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Petrocolus' Opportunity

Kits knocked on the door to the modest adobe house. Considering the way Petro carried on, Kits had assumed the residence would be palatial. Then again, maybe it was: bulls didn't live in packs and frankly Kits was still fuzzy on how much living space a single person needed. Plus, in the tigrine lands of Rao the thick adobe walls provided protection from the heat. Either way, the wolf was certain he had the wrong address until the deep lowing voice of the bull echoed through the door.

"It's unlocked."

Kits stepped in, looking around and sniffing the air. The place was definitely nicer on the inside. The room was big enough for maybe five people the size of him of Petrocolus, but every object inside screamed quality in the quietest voice it could. The furniture, rugs, and wall tapestries all carried the symbol of Petro's family and were clearly custom-made. All the fabric was plush enough Kits felt himself sink slightly into the carpet.

Sitting on the couch was Petro himself, looking even more smug than usual. The muscular bull was naked from the waist up, sweat sheeted over his muscular, brick-red hide. He grinned lazily at the wolf, reaching down to scratch his crotch. Kits wasn't sure whether the shorts were normal clothing or underwear, but either way they left nothing hidden. They were stretched tight over the bovine's muscular legs and massive balls, and Petro's copious, musky sweat had plastered the the thin fabric skin-tight. The entire place reeked of healthy, dominant adult male aurochs, with the barest hint of some recent fox sweat and semen beneath it. Petro grinned and waved Kits towards a seat.

Petro's smile widened a bit at how grimly and formally Kits sat. The wolf smelled power, sex, and dominance, and was on edge as a result, much to Petrocolus's amusement. He and Kits had a lot in common, which was good. If Petro understood him, then Petro could manipulate him. If Petro could manipulate him, then Petro could beat him. And it was a very short step from being beaten to being dominated.

Kits was worth dominating, too. It's not that Petro was indiscriminate (though he was), but that he appreciated the challenge. His cock hadn't dried from Taskei yet, but Taskei had never been a real challenge. A rough fuck, a couple grunted commands, and Taskei was just another collared trophy on his endlessly growing list. Kits, on the other hand, was dangerous. A head taller than the bull, just as muscular, and always ready to fight, the wolf would make far more...resilient prey. It would be a far better hunt; it would take strategy and skill to wear down and break a real male, not just...

Petro realized he had been the cause of an awkward silence while he had been lost in gleeful coup-counting. He glanced idly at the wolf, careful to hide the hungry gleam in his eye.

Kits was still sitting patiently, the comically-tiny textbooks on his lap. The heat was getting to him too: dark streaks of sweat variegated his shaggy, silvery pelt, and his own dominant aroma warred in the air with Petro's. Unlike the bull, Kits was unprepared for the heat. His heavyset, thick-furred lupine body struggled with the temperature, buried under jeans and a leather vest. Something about watching the canine sweat excited Petro; he imagined Kits' heavy sheath cramped up in a sweaty, awkward position, grinding against denim as it slowly swelled. With a soft snort Petro realized he could sate his curiosity, ease his guest, and make his opening gambit all in one move.

"So, ready to learn, Kits?"

The wolf nodded, replying slowly in heavily-accented Rao: "Aurochs is the one language I know least in."

Petro stretched back, relaxing his arms and taking up space to show off his size and musculature. "Well, if you want to speak like a bull you should dress like a bull. How about you get rid of that vest for starters? I know it must be miserably hot."

Kits nodded, pausing for a bit. Petro wondered if his Rao had been too complex for the wolf when he was rewarded with Kits shedding his thick leather vest, clearly relieved.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"There's more though I bet those jeans are real uncomfortable too. How about you toss 'em? They're made for cold climates anyways."

Kits paused, laying his ears back a bit and blushing. "I have no...covering there."

Petro stifled a snort of excitement. "It's fine! Bulls of the same household are naked around each other all the time. Like I said, dress like a bull, talk like a bull." Neither Kits nor Petro mentioned that it was something they had both seen of each other in the locker room dozens of times. To Kits this was on another's territory, the rules were different. To Petro, this time he was actually looking.

