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Delivering More Than Expected

By Bianchi

Esquire Towers. 77 floors of the most opulent, luxurious condos of such fame and expense, only members of the most upper, flakiest, melt-in-your-mouth crust could afford them. And on the 76th floor (a single level from the rooftop suite, which was occupied by whichever rapper decided to burn his signing bonus that month) were Donovan Yates and Joseph Quinan. The fist bumping, no-homo spewing wolf and husky duo were two of ASU's most notorious frat boys, infamous campus-wide for destroying kegs, smashing bitches, and eviscerating their fathers' lines of credit--a small fortune having already been spent to mask the fuckups of their only children not born through infidelity with the housemaid.

"Dude, fuck this." Joe said, chucking the camo-print Xbox controller against the wall. "Bunch of fags always knifing me in this bullshit game. Fucking nerds need to get a life."

"Bro, chill the fuck out," Donovan said, the husky hopping over the couch and handing his boy a cold one before cracking open his own. "Your dad'll go fucking ballistic if we wreck this place again. You gotta relax, bro. Call up Sandy or something, what's the point of having a bitch if she ain't gonna suck your big ol' wolf dick when it needs suckin'?"

"Can't, dude," Joe said, his teeth digging into the can and shotgunning it in a single gulp like a tailgating superstar. "I dumped that bitch a week ago."

"That don't mean shit, bro. Call her up anyways, she'll be wanting your dick real bad after a breakup."

"No, dude." Joe said, raising his ASU jersey to expose his soft pot belly. "I dumped her. Bitch clogged up the toilet something fierce when I was done with her."

The wolf chucked the can behind the couch before squeezing his soft belly, a roaring belch blowing sloppy spittle and beer foam across the room.

BUUURRRRRRPRPPPP

"BRO!" Donovan shouted, the husky like an excited toddler with his first set of crayons as he raised up for a fiver. "That's what I'm talking about! Fuck bitches, get money, am I right!?"

"God damn right, dude." Joe said, eagerly slapping fur with his best bud. "I fucking love turning bitches into shit."

The two settled into the couch, paws kicked up onto the grimy coffee table, haphazardly knocking over countless cans of brews and tubes of Pringles.

"Sucks though, dude." Joe said, working his paw across the fat bulge in his sport shorts. "Gulping down Sandy means I haven't been blown in over a week..."

Donovan watched with hungry eyes as the wolf's shorts tented, his bro's musk filling the room.

"Help me out, dude?" Joe said, leaning back into the couch.

"Bro..." Donovan said, the husky's ears flopping down. "I always help you out. When you gonna help me out, bro?"

"I help you out by putting you up in this condo, dude. Besides, I'm the fucking alpha here. Beta always sucks off the alpha."

Donovan's face burned hotter than a spring break sunburn, the husky's rage rising as he pounced on his friend.

The two locked arms, their muscled bodies grinding against each other as they vied for dominance; their cocks rubbing and slapping together through their pre-cum soaked shorts.

"F...fuck you, dude!"

"No! Fuck you, bro!"

The two frat boys were locked in a dead heat, unable to break one another's grips as their bellies simultaneously let out deafening rumbles, freezing the frat boys in place.

"Bro!"

"DUDE!!"

The two slumped to the couch, laughing and socking each other in the arm like the idiots they were.

"Sorry, bro." Donovan said, rubbing his empty belly. "Bros shouldn't be fighting bros. I'm just hungry."

"Me too, dude." Joe said, reaching for his cellphone. "Let's handle this like...gentlemen, or some shit like that. I'll call up for some pizza, and the first person to down the driver like a real alpha pred gets his dick sucked by the other."

Donovan sat for a long minute, the rusty cog of his intuition and logic squeaking and wobbling as it was finally put to use after so many dormant years. "But bro, we've already scarfed like, 3 drivers from around here in the last 4 months, and your dad said he ain't gonna pay to make the cases go away again..."

"That's why we pay for a pizza from across town, dude. Offer the place $300 to get it over here, then, after we scarf down the bitch-ass driver, we call and complain that our pizza never showed up."

"Bro...that's fucking brilliant!"

"Damn right it is, dude. That's why I'm the alpha."

