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Hehhey, guess what,

it's BOBB time!

Yes, this is just a little something and it's not part of the main continuity, but I felt like writing something about these two Dobies, and who doesn't like some hot and heavy military doggie action?

If you haven't met Jack and Brock before, check out:

http://www.sofurry.com/view/197782

Hope you enjoy the read, don't forget to comment, vote or fave!

Cheers!

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Fucking Brock Stahlman.

Thanks to that particular Dobie grunt, now that I'm back in my bunk and trying to sleep amidst the sound of guys snoring and farting and grunting in their dreams, I've got a sore tail and a serious feeling about never being able to drink Coca Cola from a bottle again without thinking about it.

Figures.

Should've always known that going queer for that shit-eating grinning heap of muscle and bad habits was never going to do any good for me. I should've known that when he asked me around the storage barracks to "check up on something he'd been working on with the sergeant", I should've told him to fuck off and stop coming up with these plans to get his cock rammed balls deep into my almost constantly sore ass. How'd I explain that to the other guys in my platoon, why isn't private Griggs up to full speed today? Well try running an obstacle course with the memory of a goddamn huge prick stuffed into your ass and then we'll see who's a real touch fucker in this whole fucking Fort Chipmunk.

Brock knew.

That fucking Dobie knew that even though I pretended that I didn't really much care for the whole business, I had a gigantic boner in my pants by the time I slipped away from the rest and relaxation time in the entertainment barracks and walked the gravel path to the ugly grey corrugated steel hut that served as a sort of a workshop for the base. It was about fifty yards away from the nearest building, and still pretty solid building, meaning that its walls would block out most of the noise.

My tongue was practically hanging out of my muzzle as I took a few jogging steps in my approach to the green wooden door, with flaking paint and a padlock hanging off from a chain slung to a hook. The door was obviously unlocked, it never was locked, in case someone had to get in to grab a spare something for the base jeeps or something, and everyone knew that the sergeants took the jeeps out AWOL to go and bang girls in the nearby town, pretending to be on an official messaging business.

It felt even hotter in there, in the small steel-walled building, and I really began to pant. My fucking shirt was soon glued to my back as I walked between shelves. My pants ached.

"Yo, anyone here?" I called out, just in case, casually so that anyone could answer it with equal carefree tone.

No sounds. My ears flopped from side to side and tried to pick up any sounds that might signify the presence of one particular Dobie in the shelter. I wouldn't have put it past him to do something like hiding behind a shelf and jumping on me with the intention of humping my ass raw. That'd suit him well, probably, and I would have complained, probably, until the rough, dark, smelly Dobie on top of me would've made me stop and beg for it instead.

I rubbed my crotch with my sweaty paw and hoped that whatever Brock had in mind, it involved some sort of queer play. I was sorely in need of taking care of some business of that kind, and I knew that Brock Stahlman would never miss an opportunity to play around with his favorite grunt, who, for whatever reason I could think of, just happened to be.

"Uhh...Brock?" I called out, with the sound echoing off the walls and back into my ears, making them drop.

No answer.

Shit.

I reached the door on the other end of the room and pushed it open, keeping my senses open for any kind of signs of Brock in there. I drew a deep breath but smelled motor oil, steel and myself, sweat and spunk mostly, and I listened but I only heard my own breaths, rasping through my muzzle.

It was even darker in the other room, the one where they had the work benches. Even in the dim light, I saw the shape of the partially disassembled jeep engine standing on one of the worn wooden workbenches, surrounded by small oil cans and rags that glowed a ghostly dark in my eyes that were slowly starting to get used to the darkness. My footpaws were making an oddly loud sound on the bare concrete floor.

"Brock?" I grunted, frustrated with this kind of gamey behavior.

My paw hit something metallic, and hollow, sending it clanking down the floor. I growled out of surprise and my ears went flat, and I felt myself tense at its sudden perceived loudness, filling my senses.

"SHIT!" I snapped.

Damn, maybe he just wanted to toy with me again...make me think of all sorts of lurid things until I could not take it anymore and I'd be just like a puppy in front of him...wanting for a juicy bone to gnaw on. I'd never put that beyond the dirty imagination of Brock Stahlman.