Kits nodded and slowly unzipped his fly, popping the button. Petro watched as dark grey, plump, sweaty wolf sheath spilled out, free of its cramped denim prison. It swelled a bit at the stimulation the sudden changes in temperature and pressure provided, and Petro eyed it curiously. He had dealt with fox penises before, the short, thick, knotty things they were. Were wolves' any different? Looking at the pendulous sheath, and balls that would be respectable on a bull, Petro decided that wolves were certainly larger, if nothing else.

It was Kits' turn to smile. Petro's balls were amazing, huge and plump even through the fabric, and the wolf was pretty proud to stand (or at least swing) toe-to-toe with a pair that wasn't dismissed out of hand.

"Enjoying of the view?" He teased his staring bovine compatriot.

Petro coughed and blushed a little in reply. "Just curious. We're shaped really differently." trying to recover, he threw in a small jab. "I always thought canines were smaller."

On the inside his blood sang with testosterone even as he flushed at being caught staring. Finally, a male that stood up to him! He had underestimated Kits, and that just excited him more. He felt his own sheath swelling in response, his pink tip sliding loose as his desire to fight and fuck rose within him. Kits winked dryly.

"Foxes are not wolves. Wolves are large, foxes not."

Petro smiled. "This is true. I should have kept the one I met at the bar here to keep us entertained. Then again he was a little worse for wear after I was done with him, and I'm not as thick as you. I bet you would've wrecked him past the point of being fun."

Kits grinned predatorily, his sheath swelling and a dark pink tip exposing itself as his train of thought became obvious. "It is hard to 'wreck' a mouth...or a hand..."

Petro nodded, quirking an eyebrow playfully. "I think between us we could wreck many things, Kits. Perhaps I could show you later?"

Kits nodded vigorously, his teeth bared in excited hunger. Petro chuckled internally. Just like him, all the same weaknesses. He hoped the wolf had enough self-knowledge that he would not fall on the first feint, it'd be disappointing to say the least. "For now let's crack a textbook and start you in on some basic info. Genders are what screw foreigners up the most." Petro stood up and sat down beside the big silvery beast, breathing the spicy odor of a healthy adult male wolf. He snorted softly at the scent, part primal fear at a meat-eater, part irrational, territorial fury at a male in his domain, and entirely in arousal.

Kits stood firm and still as the muscular red bull sat beside him, evening out the couch made lopsided by its original lupine occupant. He inhaled deeply of his host's scent, a much purer source than the rarefied territorial musk that permeated the place. The bull was close, hot, powerful, and vigorous. Every motion, sound, and scent reinforced that this was a bull in his prime. Kits was a predator; he instinctively knew that this was not the herbivore to fuck with. Of course, being Kits, this meant he wanted to fuck and fuck with the magnificent beast next to him all the more.

"Aurochs has five genders. I know that's hard for wolves to follow, you guys have...one? Two? Anyways, the genders determine pretty much every other aspect of the language. Verb conjugations, noun endings, even etiquette. We have male and female just like deer, but then we have 3 more. Neuter, Possibly Male, and Not-Male."

Kits tilted his head. "Seems to matter a lot being a man."

"Yeah, unlike every other race, our men *earn* their manhood. Deer get antlers and suddenly it's "Big Brother" this and "Father" that. Foxes and wolves get the title when they suddenly smell adult. Us bulls? We fight and bleed to become men." Petro's eyes glowed with zeal, his breath quickening and his sheath throbbing with passion gleaned from memories. Kits said nothing. He was foreign, not stupid.

Petro shook himself loose from his memories, being in the bloody ring of sand, looming over his opponent in victory, the branding, the wives, the slaves. He felt oddly homesick for a moment. It was strange that being so near a wolf was what made him feel most like he was home, around other males who'd battled and bled to be called as such. It was an odd mixture of pleasure and regret when he explained to Kits his status.

"You're a Possibly-Male. You'd be eligible for Testing, and if you succeeded you'd be a Male."

Kits' ears pricked. "If I fail?"

Petro coughed. Lust was making him stupid. Kits was a foreigner. Unlike everywhere nearby, where it was an open secret, Kits didn't know. Traditionally, Aurochs didn't speak about their holy rites to foreigners, especially when said rites were in violation of several treaties. Then again wolves had been forced to give up slavery after the Great War, so perhaps they had enough in common. Petro muttered the answer quick and low to his lupine student.