Donovan scowled, the husky bent, but showing a rare sliver of patience as his buddy called in the order.

An idiot smirk--as if they were capable of any other---crept across the frat boys' muzzles as the independent pizza shop an hour away hesitated, but eventually agreed to send a driver over with the order upon hearing of the generous payout.

The moment Joe hung up, Donovan was on him, pinning him to the couch as they locked paws again, playfully struggling to fight each other off.

"No homo, bro." Donovan said. "But you're gonna be sucking my dick while I belch up what's left of my squirming dinner tonight."

"In your dreams, dude. You'll be sucking my dick, just like you always do. Don't think I can't see your tiny little boner every time you're down there, feeling the bitch in my belly kick and squirm over your head while you blow me."

Donovan's face flushed again, shame washing over him harder than anger this time around as he looked the wolf in the eyes.

"Bro, we...we are still bro's though, right? Like, I'm not homo or anything, I just...I just really like helping my best bro out, and whatnot. You're important to me..."

Joe met Donovan's eyes, a small sparkle betwixt them like the most pure and beautiful drop of Code Red Mountain Dew ever seen. "Yah dude, no homo. We're cool."

Feeling the disgusting emotion of sincerity wash over them, the boys continued to fight and scramble like pups, their lust for each other growing in equal measure to their desire to be the victor with a full belly, and an epic blowjob to top it off.

---

Bianchi chuffed impatiently as the Esquire Towers' elevator seemed to *crawl* to the 76th floor. 2 hours in gridlock summer traffic had left the pear-shaped donkey in less than a stellar mood, and as his sweat soaked shirt and khakis clung far too tightly across his broad chest and child bearing hips, he realized all too late that the $100 tip wasn't enough to cover such a hassle so late at night.

"Rocco's pizza is good," he thought, stepping off the elevator and making his way down a hallway so modern, chic, and soulless, that only an investment broker could love it. "But it's not $300 good."

And while the donkey may have been right, the pizza--and an unruly customer or two--were more than good enough to turn his freshmen 15 into a solid freshman 50 over the past year as his tree-trunk thighs and carriage-width ass bore the brunt of his culinary indiscretion...well, that, and his boss. That same poor boss who found himself constantly having to replace the khakis that seemed to endlessly split at the seams from the sheer pressure of the burro's bulkage upon them.

Stopping at the correct apartment door for a moment to pull the ill-fitting polo down off his bulky pectorals to cover a peaking potbelly, Bianchi overheard the squawking and preening of "Fuck," "Fag," and "bitch" coming from the other side of the door, all telltale signs of Phoenix's most common, and insufferable, species.

"Frat Boys..." Bianchi groaned, pulling at the khakis that fought endlessly to wedge between his massive asscrack. "Great."

Bianchi knocked on the door, causing the bellowing of the dudebros inside to notch down to a loud, and still discernable "whisper" as they scrambled to get into place, eager to hide their machinations--which they would have been more successful at, were they not dense enough to think machination was a type of Italian dessert.

"C...come in," a voice cracked, like a nervous 1st grader poorly reciting Red Riding Hood on opening night with his dad's video camera rolling.

Bianchi rolled his eyes, the strangeness of the pizza order beginning to finally make sense.

"Uhm, it's your condo, sir."

Hushed whispers and a fist getting thrown could be heard through the door.

"Fucking idiot, you gotta let him in first. Move your butt, I'll do it, THEN we grab him..."

Bianchi sighed, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders to loosen up as the door opened to reveal a dopey-faced wolf bro, his eyes darting from the corner near the door back to the donkey.

It never ceased to amaze the donk just how dumb preds could be sometimes.

"That'll be $300, sir."

"Uhhh, I've got the money in the back over here."

Bianchi stood, unamused, staring at the wolf that was eyeing him up like a piece of meat. The two were roughly the same height, but the wolf was clearly eclipsed in mass and strength by a good 100lbs.

"I'm no expert here, sir." Bianchi said dryly, noticing the wolf's gaze glued to his massive hips. "But I believe you get the money, then I hand you the pizza."

"Oh, uhh, hehe, yah." The wolf stammered, catching himself watering at the mouth about 3 seconds past the deadline for subtlety. "Just, come in and set it down. I already paid like, $300 for it, and I'm starving."

