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Coach's Boys

by Linkin Monroe

Characters so far, but are not limited to the following list as football teams are fairly big! Feel free to comment if there are some species you'd like to see!

• Coach Collins - Rottweiler, Head Coach of the football team. 6'7"

• Coach Matt Williams - Puma, assistant coach. 6'2"

• Coach Noah Bjorn - Polar bear, assistant coach. 6'10"

Offense

Offensive (Interior) line

• Maxwell Pierce - Longhorn bull, Center. 6'10"

• Jett Malloy - Malamute, Guard. 6'6"

• Jason Donahue - Gorilla, Guard. 6'8"

• Kyril Ivanovich - Orca, Offensive and Defensive Tackle. 6'8"

Backs and receivers

• Leon Richards - Lion, Quarterback. 6'2"

• Randall "Randy" Johnson - Horse, Fullback/Running back. 7'

• Rory Dietrich - Doberman, Halfback/Running back. 6'4"

• Rolando Steffensen - Timerwolf, Wide receiver. 6'6"

• Sean Underwood - White-tailed deer, Wide receiver. 6'8"

• Cory Dietrich - Doberman, Tight end. 6'4

• Kyle Weber - German Shepherd, Tight end. 5'11"

Defense

Linebackers

• Chet Stone, Rhino, Middle linebacker. 6'7"

• Trenton Eisenhower - Tyrannosaurus Rex, Outside linebacker. 6'9"

Defensive backs

• Nathan Poleski - Husky, Free safety. 6'1"

---

Chapter One - Tryouts

The morning was hot and getting even hotter. The veil of fog that had settled on the practice field had evaporated into a stifling mugginess that was all too akin to the typical day in August. Just one more hour of this, the head coach thought to himself as he wiped the early perspiration off his brow with the back of his paw and then replaced the black and orange ball cap on his head. The head coach was an older canine, a rottweiler in his early 40s to be exact. He was over the average height for a dog of his breed, six foot seven to be exact, his stocky body covered with the typical black and tan fur. His ears remained in their natural flopped state, and his tail had been docked before he could even remember. His father used to say it toughened up boys, made them more resilient to pain. Coach Collins shook the memory of his late father out of his head and stared out for a moment at the large group of studs that he presided over. He had no pups of his own, and so he liked to call them his boys. Tall and muscular, each one full of youthful energy, he couldn't help but smirk to himself as his brain went back to younger days and remembering what it was like being their age. It seemed not too long ago.

The seasonal break had come to an end and now that they were back, the team needed to warm back up again. Often this would simply have them all do a few laps around the track after stretching out, but the heat was beginning to get to the players, and some tempers were running short. Coach Collins and his two other assistant coaches that helped to organize and train the team were standing underneath a pop-up canopy, waiting for the players to return from their final lap. Settled on the head coach's clipboard was his phone, hidden from view of anyone that might have looked over at him. He was idly thumbing through an app called Howlr, a gay dating app that he browsed from time to time. His eyes would dart from the profile that was open as he swiped left through the men online and back up to eye up the young hunks running around the circle as they passed by.

He could tell they were really beginning to work up a sweat, their muscles screaming as they jogged. This had been a very good turnout this year with almost an even number of returning players as well as potential new boys just hoping for a shot to make it onto the team. Coach Collins's team had won every game for the past three years, and he had seen many of his boys become men while under his guidance. His watchful eyes followed some of his star athletes from the previous season, noticing that they were stealing glances back at him until they realized he had seen them. With a quick smirk, they looked away and continued their steady pace around the track, not bothering to wipe the sweat from their foreheads.

Like his father had raised him, Coach Collins was tough on his boys, however, he cared very much for them, and even encouraged them to see him personally if they had any questions or needed some extra coaching after hours. In a way, he had become like a father to all of his players, and he was proud of every single one of them, wanting them to succeed and pursue their dreams of becoming a professional football player. Since their undefeated streak of three years, Coach Collins's reputation had exploded, even becoming national news. He paid it no attention, he was here for his boys and pushing them past their limits. No one outside of his regular team members truly knew how he did it, but it was known that if any team members that were serious could seek private training from him. What they didn't know was his training was more hands-on than off.

His eyes tracked his regulars as they ran. First, there was Leon Richards, a brash lion, but an immaculate specimen of the feline species. He stood just over six feet tall, his deep bronze colored mane held back in a bun. He wore a sleeveless shirt, his bulging shoulders and biceps on display, his arms held to his sides. Leon had risen to be the star quarterback during last season and had returned for another year, as well as being voted on to be the team captain. He often frequented coach's office to discuss plays while bent over his desk, mewling like a kitten as he took Coach Collins's thick cock.