"You'd be killed in the ring, or gelded and made into a slave for the man who beat you."

Petro expected shock to register on the wolf's face, maybe disgust. The fact that Kits seemed unfazed bothered him a bit. What had the wolf experienced that made something universally despised (outside of Aurochs lands, of course) not even register? The wolf tilted his head.

"Is that the Neuter gender?"

Petro did his best to fight nonchalance with nonchalance.

"No, Not-Male. Neuter is for things that didn't ever have a chance to be male. Not-Male is for those that might have been but have proven not. Usually."

"Usually?"

"Well, foxes and gazelle are Not-Males until proven otherwise."

"That seems...racial? Is that the word? No, racist. That seems racist."

"Have *you* ever met a powerful, aggressive fox?"

Kits decided he didn't want Petro knowing the extent of his connections and shook his head.

"Exactly. And I mean, they take to being gelded like nothing happened at all." Petro clapped his heavy hands together, a thumping boom carrying surprisingly well through the adobe house.

The figure that answered the summons had the lithe athletic grace and buff coat color of a gazelle. As he stepped out of the shadows his features became clearer. A muscular but graceful neck led down a lean and elegant body, muscles delineated by simple virtue of having no fat at all. His pale front and contrasting black side-stripes gleamed in the low light of the room, so distracting that Kits took a moment to notice the other reflective portions of his body: a collar with Petro's family crest, silver-etched horns several earrings, a nose ring, and a captive hoop through the eyebrow. House Tipocidion liked its servants and its savings accounts to be partially based around precious metals, clearly. A well-trimmed goatee and equally-short breechcloth were the only other adornments to his form.

The gazelle knelt before Petro, looking downwards demurely, though given his height above him Kits could clearly see his tail flagged upwards and twitching in nervousness. Petro leered at his servant, savoring his fear, before glancing at Kits and grinning.

"See? They take to it like it's their natural state. Which it is, or at least should be." He turned to his servitor "Our guest looks hot. Fetch us some refreshments." Without a word the gazelle bounded off into the kitchen. Petro leaned back in, cracking open the book and turning to a page partway in.

"Anyways, even though there's five genders, you only need to be really familiar with three as a foreigner: Neuter, Male, and Possibly Male. I can only think of about a dozen words that use Female or Not-Male, and you can just rote memorize those. Aha! Here's the list. Just memorize these so we can skip past them and I can teach you a system that's actually consistent."

Kits nodded and accepted the book, brow furrowing as he bent himself to his task. Petro rose, walking into the kitchen to see to his slave Khelsam's work. The gazelle was quietly finishing up a pair of bowls of shaved ice doused in liquor, and looked up at his master expectantly. In private, away from the outsider's eyes, the gazelle had earned far more freedom than a proper slave would normally have. Petro snorted approvingly at his servant's gambit before pawing a bit at the floor with a bout of nerves and self-loathing. He had gotten soft. He was shaking in anticipation like some calf fresh into the ring; he'd been hunting easy quarry too long. When faced with a male that might put up a fight, even a stupid, naïve oaf that Petro could think circles around, he was suddenly resorting to liquor and patience. What was he, a fox? He had hidden too long already; the only solution was to go out there and get that wolf whimpering and raising tail right this instant. With a firm, commanding glance at his slave he stepped out and took his seat besides Kits.

"Honors to your Herd, Sir. How being you?" It hadn't take Kits long to get impatient and read ahead.

"My wives and fields prosper, Unproved One. How are you?" Khelsam entered with the confections, placing them on the table and kneeling before them again. Kits blushed and fumbled for an answer.

"Niceness...?" Petro smiled with as little condescension as he could.

"I think you're looking for 'Good', it's got that vowel trio for a reason, pronounce all three. Also, have something to cool off."

Khelsam handed Kits one of the bowls, then the other to Petro. Petro bit into his mix of ice and liqueur with relish, knowing the one Kits had been handed was several chemicals stronger. Though given this most recent example of poor reading comprehension this whole attack plan was starting to seem superfluous. He nodded at the gazelle, who gracefully slid over and placed his head into Kits's lap. The silvery lupine froze as Petro's slave gently nosed his heavy, sweaty balls, eyes closed and mouth open to savor the scent of wolf. Kits looked at Petro nervously, making Petro crack a broad grin.