"Me too," Bianchi said as he followed the wolf in, the empty pit in his stomach groaning as it was informed that it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Yah, I bet, dude. You look like you scarf some hardcore meals between gym sessions."

"Something like that," Bianchi said, his large ears picking up the heavy footsteps behind him.

With such a poorly laid trap, Bianchi almost felt bad for the poor idiots... "almost" being the operable word here.

Bracing himself, Bianchi kicked back, driving a hoof straight into the husky's breadbasket and doubling him over.

"The fuck?!"

Joe turned to see his friend crumpled and whimpering on the floor. The wolf sprang on the donkey like a gamer on a pack of Doritos, his jaws wide and snapping as the two locked arms.

"Fucking donkey piece of shit! I'm gonna make sure you digest nice and slow for that"

Bianchi smirked, letting his arms slacken to bring the wolf, and his gaping maw, closer.

"Does that adorable line actually scare anyone?" Bianchi said, chuckling as the wolf's anger peaked to a level that rivaled losing at beer pong to a girl.

Going slack, Bianchi let the wolf fall onto his chest before turning and driving himself against the hardwood wall of the condo, the donkey's substantial bulk crushing the well-built, but comparatively small, wolf under his bulk.

Prying his maw open like a crocodile attempting to down a VW bug, Bianchi contemplated a quippy line to see the wolf off from this world, but thought better of it.

Meat doesn't need to be spoken to, only consumed.

Bianchi engulfed Joe's head, locking him into the throbbing, undulating darkness of his gullet. Arms and legs flailed as the terrified wolf tried to fight off his attacker, but no amount of curls at the gym's squat rack could have helped him overpower the huge donkey that was crushing his wrists in place and sucking him down like a Japanese hot dog eating champion.

The wolf wasn't his only threat, and time was of the essence if he was going to get him locked away and stewing in his gut before brospeh over on the floor was back on his feet.

Bianchi's muzzle bore down on the wolf's toned and muscled body, his weight forcing Joe to his knees as he loudly schlucked and schlorped his thick, fleshy throat over his meal like a hungry snake. The sound of gulp after lurid, dripping gulp filled the apartment as Joe was crammed waist deep into the donkey's tight, pulsing gullet, his muzzle twisted and snarling in discomfort as he was jammed against the sphincter valve leading to the hungry delivery donk's stomach.

Bianchi moaned as he felt the wolf squeeze past the tight aperture and pour into his gut, that burning, empty feeling in his belly slowly fading as more of the wolf was packed into the tight, wet chamber that was no stranger to wriggling, screaming meals.

Like a starving seagull, Bianchi craned back, lifting the wolf above his head; the donkey taking heavy gulps as he worked the wolf out of his shorts and down into his quickly bloating gut. While admittedly very filling, the wolf tasted fowl, and Bianchi fought to keep from retching in light of the heavy flavor of Axe body spray on his tongue. The wolf was guaranteed to smell pretty fowl after tomorrow morning's ritual, but there was no need to add insult to injury with such a fragrance.

Bianchi wrapped his fat, meaty tongue over the soles of the wolf's footpaws--which were thankfully bereft of their usual white socks and sandals--and gulped hard, his already strained work shirt riding up to his thick pectorals like a Hooter's top as his gut sagged below his waist, bloated and heavy with the wriggling, terrified wolf.

"Fuck, that feels goooood." Bianchi groaned, his lips curling and cockhead pulsing hard against his strained khakis as he felt the pathetic form in his midsection mewl and howl for mercy. "Nothing but food now, wolf boy," he said with a smile, quickly unbuckling his work belt and allowing his gut to sag a few inches lower.

Lost in the moment, Bianchi reached under his wriggling gut, attempting in vain to reach his throbbing member; the writhing ball of wolf meat in his gut causing his fingers to be just out of reach of his needy donkhood.

"Wh...what the FUCK!"

Bianchi froze like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

'Idiot...you forgot about the other one!'

Trembling on hands and knees, Donovan looked on in shock, as if the Jersey Shore had just been canceled again.

With as much haste as the 200lb anchor of donkey chow in his tank would allow, Bianchi moved to meet the husky head on...only to see him scrambling towards the corner in horror at his advance.