Behind Leon, running on the track was another returning player, Leon's best friend and constant bodyguard, Randall Johnson, the fullback for the football team. He was the tallest out of his classmates, standing at seven feet. Everything about that horse was thick and muscular. His shoulders were broad, almost disproportionate to the rest of his body. His coat was a solid ebony color that reflected the morning sun off his rippling muscles. He had cut his mane short in the previous season, but since the break, it had grown out and was now braided into dreadlocks. His long tail was also braided but pulled up to the base to keep it short. The horse's outward appearance screamed stud, Coach Collins knew better than that, that sweet pony jock was still a virgin, proudly showing off his thick muscular ass that was just begging to be plowed.

Coach Collins glanced down at his phone, looking at the next Howlr profile that had been automatically pulled up while he had eyed up the two athletes, swiping left just as a few of the recruits had finished the final lap and hunched over, panting heavily, their clothes doused in their own sweat, tongues hanging almost comically out of their mouths. They'd blown their stamina quickly as if to show off how fast they were to impress the Coach, no, he was looking for boys that could go the distance and then some. They would be of no use to the team if they couldn't make it halfway through a game, let alone a private one-on-one training session.

He took a moment to take notes on his clipboard next to the names of the recruits, crossing their names out. They wouldn't be making the cut. Coach Collins swiped left just as another group came jogging up, this time spotting a two more of regulars, Cory and Rory Dietrich, a pair of Doberman twins standing alongside a new recruit, a German Shepherd whose name, according to his list of potentials, was Kyle Weber. Despite the twins uncharastically, identical and intimidating outward appearance; standing at six feet tall, with the familiar sleek black and tan fur, cropped ears and short stump tail gave them that stereotypical big, bad alpha dog in school look, but Coach Collins knew that they were both possibly the most outgoing and friendliest dogs on the team. Of course, he also knew they were also probably the biggest cockhounds on the team, always wordlessly arguing over who got to get their black wet lips around his fat cock while the other sucks the sweat off of his low hanging weighty balls. Both had become talented cocksuckers over the years, he almost felt the need to keep them off his cock sometimes or they'd suck the family jewels dry. He watched the three canines converse, and his keen eyes caught the two Doberman checking out the oblivious shepherd. Apart from his stocky upper body, the shepherd's usually heavy coat was matted down in sweat, his shirt clung tightly to those hidden muscles underneath. The compression shorts hugged the pair of strong legs and nicely accentuated his additional assets that the Coach could appreciate.

He watched as the Dietrich brothers approached, leading their new friend to the canopy where an orange 5-gallon water cooler sat on top of a fold-out table. They caught him watching them, giving him a knowing look and a half cocky grin, one of them gave him a thumbs up from behind Grant and winked. Coach Collins almost felt guilty, he usually wasn't even sure which one was actually which most of the time, but they responded well enough to "Dietrich" when he wanted one of them out on the field or "Good boys" when he put his paw on the back of their heads and held them down on his cock.

Coach Collins's attention was caught when he heard the frustrated sound of someone lashing out and turned his head to see a Timberwolf standing over a recruit, fists clenched as he shouted at him. Rolando Steffensen was a returning player and not one that had approached Coach Collins for private lessons during last year's season. He had been known to be a bit of a hothead, and other players had been fairly respectful to him outside of the locker room. The wolf had the typical markings, primarily gray fur from the top of his head that ran down his back and to his bushy tail, along with brown fur on his ears and muzzle, feet and the tip of his tail, and the remainder of his fur was a soft creamy white fur that, apart from the two eyebrow markings, stretched from his black nose to the rest of his body.

From where he stood and the wolf's raised hackles, sweat dripping from his fur, his drooling tongue hanging out of his snarling muzzle, Coach Collins quickly deduced what had happened, that the young husky had accidentally run into Steffensen and with how long they'd been out there in the heat, the wolf snapped and shoved the younger male down. He moved quickly to intervene with one of the assistant coaches, however by the time they had gotten there, Steffensen had been grappled by a single teammate, a massive rhinoceros by the name of Chet Stone, the middle linebacker for their defensive team. The recruit that was cowering on the ground, a smaller red husky who's name escaped Coach Collins, was whimpering, his elbows scraped on the Tartan track. Coach Collins moved in to help out the pup, squatting down on his legs, noticing a small circular tattoo around the husky's tummy button with an arrow that pointed southward to his groin before he pulled the sweaty t-shirt down over the exposed stomach and offered him a paw up.

"Let go of me!" Steffensen growled and fought against Stone, the rhino effortlessly held the Timberwolf to his sweaty barreled chest, the kicks and punches bounced off his slippery thick hide. As a peacekeeper, Stone would hold onto the wolf until he calmed down or was instructed to let go by his superior.