"A good bull is a good host. While you may not be a man in my people's eyes, it's obvious that you have...needs. My slave has quite a bit of experience tending to them. I can tell you'd be far more relaxed and able to learn if you-" Petro stopped, grinning. Kits wasn't listening to him right now.

Instead the wolf had a horn of Khelsam's gripped firmly as he slowly ground his sweat-stained, musky sheath against the gazelle's face, both of them moaning. Petro leaned back, adjusting himself before snorting once, deeply and commandingly. Without even having to turn his head, Khelsam's hands slid over to begin massaging his owner's prolific testicles and ample sheath, his moans muffled by his face being buried in wolf junk. Petro intended to have Kits choking on his cock by the end of the night, but it would be obscene to not have his own slave at least paying token service to his maleness.

Kits snarled softly, feeling a little dizzy, likely from the wonderful feeling of a soft, warm tongue lapping respectfully against his sheath as it filled out. This gazelle had indeed been trained exceptionally well, though his long, narrow licks betrayed that most of his experience was with bovine dicks. No matter. The wolf snarled softly, eyes shut, gripping Khelsam's horns in both hands. He would educate the lithe little herbivore until that beard was spiked with semen a dozen times over. As the next lick neared his tip he suddenly steered his loaned slave down hard onto his half-erection.

Khelsam whined softly in surprise as he felt his mouth impaled on the thick lupine cock, his jaw stretching to accommodate a far thicker manhood than he was used to. He tasted salt, sweat, and the terrifying tang of a predator, an instinctual fear of a hunter far more simple and brutish than his master surging through his body. It wasn't the same as Petrocolus was now, but it was far too similar to how Petrocolus was the first time, when he had been caught. His back arched and his rump lifted in fearful submission, his hands massaging the heavy grenades of his master with renewed fervor. The warm, pliable skin and the huge orbs within stirred at his nervous touch, making his master grunt in desire.

Petro chuckled."You sure got my slave respecting you in no time. You do this often?"

Petro rested his hands behind his head, one of Khelsam's hands sliding up past his testicles to respectfully grip the hard bovine shaft that had erupted from the ball massage. The subservient gazelle began slowly jacking the man that had enslaved him, the bull's copious fluids making an already-familiar job nearly effortless. The dark red hide rippled slightly as Petro began lazily thrusting into his slave's hand, hips rocking with easy, powerful motions against the tight ring Khelsam provided.

"Sometimes. You?" Lust or unfamiliarity kept the words short and simple.

Kits snarled and looked skywards as he too began thrusting, his painfully-hard wolfhood begging to be forced down Khelsam's throat. The gazelle beneath him was gasping and grunting as each fresh piston of the metallic wolf's hips filled his mouth and stopped his breath. The slave wriggled in excited lust, tail flagged up high out of primal fear of a predator, and respectful habit for his master. Kits licked his chops curiously. Which end would feel better? Especially sitting down, since the room seemed a bit unsteady now.

"Only when I can't convince a fresh slut to come home from the bar with me. Khelsam's my plan B." The crimson bull grunted.

Petro snuck a look at his prey. The wolf was quite attractive, even drugged, horny, and stupid. *Especially* drugged, horny, and stupid. The brute was panting now, tongue lolled out, thrusting flawlessly but reeling from one side to the other. Khelsam rocked in time with him, eyes squeezed shut in lust and concentration, his pale face darkened by sloppy layers of wolf pre. It took his name being spoken to make him immediately snap to attention, though he could do little more than keep eye contact as his horns were used to drag him up and down the thick, salty wolfcock he was held to.

"Hey Kits, how about we lay him out so we can share him. Which end do you want?"

The wolf turned drunkenly, slobbering a bit in lust and a bit in inebriation. His eyes didn't quite focus as he parsed the question and then thought on it. With an animal snarl (or perhaps a spoken command in his native tongue, it all sounded the same to Petro) he tugged Khelsam onto the couch, sloppily mashing Khelsam's face into Petro's erection. Khelsam obediently went about worshiping the cock in front of him, all the men in the building of equal caliber to him at this point. Petro paused to moan long and low as the hot muzzle of his slave, already made slick by thick wolf pre, wrapped around his own painful erection. Khelsam's rump was up and presented, tail lifted invitingly: the gazelle had forgotten he was wearing anything at all, clothing an item for modesty his master rarely required. Kits stared at it a moment before sliding it off roughly, making Khelsam squeal a little in anticipation and fear. Petro idly gripped his slave's horn as Kits slid in close, curious.

