The mirror begins to haze around its edges as the steam from the shower slowly fills the room.  I stand there, naked, and as always, give my body a few once-overs.  

	I'm not a bad looking otter.  Could be a bit bigger, but otter genetics dictates I can't gain muscle mass very easily.  I flex in the mirror, short, thick brown fur outlining the subtle curvature of my biceps, my pectorals, and my abdominal muscles.  I'm thin (five foot eight, weighing in at a buck fifty) but at least I look like I work out, which I do.  My training program is doing wonders for me!  I'm certainly not the stick figure I was a year ago.  Now I've got something to be proud of: thirteen inch arms, a chest that sticks out (kinda-sorta) further than my flat tummy, and twenty inch thick thighs.  I can almost squat 225 pounds!

	I step into the shower stall and adjust the temperature of the water to a maximally comfortable warmth.  As I close my eyes and stand under the showerhead, I plunge my face into the stream and the fur on my broad face glistens as the water seeps in; little droplets form on the ends of my long whiskers and fall off in staccato patterns.  I let my paws wander over my lean body, feeling the smooth, silky fur against the webbing between my fingers.  I know it's natural for an otter to enjoy the water, but sometimes I feel it's almost obscene how much I love it.  I could spend all day under the gentle massage of the showerhead, letting rivulets of water cascade off my head and drowning out all thought with its splashing.  

	I reach for the soap.  It's a new kind I found at the hippy nutrition store where I get most of my supplements, among the other brands specially formulated for otter fur.  I bought it because I liked the shape of the bottle and it smells like vanilla.

	With a squeeze, a tendril of slightly iridescent eggshell-colored ooze issues from the upturned bottle and collects in a spreading pool in my waiting paw.  I put the bottle down and rub my paws together, enjoying the calming vanilla scent that fills the shower.  Stepping out from under the showerhead just a bit, I spread the soap as evenly over my body as I can, my paws caressing it into my fur.  I start to scrub the soap into my fur, and it tingles very slightly and pleasantly.  Must be some kind of additive.  For several minutes, I stand there, the steam of the shower filling the room as I work the soap under my fur.   The scent fills my nose, the tingling fills my body.

	A drop of water breaks tension from my whisker and falls off, and the sensation breaks me from my reverie.  I must have gotten a bit too relaxed and dozed off or something.  I get back to work with the soap, rubbing it into my fifteen inch arms, pausing for just a moment to flex them.  Man, to think I was such a skinny little runt before, and here I've put on some actual mass!  I rub the soap into my broad chest, flexing that too, and moaning just a bit.  I wonder if other guys get turned on by their own bodies.

	The vanilla scent is so wonderful.  It tickles my nose as I bend to scrub the soap into my tummy and legs and crotch.  My fingers slide over the gentle curves of my six pack and I slowly cup my sheath and balls.  Since puberty I managed to be blessed with a decently-sized package down there; not too big, not too small.  As I work the soap into my sheath I feel it plumping up in my paw; a natural reaction to the stimulus.  It feels really good, though.  The soap tingles everywhere!  I feel so energized by it, yet the scent of the soap is so relaxing...

	I'm going to have to get this brand again.  What was it called?  I reach down for the soap bottle and my butt presses my tail up against the opposite wall.  This shower always did seem kind of small, but it served its purpose at least.  I can feel my hamstrings stretching as I reach, and it reminds me of the 405-pound deadlift I did the other day.  I can't believe how strong my legs have gotten since I started!  I remember when lifting my own bodyweight was a challenge, and that's only about 190.  That's barely a warmup for me now!

	Standing up and looking at the soap bottle, it occurs to me that all the lettering on it is in some Asian language.  Japanese probably.  I turn it around, and there is some hilariously garbled engrish on the information sticker.  "Otter: rub furiously for great dispensation of growing benefit! Lovely scent facilitate the brain function of calmness!"  What the hell does that even mean?

	Well, it smells nice and tingles: I'm sold.  I squirt another glob of soap into my paw and try to spread it over my back and shoulders.  Flexibility has been a bit of an issue since I got so big.  Having nearly twenty-inch arms means your biceps get in the way of your forearms when you bend your elbows.  Not to mention having such a wide, thick back means I can only reach so far around.  I can't even remember the last time I could touch the middle of my back.  Ah well, the troubles of a bodybuilder.  Despite the minor inconveniences, I really love being one of the big guys at the gym.  I reach down and stroke my now hard cock slowly with my soapy paw, and I shudder slightly with the pleasure.  It's nice being a pretty big guy down there, too.  As I slowly pump my cock, I flex my puffy chest, watching the pecs heave up towards my chin.  I am in utter ecstasy, filled with tingling pleasure, my head swirling with the wonderful vanilla scent.

	I should probably wash off now.  It's been...how long?  I can't even tell but the water is starting to turn closer and closer to lukewarm, which means the water heater is running out.  I bend forward to look over my massive pecs down at my impressive twelve-inch cock in my webbed paw.  Yeah, I should take care of that first.  I slowly stroke and rub over the thick length of otter meat, my other paw caressing my oversized body in the cramped shower stall.  I just barely fit in there enough to turn around, but if I'm not careful my big tail pushes the door open, so I have to stand with the shower head spraying at the middle of my back.  

	My webbed paw glides over my soapy pecs as I flex each one in turn, watching them bounce.  It's so fun!  I chuckle to myself and keep rubbing my cock, my other paw feeling the twenty-four-inch gun extend and contract with each stroke.  It's so awesome being huge.  All the other guys in the gym look up to me, both literally and figuratively.  I impress myself sometimes with how much weight I can move.  And who wouldn't be impressed? It's amazing how I managed to grow to almost 250 pounds of solid muscle (at only six feet tall, no less!) in so little time, but I guess my genetics were just right for it.  

	I pant as I work myself up, my paw groping at every sinew it can reach.  My fingers fall into the deep separations between my abdominal muscles.  I feel the sharp taper of my side as my paw slides inwards towards my hip, then back out again as it rubs over my enormous, thirty-six inch thighs.  I feel the bumps of each quadriceps muscle under my fingers as I reach between my legs to cup the two tennis-ball-sized balls there, tugging gently at them.  I moan deeply, my voice resonating in the shower stall, and I stroke my cock faster.  I can feel my climax building up...this is going to be a big one.  The soap, tingling its way through every fiber of my massive body, the scent clouding my mind...all feeling compounded into one single pleasurable moment. I grunt and rut violently as I cum, shooting a massive swatch of otter seed across the wall of the shower, my tail thumping heavily against the wall behind me as I do.  Growling, I brace a big webbed paw against the wall, my thick muscles tensing up as another two jets of cum splatter on the wall.  Panting, tingling, lightheaded, I stay there in the shower for a couple minutes to regain my composure.  I chuckle and rub my face.  That was definitely one of the best orgasms I've had in a while.

	I duck down under the showerhead and rinse off the rest of the soap, then squeeze out of the shower stall.  I grab a towel and stand there, dripping, drying off my huge body as best I can with the towel.  Wrapping the towel around my waist, my package pushing the front of it out obscenely, I go to the mirror, which is fogged up completely.  The glass squeaks against my paw as I clear away a bit of the fog to see myself.  Man, I look good.  I lift my arms up in a double biceps pose, my biceps like two furry boulders, my huge chest spreading out, my shoulders squeezing into mountains, and latissimus dorsi bulging out at my sides, making the taper to my small waist even more dramatic.  Yeah, not bad for an otter.