Coach Collins ignored the shouts coming from the wolf, brushing off the husky once he was up to his feet.

"Th-Thank you, Coach," the husky stuttered in a shy low voice, his head bowed to the rottweiler's kindness.

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't decided if you're on the team yet." Coach Collins said gruffly, his paws lingered as they brushed off the bits of track off the husky's body, secretly feeling the soft mounds of muscle on the husky. To anyone else, it may have looked natural, making sure he was comforted. Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention to Steffensen who seemed to of tired himself out trying to fight Stone.

"What the hell is your deal, Steffensen?" Coach Collins shouted, making the wolf pin his ears back to his head and tuck his tail between his legs. When Coach used their last names in the same sentence, they knew things were serious. "Are you trying to get kicked off the team before we even have our first practice?"

"Coach, let me explain--" Steffensen tried to object, a whine in his throat.

"I don't want excuses," Coach Collins interrupted him and pointed one of his thick fingers accusingly at the wolf. "If you so much as intentionally harm another student, I will have you kicked off the team. Got it?"

The wolf didn't protest anymore. He shut his mouth and bit his tongue.

This did not please Coach Collins. He furrowed his brow markings and glared at Steffensen. "I'm waiting for an answer boy."

"Yes sir." Steffensen responded, his head hung shamefully to look down at the red track.

"Good. I want to see you in my office after showers, no excuses. Stone, thank you, you may release Steffensen."

The rhinoceros complied, unhooking his arms from Steffensen and let the wolf stumble back onto his own two feet. Now covered in even more sweat, the wolf muttered under his breath as he wobbled slightly over to the canopy to get a drink of water and to cool off.

By this time, the remaining players and the straggling recruits had all finished the last lap and were begging for some cool air as the midday sun beat down on their backs. Coach Collins looked around, doing a quick head count and blew his whistle to get everyone's undivided attention.

"Alright, everyone warmed up and ready to keep going?" Coach Collins asked into the megaphone one of the assistants had handed him.

There were a few groans from the recruits who were already reaching their limits. The returning players stamped their feet into the track and let out a howl.

"We're going to separate into groups, those that are signing up for defense will follow Stone and work on blocking techniques, and those that are here for offense will follow Richards and will practice catching and passing the ball. Both of my assistants will be at hand watching and providing feedback and watching you new guys. I see a lot of spirit in you guys, but that won't be enough to get you on the best damn team in the state. Now? WHO WANTS TO CARRY THE BANNER TO FINALES?" he barked out loud. He didn't have to worry whether or not his short and usually uninspired speeches pumped up the students gathered around him, his boys were all energetic and full of energy that others could just feed off of it. A resounding "YES COACH!" was shouted in unison followed by more howling as the group scattered onto the football field that was surrounded by the Tartan track.

Coach Collins glanced down at his phone still on his clipboard, turning it back on since it had automatically turned off during his speech and the fight. The picture of the profile that had loaded on his Howlr caught his eye. It was none other than Rolando Steffensen, posing in front of a mirror in one of those silly selfies, showing off his body, each sculpted muscle and those firm pectorals. His eyes drank up all the information on the Timberwolf's profile, from the eye-rolling username of xXxDaddiesPup69xXx to the wolf's list of kinks, it made the older man lick his jowls as he felt his sheath stir within his jockstrap.

"Down boy..." he growled to himself, swiping right on the profile and then closing the app and pocketing his phone as he looked up and watched the group of offensive team members as they got into a position at the line of scrimmage. Coach Collins's eyes fell upon the wolf wide receiver, the way his legs spread and bushy gray, brown and white tail lifted to show off to show off his muscular and protruding rear. The faintest hint of a jockstrap could be seen, the rottweiler could just imagine that puckered hole clenching and relaxing as sweat trickled down between the ass cheeks, Coach Collins couldn't help his erection as it poked from his sheath.

The remainder of the tryout went by without trouble, the whole group was dismissed and instructed to go shower. A few recruits stopped to thank Coach Collins and the assistant coaches and exchange a few words, hoping to make a final good impression to make it onto the team. In his mind and on the clipboard, his decision was mostly already made up on who would make it and who wouldn't. He would still discuss it with Coach Bjorn and Williams after his meeting with Steffensen.

The last of the recruits double timed it to the locker room when he turned and saw the red husky from earlier.

"H-hey Coach, I just wanted to thank you again," the husky approached shyly and offered a paw to shake.

"Heh don't sweat it pup," Coach Collins smiled and shook the husky's paw, squeezing it and holding it just slightly longer. "You did a fine job during the tryouts, Mr..." He looked down at his clipboard and spotted the husky's name. "Poleski. I was watching you during the agility training. Very quick on your feet and you look like you know how to handle balls."