Bianchi expected a fight from the muscle-bound bro, but the angels on high apparently saw fit to have granted him a gift: A dudebro, stripped clean of his social and physical ephemera. The heavenly gift of a needy, terrible, and terrified coward who would say anything and do anything to be accepted... to survive.

Such a wonderous gift, and it wasn't even his birthday.

Scrambling paws matched heavy hoofsteps as Bianchi closed the distance; the fat, wolf-engorged donkey feeling like a right predator on the hunt as he cornered the husky and pressed his massive gut to his muzzle, pinning him to the wall.

"Hear that? All that squelching, gurgling, and popping? That's your bro, breaking down in a dense slop of nutrient-rich chyme. He's not going to last much longer, so why not give him a goodbye kiss?"

Bianchi pressed his gut hard against the whimpering husky's face, his throat bulging with a thick belch that blew out, along with the slimy, partially digested wife beater that slapped hard and wet against the wall.

BUUURRRRRRRAAARRRRPPP

Donovan whimpered and groaned as the donkey's fat gut crushed around him, his muzzle being pelted and struck through the fat flesh by Joe, who now, completely robbed of his precious, stinking air, kicked and bucked in a last-ditch attempt to escape his destiny as assfat.

"Bye-bye, wolfy." Bianchi chuckled, giving his belly a hard squeeze that at first was met with resistance and a sharp howl, then crushed inward like balling up a mass of wet, partially digested clay. "See you tomorrow."

Reaching around his swollen, squelching belly, Bianchi tapped the husky on the side of the cheek, like a 1950's advertising mogul tapping his pretty secretary out of her hysteria.

"Unless you feel like joining him in there, pup, I suggest you take care of my rather pressing need."

Bianchi stepped back, hefting his ponderous belly to show off the hard cock underneath, the tip oozing pre-cum and soaking through his boxer briefs with the quickness.

"Work my fat load down your throat, and I promise I won't work you down mine."

The scent of the donkey's crotch struck Donovan on the nose, the overwhelming maleness of the musk forcing a whimper out of him.

"Now-now, don't go getting shy on me. I'm sure you, and whatever this future pipe clogger in my gut was called, have been blowing each other for years...well, most likely you blowing him, based on all that whimpering I keep hearing from you."

Donovan would have raged, were he not so busy being obediently terrified; and as he slid down the donkey's boxers to reveal the equine's thick member and grapefruit sized nuts, the husky couldn't help but shudder as the raw odor washed over him.

Sitting for hours in the summer heat didn't do Bianchi, or his damp clothes, any favors. But it seemed to be paying dividends to the husky as he eagerly swallowed the donkey's massive rod, his eyes and mouth watering from the joyous musk that poured off the nutsack slapping against his chin.

"Mmmm, this definitely isn't your first time."

Bianchi's eyes fluttered as the husky's muzzle stretched and slobbered to engulf his meaty length down to the base; the canine's needy tongue lapping at the underside of the donkey's shaft as it craved for every drop of that mineraled sweat that beaded down his bulbous, cum-swollen sack.

Between the hefty wad of wolf meat churning through his guts, and the whimpering bitch-boy strapped to his cock, Bianchi was worked up harder than a late 90's Dot-com bubble, and just as apt to burst.

And burst he did; the donkey's 3-day load pumping thick and musky down the gagging husky's throat. So voluminous, so corpulent was the donkey's abundant seed that it gushed from the canine's nose and slopped past his lips before splattering onto the floor like over-egged cake batter.

Trapped beneath the digesting remains of his best bud, Donovan could only gag and buck as his gut stretched and pooched with the donkey's rich semen, his chiseled abs bloating well into the third trimester 8 months ahead of schedule.

Sloppy in throat, and sanguine of face, Donovan slid off Bianchi's mucus-slathered rod before limply falling to his knees and hacking up gobs of spit and semen onto the floor.

"Damn, you're pretty fucking good at that," Bianchi said as he scratched at his drained, but still plump nutsack.

Digging a hoof into Donovan's side, Bianchi pushed the husky onto his back, the canine's sloshing belly like a pendulum as he went down.

Donovan groaned, clutching his gut as he spoke with raspy breaths. "O...OK, bro. The money is on the counter, just take it and go."