Kits pressed his nose to Khelsam's taint, sniffing curiously as his wet nose brushed the scars Petro had left when he had gelded Khelsam. Then he nosed up further underneath the slave and between his legs, curious at the erection. The big wolf slobbered curiously at the bovid's crotch, his tongue so large compared to the slave that Khelsam felt his entire cock, sheath, and inner thighs basted in drugged wolf saliva from a single curious lick.

"If they're gelded after adulthood they retain a lot of male traits, like the beard." Petro doubted Kits would remember that information in the morning, but the dopey canine looked so bumpkinish that the bull felt the need to educate him.

Kits nodded and pulled back up, pressing his slimy cock down so that its angle matched the eagerly-offered rump of the slave and pressed against the tight ring. Khelsam moaned softly around the cock inflating his throat in pain. His master was much more tapered than this rough beast, and he had too-eagerly sucked the thick wolf pre off the rod boring into him now. The combination left him unprepared and painfully stretched, making him clamp down in fear. Kits snarled and simply redoubled his sloppy efforts to mate with the graceful herbivore beneath him. Brute force quickly won out over care or grace and Khelsam threw his head back in a moan as far too many inches of girthy, veiny wolf dick jammed themselves into him.

Petro grunted in annoyance, disciplining his slave with a hard yank back down onto his cock. Khelsam obeyed, looking up apologetically as Kits began plowing the poor slave, whatever coordination in lovemaking he had washed out by the roofies he had been slipped. Instead all that was left was a wolf bone sized to compete with Petro's package, and several hundred pounds of enthusiastically lusty wolf. The gazelle moaned and wriggled as his prostate was mashed, the most effective way of getting him off, and one only bulls had ever given him before. Khelsam gulped hungrily at the dripping, slimy cock in front of him, the exotic pleasure at receiving it from both ends driving him wild as his ass was pounded into the sofa.

The grey wolf had worse and worse posture the longer he fucked, forcing Khelsam down and with him the only thing propping the wolf up. Soon Khelsam was flat on the couch, moaning and whimpering with each slimy new thrust into his guts, a huge shaggy pile of muscle and lust bonelessly atop him. The only motion from either was the erratic but brutal pounding the wolf doled out, balls slapping juicily against where Khelsam's were missing. Petro yanked the gazelle's face on and off his cock with calm practice, staying hard and eager, but not letting himself get too close to orgasm. That he was reserving for the wolf's face.

Kits snarled in frustration. He could *feel* his orgasm, off in the distance, not getting any closer the longer and harder he pounded the eagerly-offered ass beneath him. He could feel the burning in his balls, that wonderful ache of release, just out of reach. Like a nightmare, no matter how wildly he galumphed down the corridor towards his goal, it never became any closer.

"Having trouble finishing?' Petro loomed over his guest, a broad, mocking grin on his face as his own slimy pizzle swayed in front of the wolf.

"Shut up." the wolf drunkenly slurred, followed by more detailed commentary in his native tongue. The entire time he continued reaming Khelsam, the lithe slave whimpering and squeaking tiredly beneath him.

Petro gripped his aching, eager cock, and firmly scraped it clean of all his accumulated pre, rubbing his first two fingers slick with the accumulated fluids of his slave's mouth and his potent balls. He immediately set about renewing his supply by gripping Khelsam's face and ramming his cock back down his throat. He also leaned in with his slickened fingers to grope the wolf's ass. He savored the feel of spring-taut muscle flexing with each thrust into his slave between them, the nervous fluff of fur as some dim understanding flared in the wolf's eyes. He grinned as he felt Kits snarl and clamp his tail down against the invading digits, too drugged or busy to bring anything else into play. The wolf's asshole was hot and squeezed shut tighter than a fox's, resisting the bull's attempt to take advantage of him.