A slight blush appeared on the inside of the husky's ears and he withdrew his arm, rubbing his forearm nervously. "Uhh yes sir," the husky stammered and wagged his curled tail. "Thank you sir," he quickly added. "You can call me Nathan, or Nate."

Coach Collins crossed his arms, giving the husky a stern look over. "Well Nate, I call all the boys on my team my boys or by their last name. Just a heads up in case I pick you for the team," he gave the husky a wink and laughed so heartily his muscle gut shook. "But don't tell anyone I told you. Now scamper off with you pup, you smell ripe for grooming. Feel free to stop by my office anytime."

"Yes sir!" the husky smiled and took off jogging toward the locker room, his curly tail wagging happily as his butt cheeks jiggled with every bounce of his step. Coach Collins stood outside a little longer, controlling his breathing as he watched that cute rump disappear into the entrance to the tunnel that lead to the locker room from the stadium field. This new season was going to be a good one. He could feel it in his bone.

The inside of the locker room was like a zoo, full of studs and their voices all a buzz as all they brushed past each other around the rows of orange lockers, they were talking over each other as the returning jocks stripped down to their sweaty jocks while they caught up what happened during their break. The potential recruits watched bashfully, shyly taking off their clothes and quickly wrapping a towel around their waists to hide their indecency.

A few of the older more confident boys just didn't care who starred as they walked past Coach Collins as he walked into the locker room, headed for the showers. As he headed for his office at the opposite end of the locker room, he was blocked by a longhorn bull named Maxwell Pierce. The big brawny center stood in nothing but the fur he was born with, his massive low hangers swung between his legs as he shifted his weight, something Coach Collins knew he was purposely doing. He did his best to avoid looking down at the steer's sheath, but that didn't stop his nose from picking up the scent of a hard-working slut who should be rewarded for his hard work during practice. However badly Pierce wanted his coach's fat cock up his muscular ass, Coach Collins had to remain as professional as he could outside of closed doors.

"What can I do for you son?" The rottweiler asked, looking up past that well-built body and into deep brown puppy eyes, begging to join him in his office. He knew exactly what the bull wanted, and the stirring in his sheath confirmed he wanted it just as badly.

"I wanted to know if we could discuss the practice schedule for this season, sir," Pierce inquired, tilting his head toward the closed office door that had a black plaque with Coach Collins's name engraved on it.

As much as he wanted to plunge his face into the stud's voluptuous rump and eat him out voraciously and hear that deep bellowing bovine beg for him to fuck him. But that would have to wait until the locker room was less crowded.

"Not today son," Coach Collins said sternly as he walked around the bull, not gazing too long before giving him a slap on the ass cheek, watching that perfectly shaped rump jiggle and heard the soft moan of a moo escape from Pierce's lips. He was certain he could hear the bull pop a boner just from that quick spank as he walked down to his office and walked inside, smirking as he imagined that slab of meat swinging in front of everyone in the locker room. He closed the door and immediately the sound of the locker room chatter deafened. He exhaled heavily as he leaned against the metal door, feeling his cock stiffen inside his jockstrap, all that eye candy was almost too much for his hyperactive cock to handle. Now that he was safely inside his own space, he reached down his shorts and jockstrap, rubbing his thick tan paw down over his balls and then back up to his sheath, pulling it back to free his cock, collecting the sweat he worked up all morning long. He brought the damp paw up to his flaring nostrils and inhaled deeply. Fuck, he smelled so good to himself. He groaned as he put his other paw over his bulge, grinding against it as he kept sniffing his paw, his jowls drooling as his tongue flicked out to lick up his own sweat.

The rottweiler could feel pre begin to drip from his throbbing meat, a wet spot seeped through the jock and onto his short shorts. He knew he wouldn't have long before Steffensen showed up knocking at his door, and he planned on giving that wolf a hard lesson in mannerisms. He crossed over the room and sat down at his desk, dropping his shorts and jockstrap, letting them slide down to his ankles on their own and reached over for the drawer on his right for the bottle of lube he kept handy when he felt something soft and padded wrap around his thick cock and a pair of wet lips start to nurse his pointed tip.

"Ooooh fuck..." Coach Collins cursed under his breath, exhaling as his paw reached down into the space under his desk, grabbing a pawful of fur on the nape of the hidden person's neck and pulled them down on his cock. Any of his boys knew that once they entered through that door into office, it was consensual for him to do as he pleased with them. He pushed the head down on his cock, feeling teeth accidentally poke the side of his flesh. He growled deeply. No, this wasn't one of his boys. He pulled the head back and scooted his chair back and looked between his legs. Under his desk knelt the red husky, Nathan Poleski. The shy pup looked up, his white fur almost as crimson as the primary fur on his backside.