"Oh, don't worry, I will. Just need to tie up a loose end real quick."

Donovan's eyes went wide as he saw Bianchi stand over him, the donk's hands digging past bulging love handles and gripping his loose fit by design, skin tight in reality khakis as he began to peel them off down to his knees.

With a horror and reverence not known since furkind first witnessed a total solar eclipse, Donovan watched the donkey's impossibly large posterior blot out the ceiling lights, the canine's mouth agape as the jiggling, sweat-dripping cheeks descended on him.

"W...wait! B...Bro! You said you wouldn't eat me!"

"Meatheads like you never seem to listen," Bianchi said, grunting as he reached back and pried his blimpish asscheeks apart, the rotund mounds like jello filled beachballs as his paws sunk into them to reveal his gaping pucker. "I said you wouldn't go down my throat. I never promised you wouldn't get a full tour of my bowels."

Before Donovan could so much as scream, Bianchi rocked back and let gravity seal the husky's fate.

With a wet schluck and a meaty thud, Bianchi's gargantuan ass slammed onto the ground, the donkey stifling a modest bray as the husky's cum-slick snout lodged into his sweaty asshole. Bianchi ground his ass hard against the husky's face, his asscheeks like two lardaceous planets battling for orbit as he used Donovan's muzzle like a wet-nosed dildo to loosen his hungry hole for its upcoming meal.

The thrashing, kicking, screaming, and suffocating on ass blubber was equal parts horror to Donovan as they were an aphrodisiac to Bianchi. With a heavy moan, the greedy donkey relaxed his thick asshole, allowing the sheer mass of his ass to effortlessly coax the husky into his bowels like a greased-up suppository. Weak blows and panicked, scratching paws were deftly absorbed by the donkey's whalish cheeks, the terrified screams of his victim vibrating deep in his guts as his anus slithered down to the husky's chest.

To find oneself inside Bianchi's gut was no blessing, but a hearty belch or two guaranteed you'd be conked out before too much of your fur had sizzled off. For those crammed down his cock--and lucky enough to have drained him sufficiently beforehand so as not to drown in his sack--the sensation had been reported to be a somewhat euphoric experience of melting into viscous, bubbling taffy...But for one to be done in by the donkey's ass, the experience could be called nothing short of cruel.

The torment of being trapped inside the overwhelming sauna of the donkey's overcharged bowels...the agony of those slimy walls wrapping around you like a glove as they squeezed and tenderized your entombed body for hours in preparation for digestion...and the smell...well, that is best left unpondered, dear reader. Trust me.

Yet none of this was a concern for Bianchi as his gaping asshole wormed over the husky's cum-bloated midsection, because there was something very special about voracious frat boys. No matter what he did to them, he never felt bad.

The canine's thick, padded digits clenched and splayed as they were slowly enveloped like plump blueberries into Bianchi's plush, mewling pucker. The donkey's stretched asshole quickly tightened back to normal as it slithered over Donovan's toes, locking the whimpering mutt away with a winking goodbye...at least until tomorrow morning, when the two would say aloha one last time.

Bianchi moaned as his bowels were packed tighter than an award-winning turducken. Tasked to improvise a means of release with his former helper now thrashing in his guts, Bianchi pressed his distended, mush-filled gut down into his engorged member; the horny donk eagerly humping and grinding into the soft pile of digested wolf like a horny teenager who just discovered microwaved melon could replace his right paw on a lonely night.

Bianchi's tongue flopped over his thick equine lips as the husky in his bowels squirmed and bucked against his prostate, the panting donk in heavenly delight as his insatiable backside was finally getting the proper stretching it so rightly deserved.

Countless tops had tried, and failed, to properly fill him; and to find someone terrible enough to deserve the fate of being squeezed through hours of his oppressive, squalid bowels was a rarer than expected.

He wasn't going to spend one more second wondering how he got so damn lucky.

Bianchi's ass clenched hard as his orgasm built at the base of his grinding shaft, the crushing pressure inside his bowels clamping down on the husky like a hydraulic press as everything bore down to deliver another payload of virile donkey seed into the world.