Of course, Petrocolus of Tipocidion, fucking successful dom bull, had never been stopped by lack of consent before, and just because his target was bigger and meaner than his usual fare was hardly something to give the bull pause. That was the entire reason he was targeting the wolf! With a soft grunt of exertion and a well-lubed twist from years of practice, Petro wormed two digits up under his quarry's tail, sliding deep and stretching him roughly.

Kits bayed loud and low, too drunk to even yelp without slurring, and leapt forwards in shock. Khelsam yelped in surprise as the wolf's throbbing meat was suddenly much deeper than moments before. Like some obscene Newton's Cradle, Khelsam was silenced as Petro's cock was forced painfully down his throat, burying the gazelle's face in the sparse, fragrant pubic fur of his master. Petro, completing the circuit, thrust forward with his hips, bellowing in lust as his dick pulsed thick ropes of his bovine cum down Khelsam's throat. Khelsam whimpered: the salty, gelid seed of his master was a hot salve on his bruised throat and sore jaw. Petro's bellow of lust turned into a roar of frustration halfway through. That was supposed to be on and in that damned wolf!

The huge paw wrapped around his throat as Petro raged internally.

"Take that..." the wolf moaned, whether from drugs or the violated rump Petro couldn't tell. "...take 'em out!"

Kits was in no position to be making demands. If he were any more doped up he'd be prepped for surgery, and Petro was pretty sure in an even match he could beat the wolf.

"You like that, don't you? A real man inside you, making you-hgrk."

This wasn't an even match, however. The wolf had two hands to his one, and the bull was in an awkward position, tired after his orgasm. Also, the wolf's grip was tightening rapidly. Petro grudgingly pulled out of the wolf, ears burning as his throat was released. He was justifiably angry with himself, he had screwed up terribly, first going too slow and then too fast. He had let his balls plan the attack rather than plant the flag of his victory, and he should have known better.

But Kits? He *hated* Kits right now. He wanted to swing his horns and split the wolf open like an overripe melon. He wanted to tie the son of a bitch up, suspend him from the ceiling, and saw off his balls. He wanted the bastard broken, blubbering, a pretty little gelded slave like Khelsam except a hundred times more submissive and abused. It took all of his willpower to speak calmly.

"I was just checking. You're everything my client is looking for." Petro lied smoothly.

"Whuh?" Kits quirked his head, clearly not a threat to anyone's intellectual superiority.

Petro smiled, keeping the gritting of his teeth quiet. "Well, I find you attractive, hence the invitation, but the way you rode Khelsam convinced me you'd make a great dom for pay. I did it for this one guy a couple times for a lark. He's never been able to replace me with a satisfying dom, but I bet you'd do a great job at it." All true, and all plausibly deniable. "I know you can always use more cash, right?'

Kits nodded...slowly. He was starting to sober up.

"How about I give you his address later? For now, you probably want to finish up."

The wolf nodded. His cock ached for release, and as much as he hated to admit it, those thick bovine fingers had known where to push. He snarled and gave another rough thrust into Khelsam, the gazelle's moan silenced by Petro's cock. The bull grunted in a mixture of pleasure and disgust, before brightening as he realized the perfect punishment for Khelsam.

"Hey Kits. There room for another in there?"

"In Khelsam?"

The bull snorted lewdly. "Yeah. I did promise to help you wreck something earlier tonight. I think I know what now."

Khelsam whimpered in fear, eyes shut as his master's cock was slowly pulled from his lips. He didn't struggle as Kits rolled onto his back, reaching down to spread his graceful legs. Petro got atop him, the heavy weight of such a muscular bull mashing him down into the equally-muscular wolf beneath him. He was pressed hard between two sweaty, horny, aggressive males who each had something to prove. He moaned softly as the wolf wriggled a bit within him, making room for his master's rehardened length.

Petro moved in between his slave's legs, lining up his cock and pressing in with as much delicacy as a man hammering railroad spikes. Like so many times before, he would pour out his fury into his gelded gazelle bitch. This time though, he pressed his muzzle against Kits's and kissed him passionately. The bull hated the wolf and wanted him all the more for it. He wanted to feel that grey-furred body quivering under him, wrecked and pathetic and mewling for more. Every thrust he drove brutally into his slave was one he dreamed of ramming down that wolf's helpless throat. Khelsam squished and moaned submissively as he was reamed by two cocks too large for him. Petro imagined Kits making that sound, defanged and declawed and deballed, yet another trophy for the bull.