"C-Coach... I would do anything to get on the te--" Poleski began to stammer when his sentence was cut off by being pushed back down on the rottie's cock, feeling the rottweiler's guiding hand rub the back of his head as he rumbled deeply in his chest.

"When you're in my office, you will obey and listen to every order given," Coach Collins began as he assisted the amatuer cocksucker around his member, feeling the boy's tongue try to swirl around the fat piece of meat that was rubbing against the roof of his maw. "All of my boys that walk through that door understand that consent is important to me. They chose to come through that door and know what they're getting themselves into. Now you, you're a first... sneaking into my office to bribe me for a spot on the team. Seems like a cheeky pup like you are in need of some proper training before I can let you on my team. Get your lips over your teeth boy, I don't like to feel them on my cock."

The husky was a fast learner, curling his black lips over his sharp canines to not accidentally poke the coach's cock again and concentrated on pleasuring the muscular canine sitting in front of him. Coach Collins wanted to lean back in his chair and let the newbie cocksucker try to get him off on his first time blowing a man. It felt good to kick back and relax after the long sweltering morning tryouts. He hadn't even made up mind if the husky would make the cut, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from getting a well-deserved blowjob.

Wet slurps escaped from Poleski's lips and filled the room as the husky found his rhythm to fit that big fat juicy bone in his muzzle, drooling as one paw held the base of the growing knot. The coach's precum oozed like a broken faucet over his tongue, his taste buds savoring each drop. It wasn't an unpleasant taste, just sticky salty treat that went down easy in his throat. Poleski thought he was just getting the hang of it when the coach grunted over him and with one paw on the back of his head, the other held his drool covered chin and started to use his muzzle.

"Unfortunately, I gotta cut it short kiddo," Collins mumbled gruffly and started to use the muzzle like it were a fleshlight. Heavy sweaty balls pressed tight to the husky's chin every time the rottweiler hilted into the unused throat, making Poleski's eyes water. He thought he had mentally prepared himself to blow a man twice his age, but he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. His cock wasn't even comparable to the coach's, but he found himself drooling for more. The rottweiler wasted no time to fuck his muzzle, keeping his head steady despite the husky's body spasming for air. The experience only lasted a long torturous minute, the rottweiler huffing and puffing, each grunt guttural and deep. The red husky had imagined his first experience to be one to remember, and never had he dreamed to be blowing such a hunky dad type, especially one he had hoped to be his football coach. He was lost in the thoughts of keeping up with the rottweiler, he didn't expect to taste the creamy salty rottweiler jizz so soon. Coach Collins groaned and kept a big tan paw on Poleski's head, watching the husky's tear filled eyes shoot wide open and choke as his cute cheeks fill out as he fed the pup a well earned day's worth of seed. The tan paw on the husky's chin slid down to hold the husky's neck, the palm pad resting on his Adam's apple.

"I'll only tell you this once kid," Coach Collins warned as he looked sternly into those pleading eyes as white strings of cum began to drip from the husky's black lips and nostrils. "You swallow every drop, or I'll give you detention."

With that command, Poleski began to swallow the best he could, taking large gulps as rottweiler continued to unload. It felt like every time he gulped down one load, there was another shot that filled up his muzzle. His tongue worked its way up the underside of the shaft, taste buds collecting the salty flavor of the coach. Savoring it the best he could before swallowing it down and repeating.

After what seemed like several minutes, the Coach pulled his still impressively hard shaft out of the husky's muzzle, he pushed his chair out from his desk and let the husky scramble free. He noticed the slight wet bulge in the husky's front and smirked.

"Off to the showers Poleski," Coach Collins chuckled and rolled back to his spot behind his desk, pulling his shorts back on, tucking his sweaty jockstrap into the top right drawer. "I'm sure you can find a teammate willing to assist you."

The red husky smiled and hiccupped, cum still in his muzzle. He was about to thank the coach when the rottweiler interrupted with a raised index finger. "No talking with a muzzle full. Go now, I have another appointment shortly."

Poleski simply nodded and turned to leave, opening the door and without looking, nearly colliding a second time with the Timberwolf he had ran into earlier on the track. He squeaked and stopped as the wolf let out a annoyed growl and let the husky slip past him before walking into the darkened office and closing the door behind him. He didn't even notice the tent in the husky's shorts, or catch the smell of his coach's scent. Years of male sweat and testosterone had stained the locker room, it was easy to just shrug it off and not pay any attention to it. Steffensen, the Timberwolf sat down in one of the two seats facing the desk, his ears lowered as he waited for Coach Collins to speak first.