All that happened before he chuckled, roughly, and filled the room with himself, quite so simply.

"Yo, Griggs."

At least I didn't jump, but I did swirl around, and bare my teeth in a growl, turning towards the direction the voice was coming form. A corner, partially obscured by the jeep engine, now became the center of my attention, while the chuckle kept on coming from that same spot.

"Tenshoon, Griggs."

I snapped my ears down and snorted.

"What the hell, Brock?"

I heard a strange sloshing sound, followed by the telltale "ahh!" of someone exhaling after taking a sip from a carbonated drink...even more so certain after the same big Dobie burped. I snorted, but could still smell it, the sweet, sugary, spicy scent. Brock had been to the Coke machine before heading out.

The big, dangerous Dobie smacked his lips, still hidden in the darkness.

"I asked you, how are you, Griggs," his voice flowed deeply, tickling my spine and somewhere under my tail, too, feeling like an itch that you just had to scratch or...else.

He was being a mean bastard like always, though, and that told me not to just give it up so easily. He deserved that, anyway.

"Ain't your business," I folded my arms over my muscled chest and glared at him, the best I could in the very dim lighting.

"Hell it is," Brock replied. "I asked you how you were doing."

I wasn't about to start telling him that I as practically jizzing my pants even before I got a one feeling copped at the Dobie's beefy ass or his junk. I'd never live that down.

"Sure you'd like to know, ass breath," I growled.

Brock chuckled dirtily.

"Seriously, Griggs, you 12 or something?" the husky Dobie rumbled lazily from his corner.

I grunted.

"You're the one with a soda pop," I snorted.

Another swig.

Another huge belch when the bubbles escaped from the Dobie's stomach.

I frowned.

"You want some?" his voice was like gun oil.

It stained you.

"You wish," I rumbled.

He moved now, smoothly through the darkness, until he was close, so close that my furs began to bristle under their layer of musky sweat. His sugary breaths began to tickle my whiskers.

"You betcha."

Oh, shit.

He grabbed my muzzle as if it was a football or something and shoved his tongue into mine, with his thumb digging into the corner of my maw as he held me and made sure that there was no pulling back from this filthy, Coke-flavored kiss. His sloppy, slippery tongue slid over my own and marked me from within, as I tasted him. I growled and pushed my own tongue against the Dobie's flat, sloppy muscle.

My paws couldn't decide where to touch, with so much beefy muscle to choose from, they simply grabbed onto whatever came first, and that's how I ended groping Brock's ass and one thick, muscular, bulging arm. Brock didn't waste any much time before his own paw cupped my crotch and started to massage it with his rough, big padded fingers.

I barked out and began to hump against his paw, well beyond caring for the fact that he was so easily turning me into a soldier's bitch. I tasted him all over my muzzle and smelled him, thick, ripe and dirty, and sweaty, from all day of exercises and maybe skipping the shower, so that I would get the whole Brock Stahlman experience before the day was through.

"Hot shit, wuff," the Dobie grunted, huffing against my face while he stroked his huge paw up and down my groin, feeling me up. I kept ass-grabbing him as well as I could, even with the distraction of that paw-job that left my cock straining and my underwear stained with musky drips of cock juice.

"Fuck," I grunted and tried to bite on his ear.

Brock caught me first, his muzzle closing around my neck while the imposing male rumbled and squeezed on my windpipe with enough pressure to make me feel weak in the knees without actually cutting the flow of air or blood in my neck. I snarled and barked and flattened my ears, but that wouldn't do a thing to hide the real enjoyment in me from the rough treatment given to me by the Dobie who certainly knew what he wanted.

Fucking fantastic that I was the thing he wanted, his favorite toy.

He wasn't satisfied with just groping me for long, though, because soon his muzzle disappeared and his paws left my junk and instead found my belt. I snapped my muzzle at him and grunted roughly, only to receive a wet lick over my lips for that trouble, about the time my pants hit the floor around my ankles.

"Hot shit, Griggs."

