	“Hurry up with the bath, dear,” Eileen groaned, leaning against the wall. 
	“I can't pour the water any faster,” her husband chuckled, checking his watch. 10:48am. The two otters had been up for roughly eight hours now, ever since Eileen's water broke in the early morning, waking her up from a rather vivid dream and completely ruining the bedspread. She apologized profusely, of course, that being who she was, but her husband hardly heard her. He was far too excited.
	The pair opted to have the twins at home; Eileen didn't care for hospitals, and she didn't care for doctors, either. She said they made too much money to care about 'common folk' like her. “Spoiled brats, the lot of them,” she could frequently be heard mumbling whenever pressed on the subject.
	Without waiting for the tub to be filled, Eileen slipped in, breathing a buttery sigh of relief. She loved the water, of course, and the decision to have a water-birth was hardly a decision at all. Her husband chuckled.
	“Comfy?” he asked, splashing some water over her coarsely-furred belly. She nodded.
	“How long ago did you call the midwife?”
	“Twenty minutes ago,” he replied, “When you started getting really crampy.” 
	Eileen wondered if it had only been that long. It felt like she had been in labour forever. She vaguely remembered something about her midwife, a pleasantly plump elephant girl, living roughly half an hour away. Plenty of time, in the otter's opinion, her contractions had just started. 
	The water soothed her body, feeling like a big, warm hug. It dulled the urge to push, but only slightly, enough so that pain was mostly replaced by pressure. Her husband put a gentle hand on her belly, and she covered it with her own webbed fingers, closing her eyes as a contraction rolled through her. Her stomach churned visibly as the twins jockeyed for position, kicking and protesting as their home became much too small. 
	She spent what felt like an eternity this way, her body completely disconnected from space and time as her husband knew it. One moment she was in the bath, listening to the water flow, and then she was elsewhere, only roused by a harsh knock at the door. Her husband rose.
	“I'll get it,” he insisted with a wink, “Don't go anywhere.” He patted her taut belly as he left, closing the door behind him. She reclined into the bath, her belly forming a globular island in the middle of the water.
	He listened to him walk down the stairs. She heard the door open, but she didn't hear the charming voice of the midwife she expected. Instead, she heard hushed words exchanged, a muffled thud, and the harsh slam of a door. It was quiet for a few moments after that, and Eileen quickly became apprehensive. 
	“H-hon?” she called out. There was no answer. Now she was beginning to worry. Another contraction rippled through her lower body, less than a minute after the last one. She groaned loudly, pressing both her hands to the side of her belly. Maybe the midwife had gotten stuck in traffic, she thought, and had sent an assistant instead, and her husband was discussing the details of her 'plan'. That must be it. Still, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling of dread. Something wasn't right. She heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and the door to the bathroom opened.
	An immense figure blocked the light from the hall. Towering well over six feet in height, with a horned head and a sharp, angular snout. He wore heavy pants, and a black vest covered his torso but left his muscular arms exposed. A long, thick tail dragged behind him, and every inch of his body was covered in a layer of thick, protective scales.
	“Hello, Eileen,” he grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp, predatory teeth. Eileen shrieked, making a great splash in the bathtub as she rose suddenly, only to be roughly shoved against the tile wall by a firm hand against her throat. The intruder's eyes narrowed. He pressed hard, and the heavily pregnant otter feebly scrabbled against her neck, her eyes wide with shock and terror. She kicked vehemently as the dragon actually managed to lift her against the wall, her webbed feet thudding against the tiles and splashing the intruder. The dragon quickly quieted her down by pulling out his sidearm, pressing it against the side of her head.
	“Go ahead,” he grinned, “kick me. I wasn't planning to kill you, but I'm sure the boss won't bat an eye if plans change.”
	“The boss?” the otter parroted, wincing as her stomach churned, forcing one of the cubs lower than it was only a moment ago. It was a wonderfully strange feeling, having children. She may have enjoyed it more if she weren't being threatened at gunpoint. The dragon dropped the otter back into the tub with a splash, the pregnant mother-to-be yelping as her tailbone hit the hard alabaster.
	“Oh, forgive me,” the dragon laughed, “You can call me Vito,” he said proudly, holstering his weapon, “I'm a friend of a friend, you might say.” It was only then that the otter had enough sense to catch a glimpse of the glimmering silver chain around the dragon's neck, with a rusted-looking tooth dangling off the end of it. Her stomach dropped, and her cubs had nothing to do with it that time. Vito chuckled, following her gaze and holding up the tooth-necklace. “Get it?” he asked, a malevolent glint in his eye. Eileen nodded nervously, whispering a small prayer. She'd heard of them, the Iron Fangs. Her husband told her about them. Had he sold her out? Speaking of which, where was he?