Finally the silence was broken when the rottweiler lowered his paws from muzzle, as if he had been thinking of the words to say. "What happened on the field today with Mr. Poleski?" Coach asked curiously.

"He ran into me, probably wasn't paying attention." Steffensen muttered in annoyance as he slumped in his seat and twiddled his thumbs. "Look, I won't do it again. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Shut your trap." The rottweiler cut the wolf off with a curt response, growling Steffensen's attitude and cut off the boy. "And if you want to come back for a second year, I think it's past due you learned a few manners and learn to respect your elders, pup."

Steffensen responded with his own growl and lunged forward in his seat, leaning over the desk to growl at the rottweiler. Even if Collins was the head coach, and that old dog thought he could boss him around, he would give him a piece of his mind. Or so Steffensen thought when he slammed his paws down on the desk. He didn't expect the rottweiler's paw to come down and grip the nape of his neck and bring his head down on top of the desk with a loud smash. Steffensen yelped and kicked, struggling to get free from the rottweiler's steel grip. His paws came up to grasp at the thick tan forearms, trying to pry it off.

"G-get off! Let me go!" Steffensen struggled, feeling trapped under the rottweiler's hold. No matter what he did, he couldn't get himself up or pull the arms away, even trying to dig his claws into the flesh under the short fur. Every time he tried to, the rottweiler's paw seemed to increase in strength, pulling the fur up from his neck and at the same time, keep his head firmly on the desk. He gritted his teeth and snarled a threat. "I'll fucking tell my dad you're fucking beating us."

"He'd probably thank me for giving you a few lashing across your worthless hide." Coach Collins replied calmly, not a hint of pain in his voice as the wolf continued to sink his claws into his forearm. "Though, you'd probably enjoy that Steffensen. Wouldn't you, DaddiesPup69?" He said coldly, making sure that each word was accentuated. Oh, this was Collins's favorite part. The crumbling of the walls of the tough guys. The wolf froze and his fingers loosened. "Bet you're such a good pup for daddy, begging to him when you want something." The rottweiler stood up, and despite having blown a load in the husky's willing muzzle, he was eager again for something less willing at the moment.

Steffensen tried to choke something out, but was finding it hard to do anything right now. Had Coach been spying on him? He was always careful when he was messing with his buddy on the team. He wanted to ask how Coach knew or if he was off the team. He whimpered at the serious thought of being kicked off the team. His thoughts were interrupted when his nostrils caught the stronger scent of a man, his eyes popping open and saw the prominent rottweiler bulge in front of him. The defined bulge was perfectly level with the top of the desk, had Coach had it custom made just for this, he wondered briefly as he tried to open his mouth.

"Now, as I was saying, I think it's past due you learned a few manners and learn to respect your elders," Coach Collins repeated. "Let go of my arm, pup." He ordered, making sure to emphasize the word. He no longer used the wolf's surname. No, he was in his office, and getting the wolf's consent was his next goal.

Steffensen let go hesitantly and the Coach grunted in approval. His feet had stopped kicking wildly and were now planted on the ground, but he could feel his legs trembling nervously, his tail tucked between them. His eyes hadn't left the sight of the growing bulge in front of him, able to see the ever so slightly seen throb of the shaft underneath those thin shorts. He would never admit it out loud, but he had been curious since the first day he was on the team to see what Coach was packing, since it wasn't so hard to see some pronunciation of bulge while he was barking plays to them from the sidelines.

"Now hard ass pups like you are usually the tightest," Coach continued as he kept his vice-like grip on the wolf's neck. His free paw brought his phone up in front of the wolf's snout, swiping through Steffensen's Howlr profile. "But it seems you're no stranger to the scene. Almost three dozen reviews, near five stars across the board, with being too loud being their biggest complaint. Yer a mouthy pup, and that's your first lesson in manners today. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I've been teaching tricks to my players before your balls even dropped, pup. So, I'm giving you the choice between dropping from the team or do you want to become a better wolf?"

Steffensen's ears folded as he looked up at the Coach, caught red-handed and now being humiliated by the rottweiler. But there was a hint of truth and sincerity in the coach's voice, something beyond the anger and the lust. He looked back at the bulge in front of him, his mind thinking of any scenario of what Coach had in mind for the first lesson. Would there be a second lesson? How many lessons were there?

Tense seconds went by, the circular analog clock above the door ticked each one before the Timberwolf nodded and managed to speak. "Yes, sir."

Coach Collins kept his grip on the wolf's neck and put the phone aside and opened a drawer to the wolf's left. He pulled out what looked like to be a bunched up article of clothing and without warning, he wadded it up and stuck it into the wolf's muzzle. Steffensen's face scrunched up at the repugnant smell of sweat and cum, tasting it moments later clinging to the fabric. He tried to spit it out, disgusted by the rottweiler. Thick fingers kept the used jockstrap pushed in, working it into the wolf's muzzle as a makeshift ball gag. Steffensen's struggles were futile, and soon would tire out, especially after such a long and grueling day of warming up. He was patient, and Steffensen would learn patience soon enough.