Kits returned the kiss eagerly, his slobbery tongue grinding against Petro's broad one. The bull was after him in some way, he wasn't sure how, but it thrilled him. He reamed in tandem with the bull, pulse racing from adrenaline and desire. Steven didn't deign to fight, to prove himself. Petro wanted to dominate the wolf, to beat him down and show himself the more powerful male. Kits knew in his bones getting involved was a terrible idea, but his balls ached with the excitement of challenging another male. This was what he lived for, why he couldn't live comfortably as a respected gamma in some pack: he needed competition, and the raw buzz of victory, dominance, and sex that it brought.

Khelsam wasn't there. His body was certainly being plowed by two vicious, hung guys in a dick-measuring contest, but to them he was nothing more than a fleshy sex toy to be fucked raw and discarded, and he loved it. These were virile, dominant males, and no matter how much it hurt as those veiny, drippy rods pistoned inside him, it felt even better to be the wastebasket for their semen. In their minds they were fucking each other, but their balls would empty into him.

Petro panted and mooed, his hands groping the muscular wolf all over: feeling those hefty balls, the surging muscles in the legs. His own balls ached for a chance to empty themselves again, driven to boastful fullness by the wolf beneath him. The thick musk of the aroused wolf was grinding onto his slave, taunting him with a challenge just by existing. Petro felt his balls drawing up, reaffirming his control by filling his bitch with the physical emblem of his virility. He groaned and grunted, sweating in the strain of venting every last bit of rage into Khelsam.

Kits groomed Petro's neck, perversely affectionate. The salty taste of a dominant male burned on his tongue, reminding him he was the interloper, the challenger. He felt those stubby fingers that had been inside him roaming all over his body, cupping his balls and pawing at his knot still in his sheath. He snarled and whined in excitement, slowly, painfully feeling his body overcome whatever the barrier to orgasm had been. His knot slid loose and he heard Khelsam cry out in fear and Petro snort in surprise. Neither had touched many canine dicks.

Khelsam felt that...fist of hot meat battering at his body and tried vainly to relax. That thick wolf rod was going to be inside him! He wriggled helplessly as it felt like a heated softball was forced into his ass. His cry of pain as it forced him open and slid in was suddenly replaced by a whine of release as his prostate was beaten into surrender. His tiny, sterile orgasm was easily dwarfed just by the sweat these guys were putting out, but he felt his body spasming reflexively anyways. His minimal ejaculation was almost immediately lost in the soupy, musky haze of fluids and scents the two jocks sandwiching him had produced.

Kits arched his back as he roared and came hard, gripping Khelsam roughly. He was knotted in and couldn't move himself, but Petro's (tightly squeezed) cock was still thrusting into his slave, and that caused more stimulation than Kits had ever felt. He yelped and shook as load after load of his searing cum spurted into the gazelle.

Petro suddenly felt his tight little slave turn into a vice, and the hot, tight crevice suddenly turn goopy with wolf semen. He bellowed in perverse lust, imagining all that wolf spunk his cock was bathing in. It made him furious and aroused all at once, and he eagerly dove into his own orgasm to fill *his* slave with *his* semen. He flexed and pulsed as he came, trying to milk himself of every drop of semen, filling his slave with a slurry of wolf and bull DNA that would lay testament to his superiority.

Khelsam whimpered as he felt his innards ballooning with the soupy, slimy jizz of the two men. The wad of flesh at the base of Kits's cock had sealed him closed. He had spilled a drop yet. He writhed a little in discomfort. The feeling was only worse when both men, satisfied with their conquest, relaxed and lay there, smooshing Khelsam even worse than before. Slowly, he heard the wolf, and then the bull begin to snore. He was trapped here, filled with the spunk of two furious, dominating males. He allowed himself a soft squeal of pain before he began planning tomorrow.

His master would certainly want breakfast, as would his guest. They might also want a repeat of tonight. And he should write the contact information for the man who paid to be dommed...Shiro was it? His master also had an afternoon class, so he should have lunch ready at noon sharp...

Khelsam had been broken in quite well, but then, Petrocolus always knew what he was doing.