she confessed, not elaborating.

"It's a learned response. That means you can unlearn it." Denali eased back seriously, resting his forehead against hers. With a soft 'slick' sound, the shrinking otter pulled out of her. He noticed a look of embarrassment on the mouse's face. "Maybe we should shower?"

"I think so," she agreed.

"How long do we have before the need seizes you again?"

"A few hours."

"What do you wanna do until then?"

"After we shower, I should probably eat something. Or we should, I mean. I'm not a good cook, but I'm sure I can whip up something for two." She wriggled, wanting to sit up. Denali rolled off her and she did so, her breasts hanging loosely in the increasingly dim light. The bed creaked beneath their mutual weight. "Do you need to run home, get extra clothes or ... " She shrugged. "You know?"

"I probably should," he admitted. "I only live twenty minutes away. Drop off my work vehicle and swap it for my personal one, take care of a few things. I'll be back before you need me. I could even pick up some food on the way."

She gave another shy nod. "Sounds, uh ... that'd be good, I guess."

He sat up with her and moved a paw beneath her chin, lifting it and looking into her eyes. "Hey."

"What?"

"Just checking your strength of signal," he advised. "It's pretty strong."

She couldn't help but smile and reply, "Well, with the tools you have at your disposal, I should think so."

"Don't you mean 'tool'?" he murred.

"Maybe." Meadow giggled bashfully, getting out of bed and making for the hallway and the bathroom. She wanted that shower. But even without it, she already felt clean inside, as if a burden had suddenly been lifted. There was a melody in her heart. I don't deserve this. To have him? To have these feelings? I didn't earn it. And yet ... there was something about the random act of fate that had thrust them together that made this all the better, all the more precious. She was going to savor this weekend. You'd be a fool not to.

"I guarantee my work," Denali continued playfully as he padded after her, his rudder-tail swaying. He stopped in the bathroom doorway, watching as the mouse turned the water on. "But, fair warning: regular maintenance is required."

With a breath steamy enough to put the hot water to shame, Meadow turned to her partner and said, "Lucky me."