As Steffensen's body slowly became accustomed to Collins's control, he looked over the Timberwolf. He had showered and gotten dressed in something casual, a t-shirt and tight fitting jeans that hugged that oh so well rounded and toned ass. He had the appearance of a studly wolf, but his attire screamed "BITCH". He couldn't wait to give that boy the spanking he deserved. As the minute passed, Steffensen's resistance began to wane and the rottweiler proceeded with his ordeal, taking the side straps of the jockstrap and bringing them to the wolf's pinned ears while leaning forward and pressing his tented erection against the wolf's incapacitated muzzle without fear of being nipped. He gyrated his hips, rubbing his musk over Steffensen's nose, masking his view from anything else. The wolf moaned as he got a good whiff of his coach, inhaling and filling his lungs with the manly smell. Each intake weakened his senses and his struggle against the older canine's advances.

"That's it, you dirty little slut," Coach Collins mused out loud, determined to break down whatever ego the hot-headed wolf had created. He enjoyed dirty talk behind closed doors and making his boys needy cockholsters just was the topping on the beefcake. He had such control over his players, that even if their thick-headed skulls somehow managed to work together to overpower him, they were conditioned to bend over on command. Steffensen wasn't the first bully to be on the team, and Collins was certain he wouldn't be the last. He kept speaking in a soothing tone while degrading the wolf with his words the entire time.

It didn't take long for him to finally succumb and relax, beaten into submission. That didn't mean that Coach Collins would let go of the muscular wolf's neck. He learned from that mistake many years ago. He kept Steffensen bent over as he rounded the desk, coming up behind the wolf, who surprisingly had a slight natural lift to his tail. Steffensen had worked his tongue to curl around the jockstrap ball gag to fit comfortably within his drooling mouth, while still keeping himself from snapping or saying anything intelligent, if that was possible for such a jock. He was surprised the rottweiler could operate with one free paw with such finesse, unclipping the button that latched over his bushy tail to dropping his jeans down to his ankles and revealing the boxer briefs and the wolf's surprising erection underneath.

Steffensen's breath was cut short when the rottweiler pushed himself on top of him, smashing his hips to his muscular rump, bulge rubbing firmly between his covered ass cheeks. He crashed on top of the desk, his cock caught under the desktop, the fabric tugging as it grew tighter with the added mass and angle. Coach Collins began to grind, all ready to fuck again despite not much time passing since his last orgasm. His free paw moved up and grabbed the two straps dangling from the wolf's ears and pulled on them while releasing his grip on the back of Steffensen's head. Even if he tried something now, Coach Collins had a makeshift bridle to control the Timberwolf's head. He reached down and tugged the back of the wolf's boxer briefs down, letting them rest below the two perfectly shaped mounds and pulled his own shorts off, his cock slapping between the ass cheeks.

"Reach into the open drawer on your left, slut." Coach Collins instructed as he hotdogged the gray-furred cheeks, smearing precum into the cleft that it rolled over the tight pucker and down to the taint. "Grab the bottle of lube, and put it to your side. Otherwise, you're definitely going to be walking funny on the field for the next few practices."

Steffensen quickly obeyed, his paw reaching out and reached into the drawer. He couldn't see what was inside, but feeling around, he whimpered at the thought of what other objects Coach had stored inside that drawer. He squeezed what felt like a bottle and was relieved to see he was correct when he lifted it out. He set it down next to his side and Coach Collins picked it up, popping the cap open with a snap and spurted a generous amount over his shaft and the wolf's rump, letting the cold fluid run down and tease the wolf's wrinkly tailhole.

"Good boy," Collins praised as he rubbed two fingers against the wolf's sensitive rim, smearing the lube against the opening that clenched in anticipation. Steffensen moaned like a bitch in heat when he felt the two fingers wedge between his ass cheeks and prod his tailhole. Despite any outward appearance of being muscular and tough, Steffensen with his hookups on Howlr, he become quite experienced with bottoming. It had been rough at first, but the more he did it, the more he found himself craving to feel something against his prostate, so in a way of enjoying sex, getting accustomed to bottoming for a lot of the local horny men, had turned the Timberwolf into a bit of a closeted whore. His tailhole opened up easily enough when Coach Collins teased it, and as they sunk in deeper, his anal muscles began to clench and squeeze, as if trying to reel those fat fingers in further. Coach rumbled in approval at what a natural the wolf had seemed to be, and hooked the fingers to press on the little pleasure button on every male. Steffensen's moan turned sluttish as he kept the pressure on it, watching the wolf's leg twitch and kick as if he were a pup getting a well-deserved belly rub.