	Vito didn't give the poor otter much time to think on the subject. He clenched a claw around her neck again, her head hitting the wall with a dull thud. His other claw weaselled between her legs, and her entire body stiffened.  She felt his claws searching, scrabbling for something, and she cried out, gripping both his wrists. 
	“Go ahead, scream!” he encouraged, a malicious grin splitting his muzzle as he apparently found what he was looking for. Eileen's scream turned into an almost unearthly groan as the dragon pulled, his claws wrapped around a little webbed foot. “What have we here?” he growled, looking down into the bath. Sure enough, the warped reflection of a little otter foot stared back at him, the little toes unfurling as the unborn cub explored all this new room.
	The dragon's grin widened, and Eileen grunted, kicking her feet upwards and catching the dragon in the jaw.
	“You little shit!” he roared, his claw recoiling from her neck and slamming into her face with an open palm. The otter's head rolled to the side, her eyes half-lidded. She was still breathing, but she wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Perfect, Vito thought. He let her slump down, her head above water, her legs clumsily spread out the sides of the bathtub. He undid his trousers, took off his vest, and joined the unconscious mustalid in the bath, raising the level of the water to the point where it began to spill out the sides. Just seeing her swollen, naked body was enough to get the dragon's member growing.
	Just then, the door flew open. Vito's heart skipped a beat, but relaxed when he saw his cohort standing in the doorframe, Eileen's husband in tow, his mouth filled with a large ball-gag. The figure holding him captive was short, a full head shorter than Vito, minus her rather large ears. She was a serval, and her slinky, spotted body was adorned with tight blue jeans and a form-fitting leather jacket.  The same trinket that hung around Vito's neck jingled on her wrist, mixed in with a plethora of other charms and bangles. Her gun was against the male otter's head. He fidgeted, and she hissed at him before turning to the rather occupied dragon.
	“Don't let us stop you,” she purred, “We're just here for the show, aren't we, sweetie?” she rubbed her claws along his neck, and the otter shook his head, closing his eyes and blocking out the hopeless situation around him.
	“ah-ah-ah,” the serval chided, her wrist jingling as she pressed the firearm against his temple, “Open those pretty little eyes of yours,” she commanded, “We need you to see what happens when someone misses a payment or two!”
	Vito nodded, grinning wickedly, and reached down with both hands, feeling for anything else to grab on to, eventually hooking his claw around the cub's other leg, dragging it down and pulling the cub until its little shoulders locked against the otter's pelvis. That'll do, he thought, feeling up between the face-down cub's little kicking legs, That'll do just fine. He felt something part around his claw, and the little legs stiffened instantly. The dragon was staring at the half-born tail end of a little girl.
	He had been ordered to take the newborn cub from her, but her husband mentioned twins. The dragon decided that he would let that little detail slip when he reported back. After all, what the boss didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
	“Look at that,” Vito beamed. “A little girl! Congratulations!”
	The male otter made a move to reach for his wife, but the click of both the serval's and the dragon's loaded weapons had a remarkable stopping power. 
	He rubbed the tiny genitalia with his claw, watching the little cub kick like a frog in the water. He imagined her trying to swim back inside her mother, back where it was safe. Not so fast, he thought. With both her little legs in his claws, he spread the half-born infant wide, and pressed the tapered tip of his manhood inside. Unfortunately, that was all he could fit in. He thought the water would make it easier, but all it did was wash away the slippery precum that was supposed to help ease him inside. He rolled his hips back and forth, and the newborn's protests doubled in strength, her tail clenching and her legs kicking like mad. The dragon had moved less than an inch, and already the infant otter felt like  it was going to split around him. He grinned, thankful that the gravid otter wouldn't be awake to see what happened next.
	He gripped the breech cub's legs tightly, spread her wide apart, and shoved forwards. He felt the infant seize violently, and the water turned a rather fetching shade of pink. He pulled back, and shoved in again, further, watching as the water darkened with another spurt of blood. Once more, and the water around the little cub had turned the color of red wine. By now, the dragon was a good three-quarters inside her, at least enough to begin thrusting in earnest. He craned his head back in pleasure as his ribbed member tore through fragile flesh, and the infant's kicking quickly stopped, her legs now hanging limp in the water as he gripped her tiny little hips, thrusting into a hole that was now at least twice as wide as it should have been. He restrained a primal growl of lust as he quickly filled the little body, warm ropes of draconic seed spilling into her guts through her broken womb, a few strands leaking out to hang languidly in the water.
	There was silence for a moment after that. Vito recovered quickly, wincing as he slowly withdrew from the deceased fuck-toy, a cloud of red following. He leaned forwards, hooking his claws into Eileen's birth canal, pulling out one arm, another, and then pulling the dead cub upwards, dangling her by the ankles before supporting her neck and flipping her right-side up, her head flopping forward before the dragon gripped it and held her up in all her grim glory. Her father shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head. 