His paws groped my bare ass now, squeezing on the double Dobie globes as much as he liked, and even slipping a finger into crack to run it through that sweaty crevice and make me whimper a little, between clenched teeth.

"Is that everything you gotta say Brock?" I moaned, his fingers now rolling around my heavy balls.

Brock's other paw pressed between my shoulder blades and he grunted.

"Well I do, Griggs...I do..." he leaned closer to my and I felt his teeth scare over my neck, as well as his paw, pressing again and coaxing a grunt out of me.

"Humhp?" I groaned like a bitch.

"Bend over," Brock's dangerous voice licked my ear.

Oh shit, I had my paws over the edge of the counter even before he had finished licking my neck after telling me to assume the ultimate male submission posture of head down, ass up, and this time, I was standing up with my nicely shaped ass pushing back like a pair of furry melons just waiting to be squashed by the hotly breathing, and judging by the metallic clinking, disrobing Dobie. My docked tail kept flicking eagerly, but never down so as to cover up my asshole. The familiar itch was there, making my overused muscles clench and clinch, as if thy were having a workout of their own, not unlike the ones I was subjected to every day as part of my rigorous physical training program to make me into a mean fucking grunt.

Wasn't that what Brock was trying to do as well, rubbing his goddamned dry, leathery paws over my pucker as if discovering it for the very first time. His arm went around my chest and I growled and...yeah, grunted, while he fingered me and played with me, all the while my own cock stood out and leaked over the workbench, with not a single paw to give me the relief of even a single stroke or a squeeze.

It was for him to decide now.

"Gonna fucking cornhole your fucking tight little doggie hole, Griggs," he groaned into my ear, breathing hot, sugary huffs into my flushed ear at the same time while his cock pressed against my ass, hot heavy and loaded.

"Shit...." he growled while his fingers dug into my crevice and rubbed firmly over my tailhole, trying to pry it open with a corkscrew-like motion that wasn't left unnoticed by me and my wagging tail. "You...."

His fingers disappeared after one particularly firm push, and returned soon after, now slick with saliva from Brock's muzzle, slickening up those fingers for an even deeper press into my rippling body. I bit my teeth and rolled my shoulders back, bracing my weight on my arms as I prepared for it.

I was panting with my tongue lolling out of my muzzle.

"You're..."...Brock humped me slowly, his cock leaving a hot mark over my hip while he dug into my flesh. "...tighter than a girl...shit...ain't natural that...fuck..."

I wasn't so sure whether it was natural to have a horny soldier's fingers in your ass in preparation to getting his even bigger and thicker and fleshier prod of a cock in there, but the slow fucking motion of those fingers poking inside me was making me pant and push my ass back to meet his confident, prying paw.

"Won't last long," his humping thrusts came heavy and slow, even as he still played with me, "don't mind though...this hot hole of yours is gonna make me cum so fast..."

If he'd just fucking grab my cock...

Brock pulled his spit-slick fingers from my ass and greeted my rear with a smack on the side he wasn't humping at, a moment before he moved to stand directly behind me. His hard dick slid over my furs before it nestled between my ass cheeks and pressed there hotly, making me breathe raggedly.

The Dobie slobbered on my neck as he began to thrust again, slickly humping my rear while he licked my skin and fur into a mess.

"Time to take it like a soldier, wuff...show me a good time..."

I whimpered when I felt his knot rub my taint.

"...oh yeah...big and mean but ain't match for me...you aint'..." he rumbled, telling me my place in simple, dirty, low-husked words.

"Fuck me," I didn't know what else to say by that point, or do, except keep my head hung low and my ass pushed up.

"You...betcha!"

The Dobie private used his paw to push his spit and pre-slickened cockhead against my tailhole before he grabbed onto my ass as much as he was holding onto my torso, and began to apply a great deal of pressure into my tenderized bud. I bit my lip and tried to stay still even when the feelings grew from intense to borderline painful, the way they always did when we were doing this business. I knew that all I could do was to stand still and just take it without complaining too much, for that would usually just spur Brock onto even dirtier talk and behavior, and eventually, harder fucking on my barely accustomed rear.

it felt like someone was trying to shove a broom handle in there, even now as he jammed his barely slickened inches into my back passage with determined grunts and snorts landing on my wet neck. My tail was on fire and my cock almost shriveled back into its sheath from the uncomfortable feelings that went on for as long as he was simply pushing, filling me up.