"D-duuunn... st-uuuhhh..." Steffensen managed to slur without the use of his tongue to form words, but Coach had been with enough of his boys to know what he was trying to say, and he wasn't about to stop now. Not until he had fucked some sensibility in the wolf, and left his tailhole open and dripping rottweiler jizz.

"You like that slut?" Collins teased, toying with the Steffensen's prostate, pushing and releasing, feeling every muscle in the wolf's loosening tunnel react to it, clenching every time he let up. "Your ass is practically begging me to stay in it. A natural born tailraiser... that's what you are DaddiesPup. One size fits all." He tested Steffensen's limits, finding that he could easily manage to fit in a third finger and a fourth with some patient and determination. He had never put his entire paw in one of his boys, never had it crossed his mind to see if they'd stretch that much. He didn't want to seriously harm any of them and preferred them tighter than looser. When he was satisfied with his work, he pulled his lube covered fingers out and stroked his dripping cock a few times before angling it to the quivering hole and sank his shaft into the wolf. His paw gripped the bushy tail out of the way, and just pushed forward with his hips and didn't stop until his gut was resting on top of the wolf's rump. He let go of the tail and grasped the Timberwolf's hip, yanking it back as he pushed in again. Steffensen's eyes rolled back as his prostate was jabbed and his insides stretched by his Coach's cock. The sensations shooting up his spine was euphoric, the wolf felt like he was in naughty heaven, and begging for more would have been sinful.

But he didn't have to ask for more, Coach Collins gave it willingly. He growled in pent up anger, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on fucking such a prime ass, his cock pistoned in and out of Steffensen's well-lubricated tailhole. He kept his paw on the wolf's hip back, taking the day's frustration out on the submissive wolf's rear end, causing the entire desk to tremble beneath him as Steffensen moaned like a bitch underneath Collins, his eyes half-lidded as his tongue hung out of his wide-open muzzle. Laying flat over his coach's desk, drool collected on the jockstrap ball gag and pooled under his chin, just like his teammates before him. Coach Collins watched his shaft sink into the Timberwolf until nothing but his pushed back sheath was nestled right against the wolf's sphincter, popping the growing knot inside him, feeling that snug wolf's ass clench tight like a vice before pulling it back out with a satisfying slurp as precum and lube kept him slick.

"Fuck," Coach Collins swore out loud, impressed by how well the wolf was taking his relentless assault. "Your ass is gripping on so tightly to my cock, I betcha can't get enough cock inside your bitch hole you dirty little slut wolf."

The wolf couldn't manage to form any words as Coach Collins continued to ravage his ass, watching it bounce and jiggle every time he stretched it open with his knot and then the jolt of power and pleasure over the jock beneath him as his swelling knot popped free. Steffensen's senses were overloaded with pain and pleasure from the rottweiler's rough treatment as he felt his coach's knot pressed against his prostate, feeling his balls start to pull up, his long-forgotten cock still stuck under the desk in his boxer briefs. He knew he was dripping precum, he could feel the wet fabric clinging to his groin. As the coach's fat knot pulled free from his tailhole, he felt an indescribable tingle within his guts begin to rise, the most powerful and blissful orgasm he'd felt to date.

The rottweiler smirked to himself as he caught whiff of the smell of puppy batter and his floppy ears caught the soft sound of a splat and firmly gripped Steffensen's hips with both his paws, leaving the straps dangling of the jock's ears and pulled them back as he drove his hips forward and slammed his knot into his new jockslut's ass, growling as he let go of his orgasm and began to spill his seed inside that stretched tunnel. He bucked his knot against Steffensen's prostate, milking it until the wolf saw stars.

Heaving and panting hard, spittle dripping from his jowls, Coach Collins leaned over the newest addition to his boys and rested his sweaty forehead against the wolf's backside, still feeling his balls empty inside him, though not as much as the beginning of his orgasm. He reached around, feeling up Steffensen's soaked underwear with a big tan paw and rubbed the wolf's cum into his groin and softening cock before he lifted the paw out and withdrew the jockstrap from the slack-jawed wolf. "Hope you learned a valuable lesson today pup. I expect to see you in my office again, same time next week for lesson two. Though you're always welcome to stop by if you need some additional sessions. I always make time for my boys."

"A-ah... th-thank you C-Coach." Steffensen managed to say, his body still tingling from the intense orgasm and the continuous feeling of his coach's big fat throbbing knot against his prostate. He bit his lip and pushed his firm rump back against the coach's groin. "I'll remember that... and the valuable lesson you've taught me today."