	And then Vito got an idea. Picking up his sidearm again, he pointed it at the mortified otter and gestured to the feline. “Sharon, dear,” he started, addressing her by name, “Do me a favor and get our guest hardened up, would you? I think we should introduce him to his daughter!”
	The serval beamed, releasing her grip on his neck. The otter flailed, and Vito wasted no time in firing a shot through the wall beside him, then reloading his gun and pointing it directly at Eileen.
	“Any self-respecting father would choose death over what I'm about to make you do,” he leered, “But I'm not about to give you that option. If you so much as twitch the wrong way, and your entire family pays the price.” He lowered the gun to Eileen's belly. “Up to you.”
	Sharon was already busy fumbling with the otter's pants, his belt jingling slightly out-of-tune with her charm bangles. She ripped his boxers down and went straight to work, her rough tongue twisting and turning around his flaccid member. Anyone else would have a difficult time, getting a man aroused at the sight of his dead newborn, but Sharon was a master of the trade, having turned more than her share of tricks before being picked up by the gang. Scant minutes later, her work was rewarded with a rather impressive otter erection. He wasn't packing nearly as much heat as Vito, of course, but still enough to earn a nod of approval from Sharon. 
	“Now we see why Eileen was such a happy girl,” she grinned.
	“Indeed,” Vito nodded, biting through the umbilical cord and passing the wet, bloody ragdoll over. Sharon held it under the arms, pushing her unused mouth over her father's erect member. He backed against the door, cringing as his stillborn daughter took his cock down her throat. Vito clicked his gun as a polite reminder to stay put.
	“She's almost as good as I am,” Sharon giggled as she bobbed the little head up and down, the otter's cock pushing down her throat at what would have been an impossible angle if she were alive. Fortunately, at least for her, she wasn't, and with the feline's assistance, she made a wonderful little toy. Her silence was rather unnerving, though.
	“That's enough,” Vito announced as soon as the male otter began to stifle his ragged, ecstatic breaths through the ball-gag. Sharon obliged, but not before pressing her throat down as far as it could go, slowly lifting her up and off his throbbing cock, a thin strand of slime connecting father and daughter before snapping.
	“How would daddy like to give his little girl a sloppy second?” Sharon giggled, turning the cub around, gripping under her arms and allowing the head to flop backwards. After having been torn wide by the dragon, it was no trouble to fit Eileen's husband inside, hilting him on the first thrust. The otter shuddered, looking down to see the bulge of his cock through the stomach of his bloodied daughter. He put his hands on top of the feline's trying to push her weakly away, but Sharon just pushed back twice as hard, and the two quickly developed a rhythm – him pushing away, her pushing back, each strong shove bringing the otter closer to climax. He whispered obscenities under his breath, wincing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. He didn't want any part of this, but his balls demanded release!
	The otter gripped Sharon's hands, and she obliged, holding the little corpse perfectly still. He grimaced, and bucked his hips slightly, leaning against the closed door for support. He was caught – so close to climax, he couldn't let it stop now, but without Sharon's pushing, he would be forced to finish the deed himself. The very idea made him ill, but his body was already following through, pushing forward gently, as subtly as possible. Still, that was enough. He nearly doubled over as orgasm took him, forcing his unwilling body to dump his load right into his stillborn daughter's guts. He took a few noisy breaths through his nose and collapsed against the doorframe, practically in tears.
	There was still the matter of the unborn twin. Eileen's cunt was practically gaping wide, after having her first daughter stuck in there for so long. It was almost too easy for the dragon to insert his hand and feel a soft, wet head further up her birth canal. An unconscious mother wouldn't be very good at pushing, and Vito begrudgingly realized he would have to help her out. He leaned forward, pressing an arm against her upper belly, pushing downwards. Dismayed at the lack of progress, he removed his hand from her crotch and pressed down with both arms, pleased when he saw the tip of the little head between Eileen's legs. With another rough shove, followed by a long, steady press, the little head popped free, immediately starting to turn to allow the shoulder to follow. He grabbed the second cub by the neck and pulled, lifting it up and out of the water as it gave a gurgling cry.
	Vito dangled the newborn upside-down for a moment, fluid dribbling into the tub from the cub's mouth. It was another baby girl. The dragon bit the umbilical cord in half, cradling the wet, messy bundle in a towel and nestling it in his arms. “Congratulations,” he grinned, “Another little girl. I'll just hang on to the little slut as a bit of collateral until you can make those payments . . .plus interest.” 
	With that, Vito rose from the bath, and Sharon pushed the inconsolable male otter roughly aside as she led the dragon out the door. The pair needed to flee quickly – the little slut would need to be fed soon, and then there was the matter of clean-up. But the boss could deal with that.