Bianchi drove his rigid cock into his belly as his ass filled with something hot, wet, and sticky. His crushing ass, it would seem, had squeezed the thick load of cum out of the Donovan's belly like a tube of toothpaste, the husky forced to retch and splatter the orgasaming donkey's previous load all over the inside of his undulating bowels.

A piercing bray filled the room as Bianchi unloaded another torrent of donkey jizz. The fat, dripping ropes of seed coated the underside of his massive belly at the same time his ass gushed and slopped out the load of cum he had previously deposited into the husky.

"Jesus..." Bianchi sighed, remaining on all fours for a brief moment as his brain floated down from its gluttony-fueled trip to cloud 9. Panting, belly sagging to the floor, and dripping gooey seed from front to back, the donkey relished this squalid moment of having his insatiable hunger and sexual desire finally satiated, if only briefly.

Bianchi purred as he stood up on his wobbly hooves, the pathetic, useless writings of Donovan still present in his bowels.

"Mmmm, get comfy in there, husky. You've still got a couple of hours before you meet what's left of your friend."

Bianchi smiled as he lifted his khakis high enough up his thighs to get at his phone, delighted that canine plugging up his ass was going to be good for at least one or two extra orgasms later that night once he got home.

Hobbling over to the table as he dialed up his workplace, Bianchi deftly picked up the cash from the table as he socketed his Bluetooth receiver into his large, pointed ear.

"Hey, yah, its Bianchi." He said to the voice on the other end of the line. "Put the boss on."

Like a pregnant woman carrying quintuplets, Bianchi grunted and groaned as he began the monstrous task of hiking his stretchy khakis back over his freakishly large ass and thighs, the fabric creaking and groaning for mercy as his doughy fat kept spilling out just as quickly as it was crammed back in the pant legs.

"Hey, it's Bianchi, I.... yah.... yah...yes, you were right, it was a setup."

Bianchi bit his lip as Donovan's squirming picked up, the donkey trying like hell to stifle his pleasured moans as he continued on the phone.

"Well, yah, of course I did! What, was I NOT supposed to eat them? No...no, there was no way I could have just run away, Richie! They had me cornered!"

Sucking in his gut, Bianchi yanked on his pants like his life depended on it, his slick, blubbery cheeks slipping into the seat of his pants and stretching the fabric like he was smuggling two 40-pound hams.

"No, I get that...And no, I DON'T need new uniforms, Richie. It's fine."

Bianchi let out a heavy sigh, his gut sagging heavy over his unbuttoned pants and his ass bloating to absurd proportions as he breathed out. The sudden onslaught of suety flesh caused the seat of his pants to blow out and tear down the middle, spilling part of his thick ass out of the ripped seams like freshly kneaded dough.

"Uhhh, on second thought, Richie...I'm gonna need a whole new wardrobe."

Bianchi winced as the howling of his boss reached a pitch that would make the Broadway lead in "Tosca" blush with envy.

"OK. OK, the extra 100 bucks is yours, Richie. Do you want me to deliver it toni...what!? No, I'm not gonna clog your toil.... Jesus, man! I only did it ONE time!"

Tugging to bring his collared shirt off his chest in vain, Bianchi made his way to the door; his gut and thick pecs keeping it in a permanent state of crop-top. Though to be fair, he rather enjoyed the look. His warm, roiling belly was thoroughly cooled being so exposed, and he felt rather proud displaying his meaty gut, and the contents within, like a trophy to the world.

"OK, OK. I'll just head home. Thanks Richie, I'll see you tomorrow...What? My size? Uhhh, no, not anymore. You'll probably want to add at least 2 more X's to that shirt size..."

Bianchi groped his huge ass and patted his stomach as he made for the hallway, the subtle vibrations of Donovan still humming along inside him.

"Come on, pup. Let's get you home and have some fun while we can. Trust me, we'll want to do this tonight, because you're gonna feel a lot shittier in the morning."

Bianchi paused, catching the door before it slammed shut behind him. Waddling as fast as his double-stuffed frame would allow, he hustled into the apartment and snatched up the two XL pizzas sitting on the counter.

The customers weren't in any shape to be getting anything out of them...at least not anymore. And there were still 76 floors between here and the street; the big donk just might get hungry again on the way down, and there's always space for more pizza...

-End.