"So..fucking...hot..."

My cheeks felt hot too, when I felt his knot press against my tailhole.

I stood poised in the darkness, impaled on Brock's great cock for a few moments before we got to the part where it actually started to feel good for me too.

The breeding.

It still felt weird and hurt like a bitch at first, but soon we were ball-slapping and barking and Brock was holding down onto me while he pumped my ass. I was stretched out and raw and Brock was barely aware of what he was doing while he just kept on pushing in and out of my ass at a fast pace. Our bodies strained and excreted even more sweat and male musk, mixed with the scent of a rut. There weren't any bitch smells there either, just hot, manly, rich musk that covered every inch of me, in and out, while Brock banged me bent over the dirty workbench.

My poor swollen cock swung in front of me along the rhythm of the fuck, smacking against my belly at one time, or over the workbench during the others. I guess I was lucky that I wasn't getting any splinters, especially considering that the whole workbench kept lurching back and forth while I held onto it for my dear life and stood braced and brazened and ready for action. Brock was giving me the full service, too, running hot and heavy into this close combat exercise that involved doing some deep ass-dicking that left both of us breathless and snorting. He even forgot to call me wuff, or speak other lewd things into my ear, which he was keen to simply nibble while breeding my ass at a full pace.

I knew both from past experience and the dark, hot snorts over my neck that it couldn't last for much longer. The knot attached to his fat dick was already making its way into me, or at least trying, to ramming against my spread out pucker with every thrust he made into me. I knew it was gonna hurt like a bee sting for a while, before it'd dull out and likely cause me to blow my wad via some mechanism I could not explain, but what I knew that there was some sort of a connection between my ass and my dick, however weird or fucked up that sounded like. I did know that my own cock pulsed and leaked heavily without being touched at all.

"Ahhh shit..Griggs...fuck...fuck...man...fuck..."

Brock was being his own sophisticated self while his paws grabbed onto my hips and began to pull me back to smack firmly against his sweaty lap.

"AAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

I barked out, and his paw slipped up to close my muzzle, to keep back the howl of agony that came from being spread so wide so quickly, and that singular burst of pain that was followed by another blinding feeling, of that burst of a series of lightning behind my eyes. Heat exploded from my spread tail until it reached my belly and then jumped into my heavy, dangling balls and forced them to squeeze out a hefty load that began to spray all over the work bench in some heavy ropes of thick doggie spunk. It left me barely aware of the fact that he was still fucking me, thrusting as much as he could with our bodies locked together, and with barely enough room left for him to work with.

"FFfFFFFF..."

Brock's voice was muffled by having his lips press against my shoulder, soon followed by his teeth, and his growl, and then, the hot, searing splash of cum that filled my sore ass with strong pulses of the sticky stuff flowing deeply into my guts with every little jazzrabbit thrust coming from the Dobie's hot, jumping cock. He seeded me, he bit me, marked me and took me, and I stood there and let him, and took it like a man, like a fucking mean grunt who was not pushed around...except when it came to Brock Stahlman, his shit-eating grin and his rough grip on me.

Figured that before we went back he'd test out just how stretched out I was by shoving that Coke bottle up my ass, as far as it could go, and fuck, did it go, lubricated by his own slippery cum filling up my rump and coating my inner walls with a thick, sticky layer.

Brock couldn't stop laughing when he claimed that my ass almost swallowed the bottle. That's when I pushed and it all came out, bottle and spunk, clattering onto the floor.

That fucking laughter.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHH

Then he smacked my ass and told me that I was a good wuff.

"Good wuff."

Then he thrust his thumb into my asshole and kissed me goodnight.

Figures.

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Hehhey!

Hope you liked this little romp. It was fun to write, for sure!

Don't forget to leave a comment, they really are the best measure of the quality of my work. Each and every one of them will be specially appreciated.

Thank you for reading,

cheerio!